The Missing

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 Dia

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 Ma

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 Ma

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.’

Darby headed for the door. Carol’s smiling face was everywhere she looked.

Chapter 40

A light rain fell over Boston, the highways clogged with traffic.

Daniel Boyle, sitting behind the wheel of the Federal Express van, clicked on the blinker and turned left, heading slowly down the ramp, the shocks groaning from the weight in the back.

Two policemen were guarding the delivery area. Boyle stopped in front of a long length of steel plating. He knew what it was. With a flip of a switch, the steel plating would turn over, revealing a set of road spikes that would puncture the tires of any fleeing vehicle.

An overweight cop with a jowly face lumbered his way through the rain. Boyle rolled down his window, face pleasant, smiling.

‘Good morning, officer. This isn’t my normal route – I’m just filling in for the day. I have a package for the lab. Could you tell me where to go?’

‘You have to sign in first.’

Boyle took the clipboard. His hands were covered in leather driving gloves. He wrote the name ‘John Smith’ on the clipboard. The name matched the photo on the laminated FedEx badge clipped to his shirt pocket. Boyle had other supporting credentials ready, if needed.

He handed the clipboard back through the window. The fat cop’s partner was busy looking around the van.

‘Go down this ramp here, park in the back – you’ll see the signs marked off pretty clearly,’ the fat cop said. ‘Deliveries are through that gray door back there. Follow the corridor to the front desk. Someone there will sign for it. You don’t have to take the package up.’

Boyle was about to ease off the brakes when the second cop said, ‘Back of your van is sagging quite a bit there, fella.’

‘Shocks are gone,’ Boyle said. ‘I’ve got three more stops and this baby’s going in the shop. Rate I’m going, I’ll be working until six tonight. Great way to start the day, huh?’

The fat cop, wanting to get out of the rain, waved him through.

A bump as Boyle drove the van over the steel plating. He headed down the ramp and into the garage. Security cameras were mounted high on the walls, sweeping the area. He pulled the FedEx cap low on his brow.

There were plenty of parking spaces for the delivery trucks. Boyle chose the one closest to the stairs.