"Do you know how to get to Pine Street?"

"Yes."

"Follow that all the way to the intersection at Mall Road and keep on going about a hundred feet past the intersection. Their driveway is on the right across from the optometrist's office. There's a sign as you drive in, it will have the number on it. Look for Doris Boardman."

"Okay. Doris Boardman."

"I'm sorry, Jake, but I have to go. G.o.d, I hope you catch her."

"Wait. If I don't catch her, how do I get into the clinic?"

"You can't. They have bullet proof gla.s.s and reenforced metal doors. If you don't catch her, it's over."

Jake gripped the steering wheel and let his frustration channel into it. "Can I call them? Will they let me in if I explain the situation?"

"I don't think they will. You know, patient confidentiality... They can't even tell you if she's in there."

"You're kidding me!" He raced through a yellow light. "Then I'll just have to catch her."

"Wait a second! There is something you can do." Her voice lowered. "But you have to promise you won't tell anyone I told you this."

"I promise, Holly."

"I mean bring it to your grave."

"Holly. You know me. I won't tell anyone."

"There is an office on the side of the building." She spoke low. "It has a large window. You can't immediately see it because it's on the side of the complex facing the forest. Follow the mulch down the side of the building to just past halfway. Inside, you'll see an L shaped chestnut desk. The window is unlocked."

"Got it."

"And if you find anything buried in the dirt outside the window..."

"What?"

"Never mind, forget I said anything."

"O-kay..." Jake looked in his rear-view mirror. "No! No! You've got to be kidding me!"

"What? What is it?"

He clenched his jaw. "I'm being pulled over."

Chapter 44.

Holly sat across from Agent Perez at the kitchen table. He was an intimidating hulk of a man, six feet tall and mostly muscle-except for his gut-with a face that looked like the sheer side of a mountain. But when he spoke, his deep raspy voice had a calming effect on her. "We're on your side, Holly. If the perpetrator is communicating with you, we can help, but you gotta let us in."

Did she dare let them in? She believed he wanted to help, but he was just like the rest. His hands were bound in red tape, his every course of action guided by some rule or regulation. She couldn't afford to be betrayed by a force beyond his control. "I've already told you, I acted on my own."

"You found blocks in your son's room and decided to call the news instead of the authorities who are working to rescue your child?"

His reasoning shut her down.

"I know you're scared Holly, but this doesn't have to go down this way. You don't have to play his game."

"I told..."

He slammed the table with his hand.

She flinched.

"You told us lies, and lies won't save your son!"

Dan spoke up from the corner of the kitchen. "Hey, ease up, man."

Perez turned on him. "If you interrupt again, I'll have you removed from the premises."

Dan started pacing like a wild horse.

"There's something you're not telling us, Holly, and we're going to find out what it is."

Her neck tightened. "You're wasting your time grilling me when you should be searching that bridge."

"We have a unit dispatched." He studied her a moment. "What I can't figure out is, why aren't you upset?"

"About what?"

"Something big is going to happen at 2:00 on the overpa.s.s? Have you even thought about this? Your son has been taken by a known killer, Holly. Have you thought about what this might mean?"

He was right. Why wasn't she upset? In Perez' mind, the killer had left the location of her son's dead body, and she wasn't upset. She wasn't acting like a worried mother, she was acting like an accomplice. He had every reason to think she had been contacted by the killer-and she had no way to convince him otherwise.

"I don't know what it means."

His eyes disengaged. "You know what it means. You're not that naive."

"If you're implying that my son is dead, you don't know that."

"That's how this guy operates. He takes a child. He kills the child. Then he leaves his calling card."

His words had a ring of truth to them, and a part of her was able to respond with the correct emotion. There was a very real possibility that the killer was merely toying with her. Her son could be dead on the overpa.s.s, the promise of letting him live could be a lie.

Tears filled her eyes. "My son is alive. He has to be. As soon as I stop believing that, I have nothing."

His eyes narrowed. "Why are you protecting this guy?"

She turned her head from his judgmental stare.

