Page 39 of The Devoted Game

“The night Mrs. Jones disappeared, Mr. Jackson stepped out back to smoke. Evidently Mrs. Norris doesn’t permit smoking inside.”

Ryan could do without the asides, but he understood that Grace was yanking his chain. He supposed, if one took into account the tactics he used on her every chance he got, he deserved it. What could he say? He was only human. Finding a way to make life bearable without the aid of his usual tactics was a challenge all its own. He hadn’t found a solution yet.

“Mr. Jackson heard Mrs. Jones’s garage door open, and since it was after midnight he was curious. He took a peek around the corner of the house and saw her car leave the driveway. A man wearing glasses was behind the wheel.”

Anticipation zinged Ryan. “Did he give us hair color, approximate age? Anything else?”

“Nothing that specific. He’s only sure the driver was an older male—maybe fiftyish—and he wore glasses ... the old horn-rimmed style. Hair might have been dark, but he wasn’t sure about that.”

“I’ll be damned,” Ryan said, an epiphany dawning.

“Heused her car.” Drove to the scene and then back to retrieve his own vehicle. That took some major balls. This completely changed the way the vehicle was viewed. The Buick had been dusted for prints and checked for trace evidence on site, but this required additional analysis. Ryan turned to Grace. “Forensics will need to—”

“Already taken care of. The vehicle is on its way to the lab as we speak.”

Twenty, thirty minutes. That was how long it took to drive from the residence of Katherine Jones to the Sloss Furnaces. The return trip would be the one. After unloading the woman from the car, getting in through the gate, and securing her in that abandoned freezer, he would be sweaty. Sweaty, maybe with an abrasion or a cut, if he had done the air hole drilling during that same time as well. That would have made him much more likely to leave behind DNA.

Davis returned with the coffee refill.

“We have some additional criteria for you, Davis,” Ryan said with the most enthusiasm he had been able to muster all day.

Davis set his own coffee cup on the table and readied his laptop. “Let’s hear it.”

“Male, fiftyish, and with a very high IQ.”

Grace looked surprised by that last part. “Smarter than the average repeat offender,” she said, “probably, but higher-than-average IQ, how did you come to that conclusion?”

“Think about it,” Ryan said. “He knew exactly how long it would take that box to fill with water. He timed it exactly for us to rescue her, the same as we did Alyssa Byrne.”

“That’s speculation,” Grace countered.

“We found her shortly after three with about seven hours to go, or roughly thirty percent of the time we’d been given. She was sitting on her butt against the bottom of the appliance, with water reaching her shoulders. Do the math, Grace. Any way you look at it, this guy knew exactly how much time we needed.”

She considered his explanation, her expression thoughtful. “You’re right. He knew the time the tomb Alyssa was in would be resealed. Katherine Jones said Thursday night was the only night she deviated from her routine of going straight home. He planned it all that carefully. Down to the minute.” Her face grew more animated with each deduction.

“Leaves no prints or trace evidence,” Davis said, joining the summation, “and he knows the internet. Can’t catch him by any of the usual means.”

Worth strode into the room, drawing all eyes to him. “Heads up, people. We have a new communication.” Tension rippled through Ryan, setting his already raw nerves further on edge.

Worth, Davis, Pratt, and Schaffer gathered at the workstation for Ryan to open the email, as if they feared some plague would be released among them if they dared do it themselves.

Ryan dropped into the chair and made the necessary clicks. Sure enough, there it was.

Bravo, bravo, McBride!

Another marvelous success! I knew you would show them. I am very pleased! Ah, and your new partner suits you.

Ryan glanced at Grace. The unsub had definitely been watching. Bastard.

I’m certain you are anxious to learn the clues for your next challenge, but tomorrow is the Lord’s Day and you should rest. I will contact you on Monday.

Do not worry, my friend. When this is done and you have surpassed each challenge, they will know the truth and the prize will be yours.

Ever faithful,

Devoted Fan

Fury boiled up inside him and Ryan clicked the mouse to open a reply box.