“Okay. Call me when they are and let me know what you find. We’ll be there inside of fifteen minutes.”
Dwight reached for Nick’s shoulder to get his attention and then nodded to Kate. “What happened?”
With both of them staring at her, Kate swallowed hard before she could speak. “Captain said the signal died.”
“As in no longer moving or gone?” Nick asked.
“Gone. Like the phone’s been shut off or destroyed.”
“Damn it. Are they close?”
“A few minutes away.”
“If that woman’s dead, I swear to God I’ll fucking kill Stroud myself.” Nick balled his hands into tight fists. “I’ll fucking kill him.”
TWENTY-ONE
T
he chopper began
to descend toward the site below where Baltimore police surrounded the area and an ambulance waited.
“Looks like we’re the last to the party.” Dwight unbuckled his seat belt and prepared to exit while the helicopter was just touching ground. “I hope to hell they found her alive.”
The pilot cut the engine and the team exited, keeping their heads low as the blades slowed overhead.
Nick peered over his shoulder and waved to them “Over here.” He returned to full height when he cleared the chopper and jogged toward the back of the ambulance, whose doors were open. “Where is she?”
An EMT stood just outside the doors and noted the FBI letters on Nick’s vest. “Inside. She’s hurt, but she’ll be okay.”
“She’s alive.” He turned back to Dwight and Kate. “She’s still alive.” Nick raised the corners of his mouth in what appeared to be a moment of relief.
“Where’s the captain?” Kate asked the man who offered the welcomed news.
“Over there, by the trees.” He pointed in the direction of the wooded area.
Kate made her way toward him, leaving Nick and Dwight to get the rundown on Mrs. Rice’s condition. “Captain McKinnon, what happened?”
McKinnon stood next to one of his officers and turned his attention to Kate. “Agent Reid? Looks like Mrs. Rice is a very lucky woman. She’s conscious and was able to tell us what went down. Stroud took a swing at her with the end of his gun and knocked her out cold—long enough for him to take off in her car, after he smashed her cell phone. We’ve got all units out looking for her car. I’ve got all my men searching the area.”
“How long was she unconscious? How much ahead of us is he?”
“We arrived on scene when she’d already regained consciousness. She was sitting on the bench and was still pretty out of it. A dog-walker spotted her and asked if she was okay. She figures she was out for at least ten minutes, maybe fifteen.”
“Long enough for him to clear out.”
“I’m afraid so. And my guess is, he probably dumped the car and is either on foot or looking at public transportation.”
“You think he’d risk showing his face?”
“It’s getting late and the later it is, the less busy the buses and trains will be. Commuters are already home by now and so, unless he’s recognized while buying the ticket, he would stand a fairly good chance of getting out that way.”
Kate eyed the area, pondering their options. They were so close to him now and to let him slip again would most certainly mean putting the boy at risk; the one they still had yet to identify. But he wouldn’t dare cross back over the border into Virginia.
Her expression revealed instant recognition. “Oh my God. We’ve been looking in the wrong place. Stroud wanted to come here all along. The boy must live here.”
“What’s that?” The captain’s attention had been diverted.
“Nothing, sorry, but would you mind meeting with my team for a moment?” Kate started to walk back toward Nick and Dwight.
“Not at all.”
They approached the two agents.
“How is she?” Kate asked.
“She’ll be fine. They’re going to take her to the hospital now. The husband’s been made aware.”
“We’ve been looking in the wrong place for that boy,” Kate started. “Vasquez has been searching the databases, reaching out to the schools, checking for a passport or other forms of ID, looking for a match to the boy, but we were wrong. Stroud wanted to come here; he just needed safe transport.” She studied her colleagues, who seemed to grasp her concept. “That’s why we haven’t been able to find him. He doesn’t live in Virginia; he lives here.”
» » »
Lyle Stroud had the A/C blasting and wasn’t sure if it was the heat outside or his nerves making him sweat. He needed to get out of this car because that was what was going to get him caught.
