“Not anything that’s promising.” Griffin checked his watch. “We’re about to go into a teleconference with a profiler from Washington. You’re welcome to join us, but you may find it as pointless as I will. I doubt he’ll tell us anything our own profilers haven’t already come up with.”
He was right, not very promising, Kendra thought. She had hoped for more. But she turned and followed Griffin toward the desk. “If it’s the only game in town, you can bet I’ll sit in.”
* * *
TRUE TO GRIFFIN’S WORDS, the meeting was a fairly pointless exercise, with few new insights. They were just wrapping up when a shrill, high-pitched beeping sound pierced the relative quiet of the war room.
A terribly familiar sound.
Lynch looked over at the large projection screen. “Is that what I think it is?”
Again, Kendra thought. The nightmare was beginning all over again.
“Shit!” Griffin abruptly cut the teleconference link. The agents around the long table bolted toward the front of the room.
As it had the night before, the beeping was coming from the phone-company technician’s laptop. Once again, a red dot now appeared on the map.
Kendra’s eyes widened as she jumped to her feet. She gazed up at the large projected map, which had remained unchanged since yesterday. Excitement was gripping her, taking her breath.
Excitement … and dread.
Have we got you this time, Myatt?
The technician was already looking at his laptop screen. “This is another one of the three phones we’ve been tracking, Agent Griffin. It just connected with the network.”
Griffin shook his head. “Myatt used the other phone on a timer to draw us out to Dean Halley’s house. He may be using this one the same way.”
Lynch studied the map. “He’s east of Descanso. It almost looks like—”
“Oh, my God.” Kendra felt a sickening jolt, her gaze fastened on the map. It couldn’t be true.
Don’t let it be true.
Lynch nodded slowly as he saw her face.
“What’s happening?” Griffin asked.
The worst thing that could possibly happen.
“He’s found my mother and Olivia.”
* * *
“MOM, YOU HAVE TO GET OUT OF THERE. Do you hear me? Immediately. Don’t argue, just move.”
“Hold on, you keep fading out. I’m out on the balcony, and I get lousy reception here.” Diane moved through the house with her mobile phone, trying to find the spot with the best reception. She finally found herself in the living room. It was dark outside, and Nelson was turning off lights in the living room as he talked into his phone. He was standing straight and speaking in the clipped, efficient tone he adopted whenever he spoke to the Bureau higher-ups. Not a good sign, Diane thought.
“Now, what’s happened?” Diane said into the phone. “Nelson is looking very … professional.”
“Good. That’s what we want from him. Myatt’s found you. He’s somewhere in your vicinity. Griffin’s explaining it to Nelson right now. You’re going to leave the house immediately and go to the Sheriff’s Department in Julian.”
“Wouldn’t it be better for us to stay here and let the police and FBI come here? This could be your chance to catch this psychopath.”
“No. We will not use you as bait. Do exactly as Nelson tells you to do. Okay?”
“I still think—”
“No. Mom, don’t think. Please don’t think. Just get the hell out of there. Where’s Olivia?”
“In the kitchen. She’s on her laptop.”
“Good. Stay together. Do exactly as Nelson tells you.”
“You already said that.”
“Because I know you.” She paused. “I love you, Mom.”
“Oh, Lord. You’re being sentimental. Now I am scared.”
“You’ll be fine. I’ll see you in less than an hour.”
Kendra cut the connection. Diane looked up to see that Nelson had pulled his automatic from the holster and was checking the cartridge.
“It’ll be okay,” he said.
“You sound as if you’re trying to convince yourself.” Olivia entered from the kitchen with her work knapsack slung over her shoulder.
“We have a bit of a situation,” he said. “But nothing to worry about.”
“Nothing except for the killer lurking outside. Excuse me for eavesdropping on your phone conversations, but since no one bothered to call me, I had nothing better to do.”
Still holding the gun, Nelson picked up his phone and punched a number. He listened, then hung up. “No answer from Tad Martlin.”
“That doesn’t necessarily mean anything,” Diane said. “The cell reception is spotty up here.”