Split Second

“The girl…the young woman had an incision in her left side that extended to the small of her back about four inches long. Dr. Holmes said it was very precise, almost as if he had performed surgery on her.”

“Sounds like our boy.”

“He removed her spleen.”

“A spleen isn’t very big, is it? It looked like there was much more in that pizza box.”

Tully reached for the copy of Gray’s Anatomy that he had borrowed from the library. He quickly thumbed to the place where he had used a gum wrapper as a bookmark. He grabbed his glasses.

“The spleen is about five inches in length, three inches in breadth and an inch or an inch and a half in thickness,” he read out loud, then closed the book and set it aside. “The book says the spleen weighs about seven ounces, but that depends on what stage of digestion it’s in. It can get much bigger. Our victim hadn’t eaten much that day, so her spleen was fairly small. Dr. Holmes said that some of the pancreas was also attached.”

“Were there fingerprints found anywhere at the scene?”

“Yes, we got two pretty good ones—a thumb and an index finger. But they’re not matching Stucky’s. It’s possible they may have been made accidentally by someone on the scene, but it sure seems as though they were left behind on purpose. The entire rim of the Dumpster was wiped down, and then there are these two fingerprints right smack in the middle.”

Cu

“I’ll double-check, sir, but we’re not dealing with a county sheriff department’s computer system here. We’re checking these against the ones AFIS has on Stucky, prints they’ve taken directly off Stucky. And with all due respect, I don’t think anyone can easily hack into the Bureau’s system.” AFIS (Automated Fingerprint Identification System) was the FBI’s master database. Though it networked with local, state and federal agencies, dozens of precautions were in place against computer hackers.

Cu

“It may end up being a rookie cop’s,” he told his boss, as if hoping to relieve some of Cu

Tully kept his glasses in place, feeling more alert with them on and needing to appear in control. “Sir, I haven’t found anything that would suggest Stucky is trying to send some sort of message by which organ he extracts. I wonder if I’m missing something.”

“No, you’re not missing anything. Stucky does this for shock value and simply because he can,” Cu

“Did he study to be a surgeon at some point in his life?” Tully flipped through a file Agent O’Dell had put together on Stucky’s past. In many ways it read like a résumé for a Fortune 500 executive.

“His father was a doctor.” Cu

Finally he continued, “If I remember correctly, Stucky and his partner started one of the first Internet, online stock-trading companies. Made millions and has it stashed in foreign banks.”

“If we could track some of those accounts, maybe we could track him.”

“The problem is we’ve never been able to find out how many different accounts he has or what names he uses. Stucky’s sharp, Agent Tully. He’s cu

“Certainly even Albert Stucky makes mistakes.”

“Let’s hope so. Have you found anything on where the victim may have been taken?”

Again, Tully dug out his notes from a variety of stacks, not wanting to depend on his fatigued memory. Immediately he found himself self-conscious and a bit embarrassed. His notes were scrawled on everything from a deli napkin to a brown paper towel from the men’s rest room.

“We know she was taken before she finished her route. There were some customers who called complaining they hadn’t received their pizzas. The manager is working on getting me a list of the addresses she was to deliver to.”

“Why is that taking so long?”

“They write down the addresses in one place as the orders are phoned in. The delivery person takes the only copy.”

“You’re kidding,” Cu

“It’s probably never been a problem until now. The lab is trying to raise the addresses from the indentations on the notepad page underneath. Of course, our best bet is if we find the victim’s car. Maybe the lists will have been left behind.”

“Any luck finding the car?”

“Not yet. I got the make, model and plate number from DMV. Detective Rosen put out an APB. Nothing’s shown up so far.”

“Have Reagan National and Dulles airport security check their long-term parking lots.”

“Good idea.” Tully jotted another note to himself, this time using the cash-register receipt from his lunch. Why the hell didn’t he have notepads like the rest of the world?

“He had to take her someplace,” Cu

“The thing is, sir, I’ve driven around within a ten-mile radius of where the body was found. The whole area is this picture-book community. We’re not going to find any abandoned warehouses or condemned buildings.”

“It’s also easy to miss the most obvious place, Agent Tully. You can bet Stucky will be gambling on us doing just that. What else do you have?” he asked more brusquely now as he stood away from the bookcase, suddenly in a rush.

“There was a cellular phone recovered from the Dumpster. It was reported stolen a few days ago from a local shopping mall. I’m hoping once I get the phone record, maybe it’ll lead us someplace, depending on what calls were placed.”

“Good. Sounds like you’ve got everything under control.” Cu

He pointed to the photo Tully kept on the edge of his desk. It was the only one he had. It included the three of them, arms wrapped around each other and smiling for the camera. It couldn’t have been taken that long ago, and yet he couldn’t remember them being that happy. It was the first time Cu