Stroud picked up his list and held it against the steering wheel as he drove, glancing at it briefly. A single name remained and he had no idea if the Feds had tracked the kid down or not. He had to assume they tore the shit out of his house by now. He shouldn’t have left the pictures there, but then he hadn’t planned on them discovering his identity. Stroud believed he had covered all his bases. It should’ve been an easy plan to execute. Different places, none of the kids knew one another or had any connection to him. They would’ve been untraceable.
He’d made a grave mistake early on, somewhere along the line, but didn’t know what it had been. They weren’t far behind and if they had figured out who those kids were, they’d be at the boy’s house when Stroud showed up. If they hadn’t, he could finish what he started, except for Sophie Curtis. She was one lucky kid. One thing was certain, though, this would be his last hurrah.
The question now was whether Stroud should take the risk. He’d studied the boy, learned his habits, even engaged him on social media once. The kid was bright, though, and never showed back up in that chat room.
He was so close now, he could almost taste it, and his desire grew for this final thrill, even if it wasn’t supposed to be the end of his plan. Continuing on, as he had wanted, choosing others in different places, working odd jobs and staying on the move and just picking off those kids one by one; that had been his true heart’s desire. The list he had now? It was only phase one. His “endangered species list” would’ve grown until he was satisfied he’d controlled them and consumed them until they were nothing but shells and then discarded them with the trash as he had been. He would take the risk again because he knew it would be the last. He had no more tricks up his sleeve and no other place to go. “I ain’t no one’s prison bitch.”
Stroud flicked his cigarette out the window and continued onto the outskirts of a darkened parking lot in a strip mall. He killed the lights and rolled forward to a stop. There was no time to steal another car. He could, however, take the plates off of one and put them onto the Honda. It would, at the very least, buy him some time. He stepped out of the car and made his way, as stealthy as possible, toward a nearby vehicle. This one was a newer model Chevy Tahoe. It would do.
He returned to the Honda in search of a screwdriver or something that would be a good substitute. The woman’s car was clean, no trash. He checked the glove compartment, but all that was inside was the car’s manual and insurance information.
With the center console panel raised, he peered inside. A coin. He spotted a penny and he had to laugh at the irony. He was in this predicament for just such a thing. The girl had escaped by using a coin to loosen the bolts and he’d seen that very coin lying next to the leg of the bed frame. It was an ingenious idea that he would now find himself considering.
With the coin in hand, Stroud began to remove the plate cover. It read, “My other car is a boat.”
Typical
, he thought. A noise sounded in the distance, and he stood but didn’t see anything around. He continued to the task of removing the car’s plate.
Once the change was made, Stroud started up the car and drove north, in the direction of the boy, Matthew Grimes. He looked at his list to see the schedule of the kid’s locations he’d jotted down. Tonight, the kid would already be home by the time Stroud made it there. That would present a few minor problems, not the least of which was the fact that his parents would be home.
He continued in the direction of Matthew Grimes’ house. He would draw near, then leave the car and make his way on foot as close as he could get. If the cops were waiting, he’d see them before they’d see him if he was on foot.
Surface streets offered better routes than the highway, which would surely be patrolled, so Stroud opted for the longer route. He meandered toward the suburb where the boy lived and stopped at a red light. A car pulled alongside him. Stroud cast a sideways glance, but the driver in the other car was oblivious as usual. He figured if only a quarter of the people in this country paid attention to their surroundings, crime would drop substantially. “Thank you, smart phones.”
The light turned green and the other car pulled out ahead, which was fine by him. The next right was where he would abandon the Honda and take to foot. Stroud made the turn and realized there wasn’t a good place to leave it. Sure, he could leave it roadside, but it would be easily spotted, if anyone, like cops, were looking. A change of plates would divert them, but only temporarily.
He peered through the windshield in search of a better location and noted an alleyway. “Perfect.” It was behind a row of stores and was probably there for the dumpsters. Stroud drove into the narrow alley, until it widened enough that would allow him to turn around. He parked at the edge, against a wall. The lights of the stores were off and they appeared to be closed.
