devices. Judging by what I saw at the house, I doubt these devices are that sophisticated. They may even be homemade.'
'Funny you should mention the feds. I got a message this morning from the Boston office. The site profiler here in town wants to talk to me.'
'What did he want?'
'I haven't talked with him yet.'
'I think our guy took Carol out of the house and put her in the back of a van – only when he opened the doors, he found that Jane Doe wasn't there. He searched for her, couldn't find her, and at some point decided he had to leave. But before he did, he went back inside and planted the bugs in strategic locations so he could listen to us as we moved through the rooms. I think it's safe to say he was listening to us last night. How many people do you have guarding Jane Doe's room?'
'At the moment, just one.'
'Increase it. And make sure they check the ID of every person who comes inside the ICU.'
'I'm already doing that. The press found out she's at Mass General. They did a live news feed outside the hospital. It was all over the news.'
'And Jane Doe?'
'As of nine this morning, she was still sedated.'
'I think it would be a good idea if you have someone put together a list of names of every volunteer helping search for Carol Cranmore. Check licenses, too, see if you have anyone from out of town. Any luck locating Terry Mastrangelo's family?'
'We're working on it.' Banville returned the coffee cup to its saucer. 'About these devices you found,' he said. 'Do you have any idea about the kind of monitoring equipment our guy would be using?'
'Depending on the bug's frequency strength, it could be something as simple as an FM receiver. I've heard of receivers disguised as a Walkman, but again, the range would be rather short. If he was using something like that, he'd have to be close to the house. To listen from a longer range, you'd need more sophisticated equipment – bulky stuff that's not so easy to conceal.'
'So right now our guy could be sitting in his van parked somewhere near the Cranmore house.'
'Please don't tell me you're thinking of having patrol cars do a sweep of the area,' Darby said. If Carol's abductor spotted patrolmen stopping people in their cars, he wouldn't hesitate to leave the area. He might even panic and kill Carol.
'It's tempting, sure, but it's too risky,' Banville said. 'No, what I was thinking was how we could use this to our advantage.'
'You set up a trap.'
'You sound like you've already got something in mind.'
'First, we need to figure out the frequency range of the listening devices. Then we set up roadblocks – we lock down every possible way he can escape. You put me in one of the rooms with Coop, and as we're talking about made-up evidence, you track down the frequency.'
'That's not a bad plan. Tracking down the frequency, though, we're not set up for that.'
'The feds are. They come in, they'll find out what frequency those devices are transmitting on, and they can narrow it down. We need to move on this soon. I'm pretty sure those listening devices operate on batteries. We might have a day or two before they die.'
Banville stared out the window, at the people heading into the diner. She couldn't read anything in his face. Every emotion, from surprise to sadness, was carefully sealed behind the same blank mask he always wore.
'This morning a reporter from the Herald cornered me and asked if I'd like to comment on the connection between Carol Cranmore and a missing woman by the name of Terry Mastrangelo.'
'Jesus Christ.'
'Tell me about it. So now, in addition to everything else, I've got to deal with a leak.' He was looking at her now. 'Who else knows about Mastrangelo?'
'Everyone at the lab,' Darby said. 'What about you?'
'I've tried to keep that information locked down to a few key people. The problem is, in a missing person investigation, especially one of this size, it creates a real competitive environment. Reporters want to be the first to get the inside scoop, and they're willing to pay for it. You'd be surprised at the kind of money they offer.'
'Someone approached you?'
'Not me. They know better. But there are plenty of guys in the department who need extra cash for child support payments or maybe they got their eyes on a new set of wheels. Who else at the lab knows about the bugs?'
'At the moment, just me and Coop.'
'Keep it that way.'
'My boss wants me to update him,' Darby said. 'You're putting me in an awkward position.'
'As far as he's concerned, I was the one who found the listening devices. You don't know anything about it.'
'What about using the reporter? Have him plant a story about how the crime lab is planning on going through the house, say, tomorrow night because we're looking for certain key evidence. That way we can guarantee he'll be listening.'
'I was thinking the same thing. Let me make some calls, and I'll get back to you. You want a ride back to the house?'
'I'm going to grab some coffee and then I'll walk back. The fresh air helps me think.'
Darby's phone rang as she was standing in line. It was Leland.
'AFIS came back with a hit on Jane Doe's prints at one a.m. this morning. Her name is Rachel Swanson, from Durham, New Hampshire. She was twenty-three when she disappeared.'
'How long has she been missing?'
'Almost five years. I don't have the details yet, just some preliminary stuff. Any luck at the house?'
'I struck out.' Darby didn't like lying to Leland, but this was Banville's investigation, and he had decided how he wanted to play it out.
'I found Neil Joseph in the squad room and asked him to pull up the case file, see what's listed on NCIC,' Leland said. 'I've already talked with someone at the state lab in New Hampshire. They're going to fax over what they have for evidence.'
'I'm on my way.'
Chapter 28
By noon, Darby had learned most of the facts on Rachel Swanson's disappearance.
In the early morning hours of New Year's Day, 2001, twenty-three-year-old Rachel Swanson said good-bye to her close friends in Nashua, New Hampshire, and made the hour's drive back to the Durham, to the house she had recently moved into with her boyfriend, Chad Bernstein, who had skipped the party because he was ill. Lisa Dingle, a neighbor returning home from her own New Year's Eve celebration, saw Rachel's Honda Accord pull into the driveway sometime around two a.m. Rachel waved to her neighbor and entered through the side door of her house.
An hour later, Dingle, an insomniac, was still up reading in bed when she heard a car start. She glanced up from her book and saw Chad Bernstein's black BMW backing out of the driveway.
Five days later, when Lisa Dingle learned that both Bernstein and his girlfriend were missing, she called the police.
Police focused their attention on Bernstein. The thirty-six-year-old software engineer had been previously married, and the ex-wife was all too willing to tell police the stories about her former husband's physical abuse. She knew her ex was capable of hurting a woman, and the police knew it, too. The former wife had called 911 three times. During their last argument, Chad had pulled a knife and threatened to kill her.
Bernstein traveled extensively around the country for business. Three times a year he visited his office's
