Friday, December 7, 5:40 a.m.
Mia met him at the curb. "I'm sorry. I didn't want her to follow us here."
Reed looked around. It was a well-kept neighborhood. "Where is here?"
"Blennard's daughter's house. Something Wheaton said about the sins of the father made me think."
"Wheaton was just trying to get a rise out of you, Mia."
"I know." She started walking up the front walk. "But what if the Doughertys were killed because of the sins of Joe Junior's parents! And based on the way Donna Dougherty died, the sins of his mother? Blennard said the Doughertys were always taking in boys."
Realization dawned. "Foster parents. And they're both Joe Dougherty. Joe Junior never even needed to change the name on the mailbox. He killed the wrong couple."
"I think so. I tried calling to confirm with Joe Senior, but the cops in Florida say his heart attack was really bad. He's intubated, so he can't talk. But maybe Blennard remembers something." She rang the bell and a man came to the door. "I'm Detective Mitchell and this is my partner, Lieutenant Solliday. We need to talk to Mrs. Blennard."
"Clyde, who is it?" Mrs. Blennard came to the man's side, the hearing aid now in her ear. Her eyes widened. "What can I do for you, Detectives?"
"Ma'am," Mia started. "You said the Doughertys 'took in lost boys.' Did you mean they were foster parents?"
"Yes. For ten years or more after Joe Junior moved away and got married. Why?" Her old eyes sharpened. "The other woman killed, Penny Hill… she was a social worker."
One side of Mia's mouth lifted in respect. "Yes, ma'am. Do you remember any trouble they had with anyone? The boys? Their families maybe?"
She frowned, thinking. "It's been a long time. I know they took in a lot of boys. I'm sorry, Detective, I can't remember. You should ask Joe Senior. I'll get you his number."
"It's all right. I called him." Mia hesitated. "Ma'am, he didn't take the news well."
The old cheeks went a shade paler. "His heart's been bad for years. Is he dead?"
"No, but he's not good." She tore a page from her notebook and scrawled a name. "This is the officer I talked to in Florida. Now, we have to go. Thank you."
"He spared Joe Junior and stopped in the middle of his revenge against the woman he thought was Laura Dougherty," she said when they were outside.
"Because he realized he had the wrong woman. It makes sense. Nice job."
"Would have been nicer if I'd figured it out sooner." She stopped at her car where the white cat lay curled on her seat. "Now we have to find a list of all the kids Penny Hill placed with the Doughertys."
"And figure out which kid is connected to White."
"Or whatever his name is. Move over, Percy." She got in, shoved the cat to the passenger seat. "But first, I have to talk to Burnette."
"I'll follow you there."
Friday, December 1, 6:05 A.M.
Mia was waiting at the curb. "The house is dark," he said. "They're probably asleep."
Mia turned only her head, leveled him a sober look. "Reed, he's going to bury his daughter today. Burnette thinks he's responsible. If it were Beth… Could you sleep?"
Harshly he cleared his throat. "No. I couldn't." They walked up the sidewalk to the door where the picture of the turkey still hung. Such a small thing, but it made his chest hurt. Time had stood still for this family. For a week, a father had lived with the knowledge that he'd been a tool in his child's brutal murder. If it had been Beth…
Mia knocked. The door opened to Roger Burnette, his face haggard and worn.
"Can we come in?" Mia asked and he nodded wordlessly and led them inside.
In the living room, Burnette stopped with his back to them and Reed couldn't help noticing that the room which had been so neat and tidy before now… was not. Mostly there was clutter. But in one wall there was a hole, waist-high and fist-sized and Reed could picture a father, tormented by grief and rage and guilt putting it there.
Burnette slowly turned. "You caught him." It was barely a murmur.
Mia shook her head. "Not yet."
Burnette's chin lifted, eyes cold. "Then why are you here?"
Mia met the man's eyes without wavering. "We found out tonight that the real target at the Doughertys' house were the previous homeowners. Joe Dougherty's parents." She paused, let it sink in. "Not Caitlin. And not you."
For a moment Burnette stood, rigid and unmoving. Then he nodded. "Thank you."
She swallowed. "Try to sleep now, sir. We'll see ourselves out."
They'd turned for the door when Reed heard the first sob. More like the cry of a wounded animal than a man. But it wasn't the expression on Burnette's face that stabbed Reed's heart the deepest. It was the expression on Mia's. A naked, desperate longing that before last night Reed would not have understood.
Roger Burnette had loved his child. Bobby Mitchell had not.
Shaken, Reed took her arm and gently pulled. "Let's go," he murmured.
"Detective."
Drawing a deep, shuddering breath, Mia turned back. "Sir?"
"I'm sorry, Detective. I was wrong."