Stroud exited the car but didn’t lock it. If he needed to bolt, every second would count and he highly doubted anyone would try to take it. He wasn’t planning on being very long.
With his baseball cap pulled low again, Stroud made his way to the end of the alley and veered left toward the boy’s street, which was about two blocks away.
The night hadn’t brought with it cooler temperatures and Stroud began to sweat through his shirt. Another turn to the right and he’d be on the street. This was the moment Stroud needed to remain confident. It would only take a brief look-see if there were any cops around. And so he continued, after taking a deep breath to settle his nerves. Several more steps and Stroud didn’t see anyone around. No neighbors or cars on the road. It was as if the street shut down at nine o’clock at night. The house was in view now. He stopped. Lights were on, but no cars in the drive. The kid just might be alone.
» » »
“This is the kid he’s going after.” Captain McKinnon zoomed in on the monitor in the conference room of his station. “What we know now is that whoever he is, he must live somewhere inside the area where we found Olivia Rice.”
“We need to access NGI.” Dwight turned to McKinnon. “Is your department utilizing the program?”
“Yes. When it became fully operational last year, we signed up. How will it benefit us in this scenario?”
Nick began to approach. “We had limited our search criteria to Virginia, since the other victims were in the proximity of roughly 150 miles. We had no need to assume he would venture out. And that was our mistake. Now, with the use of NGI, social media, airport travel, any place where this kid would’ve been caught on CCTV. The program will be able to run facial recognition.”
“The intent of NGI wasn’t to integrate it with those systems, with the exception of airport security. The use of it in this manner is risky, which was why we hadn’t before,” Kate replied.
“Agreed, except that the Privacy Impact Assessment hasn’t been completed for this program yet,” Nick replied. “There is currently no oversight program in place, which leaves the door wide open.”
Kate knew Nick often crossed the line when it came to obtaining information. However, she was hesitant in this instance because privacy concerns were a huge issue that the Bureau battled on a daily basis. “Agent Scarborough, if we use the program for purposes it wasn’t intended for, we’ll be vulnerable to litigation, both personally, as well as the Bureau, if privacy advocate groups get wind of it.” She also understood that Nick’s letter of censure already put him in danger of any further involvement in this scenario.
“This boy’s life is at stake and I sure as hell don’t want to be the one to look his parents in the eyes and tell them that we had a chance to save him, but we were too worried about being sued by the Electronic Frontline Organization and groups like that.” His temper was rising. “But, Agent Reid, if you’d like to make that call, I’ll defer to you.”
Fuming, Kate held his gaze, which was growing darker by the minute. She was trying to protect him and he either didn’t see that or didn’t care. Perhaps she shouldn’t care either. They could save the boy, but there was no guarantee they’d find anything. “Just do it then. We’re out of time.”
Dwight logged in and began typing on one of the computers in the back of the room. “I’ve already got this digital image in the system, since we’ve been looking for him and it appears this picture is from a social media post. We might have luck here.”
They all waited for something to pop up. Something that would give them a name and a location.
“Captain, where are we on the search for Stroud? Can you follow up with your team?” Perhaps Nick had begun to see that maybe breaking this rule could be avoided.
The captain retrieved his radio. “Four-four-two, come in. This is Captain McKinnon.”
“Four-four-two here. Go ahead.”
“Do we have a location on the 2010 Honda CRV?”
“We’re patrolling a ten-mile radius in the vicinity of our previous victim’s location. Nothing yet, but we will be broadening the search.”
“Ten-four. Thank you Four-four-two.” McKinnon turned to Nick. “They’re still searching.”
Dwight continued to access NGI and enter the parameters. Minutes passed with a painful lethargy. “Hang on, I got something here.”
Kate leaned over his shoulder. “What am I looking at?”
“This is a Facebook post—public—on April 5
th
. Looks like it came from a relative’s account. Maybe his mother?”