“Easier for you to treat him like a suspect, you mean,” Taylor said.
That pushed Hall over the edge. His voice rose. “Easier to keep an eye on him and to keep him safe. Yes, we needed to question him. You’d do exactly the same if this happened on your turf. The BOLO’s the only reason the local cops didn’t slap him in cuffs on the spot—it had him listed as a kidnapping victim. Man covered in blood, missing an eye, talking about his dead girlfriend? They didn’t know what they were dealing with.”
“Easy, you two. No one’s to blame for this,” Baldwin interjected. He raised an eyebrow, silently admonishing her, then turned back to Hall. “Please, continue.”
Hall sighed heavily and ran his hands over his sparse hair. “There’s not much more to tell. We sent our team to meet with him first thing this morning. They must have been ambushed on the way. I just don’t know how this could happen. This whole case has been on close hold since they found the boat. What time did you meet the suspects, Dr. Baldwin? Were they already here?”
“Yes. It was early, 7:00 a.m. or so. They were here before me, had already been introduced around. The people who would have seen their credentials are dead, so we can’t ask whether they were federal-issue or copies. Hell, they might have bluffed their way in, they really did look the part. I didn’t ask to see their creds. I wish to God I had. Sansom gave me her card, though.”
He pulled it from his wallet. Hall looked it over, then motioned for an evidence tech.
“That’s the real Renee’s card, all right. Might get some prints off it if we’re lucky.”
Baldwin handed the card to his tech by the edges, watched Hall issue instructions, the tech scurry away. Hall turned back to them.
“They were well-ensconced by the time you got here?”
Baldwin nodded. “Yes. They must have been lying in wait for your agents, knowing they were coming to take Fitz into protective custody. Who arranged for him to be flown to Duke, by the way?”
“That was me. He was obviously a mess, and I know the doctor at Duke, we did our undergrad together. He’s done some really groundbreaking work on optics. I figured it was the best place for him.”
Taylor softened at that. “I appreciate that. We’ve had the flight diverted to Nashville. I hope you understand. You’re welcome to come talk to Fitz there.”
“Yeah, I get it. Can’t say I really blame you, we really screwed the pooch. I can’t imagine how this happened.”
Taylor crossed her arms on her chest. “You need to be looking closely at your staff. Someone leaked sensitive information out of the SBI. I hate to tell you this, but you’ve got a traitor.”
Eight
Taylor and Baldwin went over the details with SSA Hall for another forty minutes, but nothing else shook loose.
Taylor had to admit, Hall was a good cop. He ticked off his checklist just like she would, methodical and thorough, not rushing, moving ahead to another point only once every available detail had been squeezed out of the moment. They’d all been bamboozled by the imposters, and no one wanted to make any more mistakes. She respected that, and tried to keep her impatience to a minimum. She was worried about Fitz, just wanted to get back on her own turf. Someplace she knew she could defend herself properly.
All those agents. She didn’t envy Hall the job of informing the families, something that couldn’t happen until they had all the details of the crime scene down pat.
She had a crazy thought, one that tore through her mind like a storm. Could Sansom’s imposter be the Pretender? Could it have been a woman all along?
That would be almost too far-fetched. They had DNA from several of the crime scenes, but that was easily planted. She thought about how the woman leaned in to hear the details, her eyes shining at the descriptions of the kills.
No, that didn’t feel right. It was possible, but so unlikely that Taylor forced it from her head. This maniac was a man who used women, then disposed of them like dirty Kleenex, tossed to the floor without a second thought.
When the SBI lead was finished with them and started working the scene, she called in to her boss, Commander Joan Huston, and filled her in on the situation. Talking to Huston helped settle Taylor’s mind—her boss was as pragmatic as she was capable. Huston assured Taylor that Fitz had arrived and was scheduled for surgery with Vanderbilt’s ophthalmologic team later in the day. Lincoln Ross was with him.
Taylor finally felt as if she could breathe again. Fitz was safe.
Now she could focus on the problem at hand.
The Nags Head Police Station resembled a kicked-over anthill. Crime scene techs swarmed the scene. The bodies had yet to be moved, there was too much evidence to collect first. Despite the chill, a lone lazy fly bumbled through the hallway, drunk on blood. She swatted at it and missed, cursing as it darted into a heating vent. It would be back, and it would bring friends. She hoped they could get out of here quickly.
She and Baldwin were taken to separate rooms to do an Identi-Kit on the three suspects. She missed the days of actual artists working on sketches; while the Identi-Kits were quick and convenient, they lacked a certain level of perfection, a way of layering in the slight details that a human could seize upon with a flick of a pencil. While the officer plugged her description of the suspects’ features into the program, Taylor had a bizarre sense of déjà vu, of sitting with another artist, in another police station, giving a detailed description of the man she thought might be the Pretender.
This case. This goddamn case, with its maybes and theoreticals. She had to stop him. Nothing else existed for her now.
When they were finished with the artists, Hall debriefed them again, in the same room where they’d spent the morning talking to a killer.
“So I just got a call. A body was found out on Highway 64, out by Plymouth. Fits the description of the goon who impersonated Wally Polakis.”
“How was he killed?” Taylor asked.
“Shot in the head, tossed out of the car. He was found sprawled on the side of the road, you know how bodies do when they’re shoved out of moving cars.”
“So the car will have blood in it.”
“If we find it. There’s so many back roads in this area, bridges and trails—they could dump the car, catch another ride and it will take us a week to find it.”
“But they’re turning on each other. That’s good. Maybe they’ll eliminate themselves and do us all a favor,” Baldwin said.
Taylor gave him an unpleasant smile. “One can only hope. But it was probably prearranged. Too many cooks spoil the broth, especially when you’re taking orders from a killer who likes to be top dog.”
Hall rubbed his hands over his head wearily. “Girl, you’re starting to scare me. Are y’all ready to go over it all again?”
Baldwin went first, describing what had been discussed and the shift in personality when the fake Sansom started to show her hand.
“They were good. Very good.