Reed frowned, but Mia seemed to know what he meant. "It's all right," she said.
"No, it's not. I said some terrible things. You are a good cop. Everyone says so. Your father would have been very proud and I was out of line to say anything different."
The nod she gave Burnette was harsh. "Thank you, sir."
Under Reed's hand, she trembled violently. "We'll be going now," Reed said. "Again, our condolences." He waited until they stood at the curb. "What was that?"
She wouldn't look at him. "He came by last night. After you left. He was not pleased that we had not caught the man who mutilated and killed his child."
Fury took him by surprise. "The bruise on your arm?"
"It was nothing. He's a grief-stricken father."
"That didn't give him the right to put his hands on you."
Reed's own hands clenched.
"No, it didn't." She started walking. "But at least he cared."
"And your father wouldn't have. I'm sorry, Mia."
Her hand faltered on the car door. "Yeah. Well." She sniffed at her sleeve. "I smell like a stale fireplace. I'm going back to Lauren's for a shower before morning meeting. Do you think she'd mind if I brought Percy with me? He's had kind of a hard week."
The subject of Bobby Mitchell was closed. For now. "I sure she wouldn't mind at all."
"Fine. I'll meet you at Spinnelli's at eight."
He stood frowning as she drove away. She'd pulled away and he didn't want to admit that it stung. But it did. This, he supposed, was the flip side to no-strings. He could walk away when he wanted to. So could she.
It was what he wanted. What she'd said she needed. Now he had to wonder if either of them truly knew what they were doing.
Friday, December 1, 7:10 A.M.
"There," Mia muttered as she poured kitty litter into the plastic box as Percy watched. "Don't say I never bought you anything." She opened a can of cat food and dumped it in the bowl that said cat she'd thrown in the Wal-Mart cart on impulse on her way back to Lauren's. She put the bowl on the floor and sat as Percy chowed down.
"I'm an idiot," she murmured aloud to no one at all, cringing as she thought of all she'd told Reed last night. But in his arms it had seemed a natural thing to do. He was a good listener and… hell. She'd become a typical female, spilling her guts in pillow talk after mind-blowing sex. She rolled her eyes, mortified now.
"I'm an idiot." She'd laid herself bare to a man who'd been honest enough to say he only wanted her for mind-blowing sex. This morning, standing in Burnette's living room, Reed Solliday had seen and understood way too much. And he'd pitied her.
The thought rankled, burned deep. She'd wanted him on equal terms. Sex. No strings. Pity completely fucked that up.
She looked around Lauren's kitchen. She didn't belong here. That he'd manipulated her into coming here proved they'd never really been on equal terms. She should just pack her bag and leave. She eyed the cat. Maybe Dana would take him.
Dana owed her that much, with all that damned talk of hamburger and having it all.
She stood up. Dana would take the damn cat. Then tomorrow she'd find a new place. Give Lauren back her house. And as for Solliday… She had to be honest. No need to throw out the baby with the bathwater. She still wanted mind-blowing sex. So first, she had to get them back on equal terms. No more pillow talk. No more pity.
Friday, December 1, 8:10 A.M.
"Well, at least we finally have the connection," Spinnelli said grimly.
"By noon we should have a list of names," Mia said from the opposite end of the table, where she'd very deliberately placed herself. "DCFS is going through all the files from the period when the older Doughertys were foster parents."
"Before we only took Penny Hill's files for the last two years," Reed added, trying not to focus on the fact that she hadn't looked at him once. "We never would have found them listed. Once we get names, we can start matching them to his picture."
Spinnelli went to the white board. "Okay, we've got some irons in the fire now. I want to know who the hell this guy really is and where he lives." He was making notes on the board as he spoke. "I want to tie him to the first two fires with something more than access to the plastic eggs and I want to know why the hell he's doing all this.
"Murphy, you and Aidan find out where he lives. Continue showing the teacher's picture in the area where we found the car he used to get away from Brooke Adler's. Find somebody who knows this guy outside of Hope Center. Jack, have we found anything physical tying him to either the Doughertys' house or Penny Hill's house?"
"There's nothing left in the houses that we haven't sifted through," Jack said.
"We never found Penny Hill's car," Reed said. "Maybe he left something there."
"Penny's boss gave us a list of the gifts she got at the retirement party." Mia rubbed the back of her neck wearily. "If somebody found her car, they may have hocked them."
"I'll have someone check the pawnshops," Spinnelli said. "Mia, anything from Atlantic City PD?"
"Not yet. I'll call them to see if they found either of our guys on their tapes." She squinted at the board. "We're missing something. We need to know why he's doing this but also why now? Miles said that something triggered this to happen now."
"What do you recommend?" Spinnelli asked.
