us, and every time he calls or does something, we drop what we're doing and jump.'
'Maybe that's what he wants.'
'We need to find out what he's doing.'
'It's a waste of time.'
'We don't have much of a choice, Tim. Malcolm Fletcher is here, and he knows something. He's not going away.'
'Let's talk about your surveillance,' Bryson said.
44
'If Fletcher calls you at home or at the lab, we can trace his location in about forty-five seconds,' Bryson said. 'The moment your phone rings, the trace starts. Let it ring three times before you pick up.'
'What about my cell phone?' Darby asked.
'That's where it gets dicey. Cell signals bounce through towers.' Bryson reached into his pant pocket. 'It could take anywhere from one to three minutes to pinpoint his location. If he calls you on your cell, the key is to keep him talking as long as possible. Once we get a lock on his signal, we can trace it even if he hangs up, as long as he keeps his phone turned on. I also want you to carry this.'
Pinched between his fingers was a small rectangular piece of black plastic, thin, with a grey button in the centre. The device reminded Darby of the medical alert units some elderly people carried in case they fell and couldn't get up.
'This is what we call a panic button,' Bryson said. 'If something happens, if you believe you're in danger, you press the button – you have to do it hard enough to break the seal. Once that happens, we come running. There's also a GPS transmitter in there, so we'll know where you are at any given time. You're to carry this with you, even when you go to bed.'
'Do you think Fletcher's going to attack me in my sleep?'
'I don't think you should take any chances. During the day, keep the device tucked inside your pant pocket. What time are you leaving work?'
'I don't know.'
'Let me know when you do. We need to install privacy devices on your phones. If you get a private call and don't want us listening in, you press the button on the privacy device and the trace stops, nobody hears a thing. When you're ready to leave, call and I'll meet you at your place.
'One other thing,' Bryson said. 'When you leave work, don't look around the streets to see if you can spot surveillance. If Fletcher is watching, he may suspect something and run. Keep up your normal routine and act natural. Do you have a boyfriend?'
'No.'
'Someone you're seeing?'
'I hope you're not asking to fix me up on a blind date.'
'I'm asking because I was hoping someone was staying with you.'
'Coop is.'
Something flickered across his eyes. Was it disappointment?
'He's not my boyfriend, just a very close friend,' Darby said. 'He's very protective.'
'The surveillance team will be watching you when you leave work today, when you leave your condo – eyes will be on you at all times. Again, just act natural. Try to relax. If there's a problem, we'll call and give you instructions.'
Bryson handed her his business card. 'My home phone number is on the back. Programme it into your cell phone. If you need anything, give me a call.'
'What's Hannah's address?'
'She never made it home, never got on the bus.'
'I want to look through her things.'
Bryson wrote the address down on a sheet of paper, tore it off and handed it to her. 'I'm going to head downtown and help Watts.'
'I'll call you if I find anything at Hannah's place,' Darby said. 'After that, I need to collect makeup samples.'
She told him about the makeup stain on Chen's sweatshirt.
'Sounds pretty thin,' Bryson said.
'It's the only evidence we have to work with at the moment.'
'Before you go, I have a present for you.'
He opened his desk drawer and handed her a small box. Inside was a tactical light for her handgun.
Darby smiled. 'You certainly know the way to a woman's heart.'
45
On her way back to her office, Darby called Coop and gave him a quick rundown of her meeting with Tim Bryson.
Coop was already driving back into town with the fingerprints he'd collected from Tina Sanders' mailbox. He agreed to meet her at Hannah Givens' home in Brighton.
The events of the day crowded her thoughts. Darby wanted to hit the gym. A run on the treadmill would sweep her head clean but there wasn't any time. She put on her coat, grabbed her forensics kit and headed out. Walking outside in the dark, frigid air, she wondered where the surveillance was. She also wondered if Malcolm Fletcher was watching.
Safe behind the wheel of her Mustang, her thoughts turned to the Virgin Mary statues. In her mind's eye she saw the Blessed Mother's sorrowful expression, arms held wide open, ready to embrace. The face vanished, replaced by Fletcher's strange black eyes. Darby thought she heard him laughing.
She didn't want to think about the former profiler. She focused her thoughts on the man who shot Hale and Chen. That man had placed a statue of the Virgin Mary in their pockets. He'd sewed them shut and tied the end off with a knot so the statues would stay with them. He'd placed a sign of the cross on Chen's forehead and dumped her body into Boston Harbor. Why? What was the significance of the statue and why was it so important that it stay with the two women after they were dead?
You cared for them, I know you did. Why did you keep them alive for so long only to turn around and kill them?
Darby wondered if the killer was possibly schizophrenic. Most schizophrenia was based on a specific delusion – UFOs, secret government organizations implanting microchips in people's brains to eavesdrop on their thoughts. A lot of schizophrenics believed God, Jesus or the devil spoke directly to them.
With Hale and Chen, there seemed to be an organizational element at work in the way both women were killed and dumped in water. And then there was the length of time between the abductions. Emma Hale had been held somewhere for roughly six months – half a year, Jesus – her body discovered in early November. Chen's body was found two days ago. It was February. Her stay had lasted only a couple of months.
As a general rule, schizophrenics weren't organized offenders. They were impulsive killers. The crime scenes were sloppy. With Hale and Chen, there was no crime scene.
Emma Hale, the first victim, had left a party at her friend's Back Bay apartment. It wasn't a long walk home but it had been snowing, so Emma had called a cab. She grabbed her coat and went outside to smoke. Twenty minutes later, the cab pulled up to the apartment building but Emma Hale wasn't there.
Judith Chen had studied late into the evening. She left the library and somewhere on her way home had disappeared.
Both women had not made it home. Had they been abducted by force? If a strange man had tried to grab Hale
