Page 61 of The Naturals
“It’s five feet from the bathroom door to the nearest emergency exit.” Sloane issued that observation from just outside the bathroom door. Clearly, she had better sense than to join the two of us in already cramped—and disgusting—quarters.
That went double for Agent Locke. “We have a witness who can place Genevieve going into this bathroom,” she said. “But no one remembers seeing her leave.”
Given that Genevieve probably wasn’t the only tipsy person in Club Muse that night, I wasn’t terribly surprised. It was scary to think how easy it might have been to lead a drugged girl out of the bathroom, down the hallway, and out the door.
“Nine seconds,” Sloane said. “Even if you account for a sluggish gait on Genevieve’s part, the distance between the bathroom and the closest exit is small enough that someone could have gotten her out of here in nine seconds.”
You chose Genevieve. You waited for exactly the right moment. You only needed nine seconds.
This UNSUB was meticulous. A planner.
You do everything for a reason, I thought, and the reason you took this girl is me.
“Okay, kiddies, playtime’s over.” Agent Locke had done an admirable job of fading into the background and letting us work, but clearly, she was on a timetable. “For what it’s worth, I reached the same conclusion you did. Two of the previous victims had traces of GHB in their systems. The UNSUB most likely slipped something into Genevieve’s drink and walked her right out the emergency exit with no one the wiser.”
Belatedly, I realized that Dean still had his arm wrapped around my waist. A second later, he must have realized the same thing, because he pulled away from me and took a step back.
“Any sign of the UNSUB outside?” he asked.
It was easy to forget that I wasn’t actually here as a profiler. I was here as bait, and the FBI was hoping I’d bring the killer straight to them.
“Plainclothes agents are canvassing the streets as we speak,” Agent Locke told us, “masquerading as volunteers, handing out flyers, and looking for people who might have information about Genevieve’s disappearance.”
Dean leaned back against the wall. “But you’re really just making a list of the people who approach the agents?”
Locke nodded. “Got it in one. I’m even patching a video feed through to Michael and Lia back at the house so they can analyze anyone who approaches.”
Apparently, Locke wasn’t above taking advantage of the director’s authorization to involve Naturals in this case.
She pushed a strand of stray hair out of her face. “Cassie, we need you to make a few more appearances outside. I’d have you handing out flyers if I thought we could get away with it, but even I’m not willing to push Briggs that far.”
I tried to put myself in the UNSUB’s shoes. He’d wanted me out of the house; I was out of the house. He’d wanted me involved in this case; now I was standing in the middle of the crime scene.
“Have you seen everything you need to see here?” Agent Locke asked me.
I glanced over at Dean, who was still keeping his distance.
You wanted me involved in this case.
You do everything for a reason.
The reason you took this girl is me.
“No.” I didn’t explain myself to Agent Locke. I didn’t have an explanation. But I knew in my gut that we couldn’t leave yet. If this was part of the UNSUB’s plan, if the UNSUB had wanted me to come here…
“We’re missing something.”
Something the UNSUB would have expected me to see. Something I was supposed to find, something that was supposed to hold meaning for me.
Slowly, I turned around, taking in the three-sixty view once more. I looked under the sink. I ran my fingers gingerly along the edges of the broken mirror.
Nothing.
Methodically, I raked my eyes over the graffiti on the walls. Initials and hearts, curse words and slurs, doodles, song lyrics…
“There.” A single line of text caught my eye. At first, I didn’t even read the words. All I saw were the letters: not quite cursive and not quite print, the same hyperstylized handwriting as on the cards that came with each black box.
FOR A GOOD TIME