Page 63

“Sweet dreams, Birdie.”
If they feature Bastien, then god, I hope not. I clear my throat and reply, “Sleep well, Bash.”
“I mean it. No more working tonight.”
Tempting fate, I bite my lip before teasing, “I’ll go straight to bed, Daddy.”
“Grr.”
I end the call before Bastien can complain, and the screen goes black. The following silence reminds me that I’m naked in my office on the executive floor of the illustrious Knot Corporation. I scramble for my clothes, pulling them on quickly. And then, true to my word, I close up my office, leaving the flowers in the hallway.
Walking back to the dorms feels weird. I didn’t realize I was barefoot, but thankfully, I don’t run into any security on my way back down. While my shoeless condition is easily explained, I don’t want to have to answer for my flushed appearance.
The stillness of the empty dorm doesn’t bother me since I’m used to living alone. I pick up my abandoned sandwich and munch my way through gathering stuff for a shower and the trip to the locker room.
Though anticipating Bastien’s return keeps me up for a while, I sleep well thanks to his brand of relaxation. My only disappointment is that I don’t dream of him during the night.
Morning brings news of three consultation requests from the Department of Justice. It’s pretty standard stuff regarding the need for my skills, but one involves finding a child kidnapper. Despite having an initial lead, police lost the perpetrator, whose digital signature has gone cold after starting out erratic.
Arriving at my office, I’m glad to see the flowers are gone
I get started on the kidnapping case first. Protecting and saving kids is the most important thing I do, and I wouldn’t be able to focus on anything else anyway. Thankfully, we don’t have any teams needing logistical help right now.
The whole morning is spent studying the information the feds had on Roger Willis, the thirty-eight-year-old who took ten-year-old Jaxis Bishop. The two are unrelated, which makes the situation more dire. Jaxis was taken from a city soccer complex in Ohio, where his younger sister’s team was having practice.
The huge complex features eight full-size soccer fields roped off as needed for younger age groups. Jaxis was in the adjacent playground with some kids he’d gotten to know during the season. They were playing Pokémon, something they do often.
One of the boys in the group reported a man in a red truck grabbed Jaxis and took off. The boy couldn’t say if he’d seen the man in the red truck before. None of the kids recognized him either. That was four days ago.
Since Jaxis was taken, no contact has been made with the family, and no ransom demands have been called in to the police—all bad signs.
Early on, the Feds thought they’d found Willis, but he managed to evade them in the backwoods town he’d been traced to. He has no known family, and work associates report that he’s mentally underdeveloped.
Several sightings have been called in over the last two days, but the patterns are so erratic the FBI didn’t deem them credible. They followed up on the few within thirty miles of the soccer park, but no trace was ever found.
Some in the bureau think Willis himself called in the tips to impede the investigation. After looking through his medical records and watching videos of therapy sessions, I don’t think he’s capable of that level of planning. Still, if I’ve learned anything working here, it’s that you never take anything for granted.
My assignment is to find Willis or at least give the police an idea of where to look. Since he took Jaxis, he hasn’t used any credit cards and doesn’t have a phone to track, or at least not with him. That leaves the random tips reported to the authorities as the only place to start.
I draw up a map of the Midwest and tag every sighting, no matter how unlikely, trying to establish a pattern. In my career, I’ve tracked people who wouldn’t make a left turn, no matter how much time it added to their route. Once, a woman wouldn’t drive on any road with the letter R in the name. The possibilities are as unpredictable as they are endless.
The therapist’s notes don’t list any obsessive-compulsive disorder habits for Willis, but I assume it’s because being OCD is secondary to Willis’ overall development.
After an hour of checking reports and mapping, I lean back in my seat and study the big picture I’ve created. I hate to admit it, but I’m just as stumped as the feds. I don’t see any letter or number patterns or other attributes occurring consistently.
Zooming out to a distance of five hundred miles, I stare at the screen, clearing my mind of any biased thoughts. Willis’ sightings are entirely random, crisscrossing state lines back and forth without rhyme or reason.
Or are they?
I pull up the initial report again, reviewing witness statements. The boys were playing Pokémon. Pokémon. No way.
A quick internet search brings up several cute characters featured in the game. Bouncing back and forth between the search results and the map, I think I might have just figured out a pattern. I sketch a crude outline on screen, lining it up with the map sightings. I’ll be damned.
I’m dialing my contact three seconds later. “You’ll find Willis in Lancaster or Lansing next.”
The agent is stunned. “How the hell did you find him?”
“I didn’t. Willis drew me a map. One of those two places is next.”