Agent Perez creaked in his chair and leaned forward. "He told you your son would live, didn't he?"

She willed herself to not respond to the jolt of shock. He was right. It was obvious. There was no other reason for her to deny the meaning of the blocks. There was no other reason for her to call news agencies and have them circle around her dead son like buzzards.

"What is he planning, Holly?"

She looked through the sweaty curls hanging like vines across her face.

"Take me to the bridge and I'll show you."

Chapter 45.

Angela Grant pulled her gun from its socket. She could smell the cologne of the agent in front of her and hear the footsteps of the agents behind her crunching leaves under foot as they moved into a line. The water on Phillips Lake was still and barren of boating activity. It would have been a nice day to go for a swim or go fishing in the cool breeze and warm sunshine-with the piney mountain and blue sky painted in the distance.

Instead she was heading into the den of a cornered animal. The earbud in her left ear buzzed.

"Alpha Team in position."

"Copy. Bravo Team has eyes."

"Charlie in position."

"Go, go, go!"

She placed a hand on the kevlar vest of the agent in front of her, and the line began to move. There was a pop, and the front door splinted, leaving a hole where the handle had been. The first three agents disappeared inside.

The earbud said, "Rear and kitchen clear."

She followed her ch.o.r.eographed path through the living room to the left of the bas.e.m.e.nt door. "Living room clear."

The bas.e.m.e.nt door was locked. An agent slapped a charge on it. "Bas.e.m.e.nt door has the charge."

She and the other six agents moved back. There was a flash and a bang. The agents pushed down into the bas.e.m.e.nt.

The earbud went crazy. "We have contact! We have contact!"

She heard shouting as she descended the steep stairs.

"Get down! Hands where we can see them! Down! Down on the floor!"

The bas.e.m.e.nt was filled with shelves of food, a cot in the corner, a table, and a television next to it. In the center of the room, a thin man in jeans and dress shirt lay on the floor with a shotgun next to him. Agents were working to handcuff him and read him his rights.

Angela said, "Bas.e.m.e.nt secure. Suspect is in custody."

"This is Bravo, perimeter is secure. There is no activity."

"This is Charlie. Attic is secure."

She pulled the earbud out of her ear, coiled the cord, and shoved it in her pocket. The middle-aged man with neatly trimmed beard and mustache was lifted and put into an old rusted kitchen chair.

Angela c.o.c.ked her head. "Dr. Carter?"

He looked up with fierce eyes.

"You're a hard man to reach. Are you on vacation?" She kept her tone light and indifferent.

His eyes brushed the floor and probed the dark corners of the room.

"Do you care to tell us why you are hiding in the bas.e.m.e.nt of your sister's camp?"

"I'm not hiding," he said.

She surveyed the room. "It looks like you planned on staying here a while." She indicated the evidence. "Shelves of food, cot, television. Does your sister know?"

His chest heaved up and he blew a breath through his nose.

"We have evidence connecting you to the murder of four children..."

Shock flashed across his face. "What?! What evidence?!"

"We found hair samples in your file drawer at work. That and photographic evidence showing you at two of the four crime scenes, gives us enough to put you away for a very long time."

Sudden rapid-eye-movement, just as Angela expected. This was not the behavior of a serial killer. Carter was processing what he had just learned, searching for a way out of the trap that had been set for him.

"You're not the killer, are you?" she said, watching for the appropriate response. At first there was surprise. Then a hint of relief, followed by introspection. What was he thinking about? Had he been coerced? Threatened?

"Did the killer threaten you or your family?"

His eyes darted up and locked onto hers. He looked scared.

"Okay. I get it. You're worried about your family. You don't want to tell me anything because you're afraid of what the killer will do to them."

"I didn't say..." He looked around at all the agents in the room, and shut down.

She looked at Agent Blake from the SBI standing beside her. "Clear the room."

He turned his back to Carter. "You know we can't leave you alone with the suspect."

"I'm aware of the policy," she snapped. "Leave a man at the bottom of the stairs to observe, but otherwise, clear the room."