“Exactly. We suspected the Chessmaster was someone on the inside with a working knowledge of police procedure. Mike fits Emilia’s profile. Smart, college educated, etc. My guess is Mike developed the plan and Tom assisted him.”
“Mike convinced Tom to kidnap Savannah, wearing a disguise.” Weston could see the images of the attack against Avery’s sister play out in his mind. “Tom drives to the university and switches Savannah from his SUV to the white van. Then he acts as a lookout for Mike in the theater building.”
“Sounds right. It explains how the killer was able to move so fast.”
Weston’s hand tightened on the phone. “It also explains why Avery had time to pull Rachel out of the pool. Killing Tom delayed Mike.”
“We’ve got roadblocks set up on the freeway and around town. We’re stopping every white delivery van.”
Too late. Mike had everything he needed. “We should check every unoccupied house on Tom’s mail route. If Mike is the Chessmaster, he needs a place to…”
Kill. The word wouldn’t move past his throat.
“I’m already on it,” Grady said.
Weston stared out the window. A couple was making their way across the parking lot. Partners. He mulled it over, but something didn’t quite fit. “Can we link Mike and Tom together? Other than the fingerprint in Tom’s car and the arrest from twenty years ago?”
“Not yet, but Luke used the print to get a search warrant for Mike’s house. He’s headed there now. I’m sending a photo array to your phone. Show it to Rachel. Hopefully, she can identify Mike as her attacker.”
A doctor called out Weston’s name. He said a quick goodbye to Grady as he crossed the waiting room. “That’s me.”
“It’s my understanding you wanted to speak to Mrs. Long. Please come with me.”
The man turned on his heel. Weston hurried to catch up to the doctor’s long strides. “How is she?”
“Hard to say. Medically, she’s stable.” He paused outside an exam room. “Mrs. Long awoke and was initially responsive but then suffered a panic attack. She struck one of the nurses and was screaming and crying uncontrollably. We had to sedate her.”
“Any idea what triggered the panic attack?”
The doctor shrugged. “She’s been through a serious trauma. Sometimes the effects can be delayed.”
Weston nodded and stepped inside the room. Rachel’s petite form was barely a lump on the bed. Her dark hair was spread across the pillow. Various tubes drifted out from under the blankets and a heart monitor beat in a steady rhythm.
“Mrs. Long, my name is Texas Ranger Weston Donovan. There are some questions I need to ask you.”
The woman didn’t move. He went around the bed and stood directly in front of her. Rachel’s eyes were glassy. Weston bit back his frustration and kept his tone calm but authoritative.
“Ma’am, I’m sorry, but it’s very important. The man who hurt you has kidnapped two other women.” Weston took a risk and stepped closer to the bed. He didn’t want to crowd Rachel, but he needed her to understand the urgency of the situation. “One of them is your friend, Savannah Madison. The other is Chief of Harrison University Police Avery Madison. Avery pulled you out of the pool tonight. She saved your life.”
Rachel’s eyes flickered down and then settled on him. Progress. He would take it. “Where were you being held?”
No response.
“Was it a house?”
Nothing. Rachel lifted her hand and grabbed his. She squeezed, her nails digging into his skin. Desperation oozed out of her. Rachel wanted to tell him something, Weston could sense that much. But fear, or perhaps the medication they’d given her, was making communication difficult.
“Let’s try this,” Weston said softly. “Squeeze my hand once for yes and twice for no. Can you do that?”
One squeeze. His heart leaped, but Weston kept his expression and tone soothing. “That’s good, Rachel. That’s very good. Were you held in a house?”
One squeeze.
“Was it in a neighborhood?”
Nothing. Maybe she didn’t know.
“Can you identify the man who attacked you?”
One squeeze.
Weston pulled out his phone. He brought up the photo array Grady had sent him and showed it to Rachel. Mike was in the center, number three. Weston slipped his hand back into hers. “Is the man who attacked you in one of these pictures?”
Her gaze flickered to the phone and her forehead creased. Two squeezes. Weston froze. “Are you sure?”
Two squeezes, this time more forcefully. He stared at her. “Can you tell me your attacker’s name?”
The door to the room swung open and a nurse entered. She stopped short. “Oh, I’m sorry to interrupt. I need to take vitals.” She moved closer to the bed. “How are you, Mrs. Long? Feeling better?”
Rachel didn’t answer. Weston frowned. “The doctor mentioned Rachel had a panic attack earlier.”
“Yes, sir.” The nurse wrapped a cuff around Rachel’s arm. “A patient in the emergency room started watching the news on their phone. Mrs. Long overheard and she became very upset.”
Weston glanced at Rachel again. Her dark eyes were focused on him, fear lurking in their depths. Then they flickered to the television and her hand trembled in his. Could she have seen a news story about her own disappearance? Or was it more than that?
The nurse finished her exam, and the door clicked closed behind her.
Weston took a deep breath. He didn’t want to scare the young woman. She’d been traumatized enough, but he needed her help. Lives depended on it. “Was your attacker on television, Rachel?”
One squeeze.
He picked up the remote. “May I turn on the news so we can watch it together?”
She didn’t move, then a squeeze. Lighter than all the others. Weston let out the breath he was holding. “Thank you, Rachel. Whoever he is, I promise you, he cannot hurt you ever again. I’ll make sure of it.”
He clicked on the television. Breaking news was playing about the fire alarm at the university. The newscaster filled in the details. No response from Rachel.
The story changed to the missing women and the murders. The newscaster droned on. “Our correspondent, Greg Kilbourne, completed