"I dunno. But I still get a very strange feeling from that school. He taught for six months, then all the sudden goes on an arson and murder spree. Why?"
"You talked to the teachers about Brooke," Spinnelli said. "Ask them about White."
She nodded. "Okay."
"I want to know how he knew where to find the Doughertys last night," Reed said. "They checked into the Beacon Inn on Tuesday. Judith Blennard said they came to her house Wednesday afternoon. He found them Thursday night. He couldn't have been waiting all day for them to leave because he was at Hope Center teaching."
"The hotel must have told him," Mia said. "We should go by on our way to Hope."
"Aidan, you take Atlantic City PD. Mia and Reed will cover the hotel and the school."
Aidan wrote it in his own little book. "Will do."
"Anything else?" Spinnelli asked.
"Caitlin Burnette's funeral is at ten," Mia said. "Do you think he'll go? Should we?"
"I'll handle that," Spinnelli said. "Jack's got video surveillance planned and I'll be in the congregation. I honestly don't think he'll be there. Caitlin was an accident, but I'll watch. You're all dismissed. Call me with any news. I have a press conference at two this afternoon and I'd like to look reasonably capable. Mia, stay for a minute."
Reed waited outside the door, but he could still hear.
"Kelsey got moved at oh-seven-hundred this morning. She's safe."
Reed heard her tired sigh of relief. "Thank you."
"You're welcome. Oh, and Mia, try to catch a few hours sleep. You look terrible."
Her chuckle was wry. "Thank you."
Reed fell into step alongside her when she came through the door. "I think you look pretty damn good," he murmured.
He'd hoped she'd laugh, but the look she sent him was almost grave and sent a sudden shaft of panic through his heart. It was the first time she'd really looked at him since leaving Burnette's house. "Thank you," she said quietly.
He said nothing until they were sitting inside the SUV. "What's wrong?"
"Just tired. I have to make some time to go apartment hunting tomorrow."
He felt the breath leave his lungs. "What?"
She smiled at him, but it was cool. "I never expected to put Lauren out for more than a night or two. Reed, staying at your place was temporary. We both knew that."
Temporary. He was beginning to dislike that word. But she was right. He hadn't planned to oust Lauren from her side of the duplex forever. So for how long had you planned to have Mia stay? Until your craving was satisfied? Until you got tired of her?
Yes. No. Hell. "And us?"
She was perfectly calm and his heart was pounding which irritated the hell out of him. "For as long as we want to continue. Let's get to work. Beacon Inn, please."
Jaw tight, he pulled into traffic and made it to the next light when her cell phone rang.
"This is Mitchell… Yeah, put him through. Mr. Secrest, what can I do for you?" She bolted upright. "When?… Have you touched anything?… Fine. We'll be right there."
Reed pulled into the left lane to do a U-turn back toward Hope Center. "What?"
"Jeff DeMartino is dead."
Friday, December 1, 8:55 a.m.
"He didn't respond to the morning wake-up call so the guard called the nurse," Secrest said. "The nurse called me and I called you." The boy lay on his back, skin waxen, lifeless eyes staring up at the ceiling. CSU was already snapping pictures.
"When was the last time anybody saw him alive?" Mia demanded.
"The guards check every room in this unit every thirty minutes during the night. He was here in his bed." Secrest looked frustrated. "The closest anybody can remember seeing him walking, talking, and breathing was last night at nine thirty. That's his group's assigned shower hour."
"Excuse me." Sam Barrington stepped inside the room, filling it further.
"We got the big guns this time," Mia murmured and Reed hushed her.
"Nobody's touched him, Sam," Reed said.
"Where's the nurse? I want his medical history five minutes ago."
Secrest held it out. "She pulled his file right after she called me."
"Where is she?" Sam repeated, pulling on gloves. "I want her here."
Secrest gave the folder to Mia with a scowl. "She's in the infirmary. I'll call her."
Sam crouched close to examine the boy. "Spinnelli asked me to come. The victim's been dead at least ten hours. No obvious wounds or trauma… except…"
Reed stepped to Sam's left, Mia to his right. "Except what?" she asked.
"This." Sam held up the boy's hand. "He's got a cut on his thumb and it's fresh."
"Before-dead fresh or after-dead fresh?" she asked.
"Before. Just before." Sam stared down at the boy. "Let me see his file." Mia passed it to him and Sam scanned. "He was healthy. No heart issues, no asthma."
"Just a little cut," Mia mused. "Where's the blood from the cut?"
"There's a smudge on the blanket," the CSU tech said. "Right on the edge."
"On the middle of the bed," she said. "Like he was sitting there and wiped it. You see a knife?"
The tech shook his head. "It could be under him."
"You done with the pictures?" