Page 61 of The Devoted Game
“Grace”—he allowed his gaze to linger on hers a moment before he went on—“touch base with Schaffer and tell her to look for any files marked ‘random.’ That’s where I stored my personal notes on various cases. Also”—he crossed the room to study the timeline board—“ask her to look for any fan mail I received. There’s something familiar to me about the way this guy words these emails. I noticed it in that first email.” He shrugged. “The sentence structure or phrasing. Something.”
Grace reached for her cell phone. “I’ll text her now. I should also remind her of the search parameters we’re using on the fan mail list, yes?”
“Yeah, that’ll help her narrow things down.” Next Ryan turned his attention first to the photo of Alyssa Byrne, then the one of Katherine Jones. Totally different, not a single thing about their lives corresponded. “Pratt, find me a place where the lives of these two”—he pointed to Alyssa, then Katherine—“intersect. There has to be something. This guy is too intelligent and meticulous to simply be choosing indiscriminate victims. There will be a connection. Find it.”
“Yes, sir,” Pratt said with a nod.
“Davis.” Ryan turned to face the table once more. “Stay on the fan mail list.” He shifted his attention to Worth. “When Aldridge gets in, have him start looking at the crime scenes again. From the point of abduction to the point of rescue and everything in between. Is there any relevancy between, say, the cemetery and Walmart or Sloss Furnaces? Have we considered every possibility on the evidence collected?” That was a dead end, he was certain, but it needed to be looked at again.
“ASAC Talley and I are at your disposal as well,” Worth reminded him with a sincerity that couldn’t be faked even if the man wanted to bother.
“Talley,” Ryan said, addressing the assistant special agent in charge, “visit that neighbor’s boyfriend, Horace Jackson, again.” Ryan pointed to the notation on the timeline regarding Jackson’s statement. “Press him. Maybe he’ll remember something else.”
“I’ll get right on it,” Talley guaranteed.
Lastly his full attention settled on Worth. “Put together a major press conference. Use our pal Goodman.” Ryan saw the skepticism in Worth’s eyes but, to the man’s credit, he didn’t argue. “Let’s send Devoted Fan a big, public message about how the director himself has reinstated me.”
Worth pushed out of his chair. “Sounds like a good move. I’ll run your suggestion by the director. If he’s agreeable, I’ll set it up.”
Ryan gave him some ammunition. “Devoted Fan’s goal appears to be making sure the Bureau knows what a mistake was made three years ago, to see that I’m reinstated, yada-yada-yada. Let’s see if he’s being honest with us ... or even with himself,” Ryan added as an afterthought.
Grace was the first to pick up on where he was going with that theory. “You think he’s using you as a ruse? That there’s a bigger plan in motion?”
Now he would have to explain the impression, and it had only just occurred to him. “Either that or we’re looking for an unsub with a previous medical condition or, hell, an incarceration that slowed him down. I was canned three years ago. Why wait so long to show his support?”
Ryan looked directly at Grace as he spoke, couldn’t help thinking about the way she’d come three times for him. Maybe they shared more than one wavelength. “Why Birmingham? Why these particular victims? Why Oak Hill Cemetery or Sloss Furnaces? What is Devoted Fan trying to tell us? Maybe he really believes this is about me when, in reality, it’s about him.”
Ryan’s instincts sharpened; that old familiar release of galvanizing adrenaline took hold. “Whatever he’s up to, it isn’t just about me. This guy has a story to tell. We just have to be able to understand what he’s trying to say to us.”
Seventeen
The Valley Golf Course, 1:45 p.m.
Martin was well aware just how much renowned heart surgeon Dr. Kurt Trenton savored his Sunday afternoon tee times. No appointments, no surgery schedule—selecting patients and dates for surgery was among the perks of having reached prominence in one’s chosen field. Sunday mornings were spent in church with the wife and children, but Sunday afternoons were his alone.
Oxmoor Valley’s picturesque forests and countless creeks served as a pleasing backdrop to the rise and fall of the landscape. Those elevation changes added extra exhilaration for the truly dedicated golfer. There was even an impressive finish at the eighteenth hole, a 441-yard par-4 fondly dubbed “the Assassin.”
Sheer ecstasy for Kurt Trenton.
When on the green with his favorite driver in hand, he let go the stress of life-and-death situations. Valve repairs and heart transplants were far from his thoughts.
But Martin thought of those things often.
Very often.
He and Deirdre had discussed every article written about the great Dr. Trenton and his astounding medical feats. Even on Sunday afternoons while he watched Dr. Kurt Trenton prepare for his oneo’clock tee time, Martin thought of those miracles. And he pondered the hazards of the journey.
UNOS, United Network for Organ Sharing, was not as fair as it could be when it came to doling out those life-saving organs. It wasn’t supposed to be so, but there were ways to get your name higher up on the list. It wasn’t really the organization’s fault; it was all the middlemen, so to speak. The ones that entered the data. All it took was money and the right connection. Part of the problem was that the number of needed organs far exceeded the number of donors. A sad, sad fact. If a patient was fortunate enough to survive until his or her name came to the top of the list, then all hope shifted into the capable hands of the surgeon.
As with all else in life, one generally got what one paid for. Some surgeons were mediocre, while others were quite good. And, once in a great while, a truly gifted surgeon like Kurt Trenton came along.
Martin had done his research, as he did in all things. Trenton was the absolute best, bar none, in the entire country. If a patient were lucky enough to have been granted that golden second chance with a call from UNOS, having Dr. Trenton perform the surgery was guaranteed success. A rescue from the very clutches of death.
As dedicated and esteemed as Trenton was, he still had his faults. Along with his fame had come a kind of arrogance that had hardened his heart ... perhaps rendering him in need of a new one. Martin often mulled over that notion as well.
At nine tomorrow morning, the illustrious Dr. Trenton was scheduled to lead one of his miracles on the honorable Garrett Shelby, one of Alabama’s most beloved former governors. As Ronald Reagan had been to California, Garrett Shelby was to Alabama. The whole state would be watching the news tomorrow for word on his condition. Prayers would be offered, but no one would really be worried about his survival. Dr. Kurt Trenton never lost a patient.
Before he left the elite clubhouse today, Trenton would receive an unexpected call urging him to rush to the prestigious UAB Hospital where his wife hovered near death after a tragic car accident.