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Tic came over to lay under the table between them, and laid his head on her feet.
“They reacted quickly because it fit the pattern. It still does because no trace. None. They did track down a woman who’d gone into the tattoo parlor in the same shopping center about a half hour before Preston would have closed the shop. She didn’t see anyone, didn’t see a white van. She thinks she might have seen a black one.”
“And you’re thinking they might have had it painted after the last abduction.”
She shrugged. “Not in any of the companies I’ve contacted. Witnesses aren’t always reliable. Somebody swears the car was a red compact, somebody else swears it was a blue sedan.”
Though she hadn’t finished the first, Nash put another slice on her plate. “You can handle two. Now tell me what you think.”
“I think Zach Tarrington was in that white van in the hotel lot when Rusk came out. And the people who took him knew or feared his coworker would remember it. They could’ve taken it out of the area to have it painted, or done it themselves. And I think…”
She picked up the half-finished slice.
“I should say the investigators think, and I agree, whoever’s doing this most likely works in a hospital, either medical or support staff. Somebody who’s found a way to access records. The missing didn’t all go to the same hospital, so they’ve found a way. Some of the missing’s accidents were reported—police reports, articles—so that’s another way.”
“But you’re not thinking cop?”
“Can’t rule it out, but again, different jurisdictions. And as far as where the abductors might be, Western Maryland, over into West Virginia, and up into Pennsylvania.”
“A lot of ground to cover.”
“Which helps them. If they don’t kill the abductees immediately—and why would they? There’s no gratification in that. They have to have a house, remote enough or secure enough to take people, hold them for however long as they do. It could be hours, days, hell, weeks. And they need a way to dispose of the bodies.”
She considered as she ate.
“Digging graves in this area over the winter? No easy feat.”
“Not impossible,” he pointed out, “with the right equipment.”
“No, not impossible. Maybe they have access to a backhoe, maybe one of them works with heavy equipment. Or a funeral home, a crematorium.”
Whether she knew it or not, Nash observed, she’d started to relax a bit.
“You’d have considered those angel-of-death types who decide instead of healing to kill patients.”
“They weren’t patients.”
“At one time they were. But they survived. Something like that—looking for follow-through? Religious fanatics against medical intervention?”
She studied him over a sip of Coke. “You’ve been thinking about this, too.”
“I guess I have.”
“Those are angles, and they’re taking a look there. Lori Preston’s abduction has the FBI taking an interest, and they’ve done or are doing a profile. I have to wait to be brought into that loop.”
“Will you be?”
“I think so. They’ll take a look at me.”
Nash stared at her. “As a suspect? That’s bullshit.”
“Not entirely. I’m alive due to that medical intervention, I’m law enforcement, I live in the area. I’d look at me. I’d clear me, of course, but I’d look.”
“You didn’t live in the area when the first two—ones youconnected—went missing. And were barely out of the hospital when Janet Anderson got snatched.”
“Yes, the first two happened before I was shot, before I moved back, but I have roots in the area, I pushed for information on Anderson, and I dug up—so to speak—the first two victims.”
“Okay, you convinced me. They’d better lock you up.”