Her fingers found the brackets and screws pinning the cot's legs to the floor. The cot was bolted to the floor.
Carol spent the next half hour struggling to break off a piece of metal tubing. No luck.
Her heart was pumping hard from the exertion and brought on new waves of fear, making her skin tingle. She pushed her fear aside. She had to keep her mind clear. She had to think. Okay, what else is in here?
Carol mentally pictured the room: shower, sink, toilet and cot. What she needed was something sharp, something she could use to stab him -
The toilet. She had helped one of her mother's boyfriends change some plastic thing inside the toilet tank, and she recalled the things inside there – the handle and the lever. They were both made of metal. Attached to the handle was a long piece of metal with a pointed end. She could use it to puncture skin. She could stab him with it, but it wouldn't do any serious damage.
She could use it on his eyes. Let him try to find her without his eyesight.
Carol navigated her way to the corner. Her shin bumped up against the edge of the toilet. She reached down and felt the toilet seat. She moved her fingers toward the tank. There was no toilet tank, just cold metal pipes dripping with moisture.
Panic set in. The voice inside her head, the one that sounded a lot like her mother's voice, urged her to push these thoughts aside, to calm down and think.
Carol didn't want to think. She stumbled through the dark until she found the steel door.
'Tony, can you hear me?' She banged her fists against the door. 'Tony! Where are you? ANSWER ME.'
A piercing sound, like the ringing of a school bell, made her jump.
The door was opening, clank-clank-clank.
Carol ran back to the cot and scrambled underneath it, grabbing the blanket and twisting it into a rope, hoping she could use it to defend herself if he came at her with something sharp.
The man with the mask didn't come inside.
Carol stared into the hallway of dim light. Lying on the floor, about ten or so feet away from her cell door, was a bottle of water and a sandwich wrapped in plastic.
Was he hiding around the corner?
Carol didn't see a shadow on the floor. Maybe he was standing far away from the door, waiting for her to come out. Was he waiting for her to come out there and grab the food? If she stepped out there, would the man with the mask attack her?
'Hello?'
Not Tony's voice – this was a woman's voice, faint but clear.
'Can anyone hear me?' the woman asked.
'I can hear you,' Carol said. She wiped the tears from her eyes and watched the door, listening, getting ready to fight. 'My name is Carol. Carol Cranmore. Where are you? Who are you?'
'My name is Marci Wade. I'm standing inside my room.'
'Don't come out here,' another woman yelled.
How many people were down here with her?
The ringing alarm sounded again. Her door was closing.
And then the screaming started.
Chapter 39
Darby's morning started at the Belham police station. It was six a.m. She stood with Coop in the back of the crowded conference room. Copies of today's Herald were visible everywhere she looked.
Carol Cranmore was the lead story: 'Where Is She? Police on the Trail of a Possible Crazed Killer.'
Darby had already read the article. There wasn't much meat in it, just speculation wedged in between lots of pictures. A photographer had captured a picture of Dianne Cranmore collapsed on the bottom of her porch stairs, hands in her hair as she wailed.
The last paragraph contained the bait:
A source close to the investigation revealed that police have discovered a key piece of evidence that could potentially break the case wide open. Crime scene technicians, assisted by federal lab consultants and Special Agent Evan Manning, from the FBI's Investigative Support Unit, will be going through the house today.
Now all Traveler had to do was to show up.
Banville took the podium. His hangdog face looked especially tired. Behind him, mounted on the wall, was a blown-up map of the streets surrounding Carol's house. Every possible escape route was marked offwith red pushpins.
After the noise died down, he started to speak.
'FBI technicians on loan from the Boston office entered the Cranmore house last night and determined that the listening devices are active and transmitting on the same frequency. They're remote-operated, meaning they can be turned on and off in order to save battery power. The maximum range these devices can transmit is roughly a half-mile radius. At the moment, these devices are off.
'We'll have officers stationed in unmarked cars at key points within a half-mile radius of the house. Other detectives and patrolmen, pretending to be volunteers, will be covering the area with leaflets containing Carol Cranmore's picture and taking down license plate numbers.
'We can't assume he's sitting inside the back of a van,' Banville said. 'He's not using sophisticated surveillance equipment. It could easily be stored underneath a car seat. I was told that the receiver could be a device disguised in something as simple as a radio Walkman. It's even possible he can plug this device into his car stereo system and listen over the speakers. We all need to be on the lookout for a white male wearing headphones or sitting alone inside a car. If you see someone, call it in – and remember to use the frequency I've given you. Stay off your cell phones.
'We'll have three delivery trucks roaming the area. In each, FBI technicians will be monitoring the bug's signal once they turn on. Let them track it down. When they lock on to the signal, they'll call SWAT into action. Under no circumstances are you to approach the suspect alone. SWAT will take him down. Special Agent Manning, is there anything you'd like to add?'
Evan, standing in the far corner of the room, stared at the tops of his shoes for a moment before addressing the crowd.
'I know there's been some bad blood between police agencies and the Boston office. As far as I'm concerned, this is Detective Banville's investigation. We were asked to assist, and that's what we're here to do. We're all after the same goal – to find Carol Cranmore and bring her home. I don't care who gets credit for it.
'That being said, I can't stress enough how important it is for each of you to approach this cautiously. If you see someone or something suspicious, call it in immediately. We only have one shot at this, and we can't afford to spook him. Always assume he's watching, because he is.'
Solemn nods and blank stares around the room.
Banville spent the next half hour explaining how the streets and roads would be blocked off. If Traveler was listening somewhere in that half-mile radius, there would be no way he could escape.
The meeting broke up. People got out of their seats.
Evan inched his way through the crowd to the back of the room.
'This could be a long waiting game,' he told Darby and Coop. 'Why don't you two head back to the lab, see if there's anything you can find about the tan fiber. I'll call you the second I find out something.'
'Our boss wants us here,' Coop said.
'There's no guarantee he'll be listening this morning,' Evan said. 'It could be sometime this afternoon. You'd be better off using your time at the lab.'
'A case like this creates a lot of confusion – a lot of people are going to go straight for the collar, everyone wants to be a hero,' Darby said. 'If you find him, you're going to need people to secure the crime scene. We're going to need all the evidence we can get to nail him to the wall.'
Evan nodded. 'Let's keep our fingers crossed and hope he takes the bait.'
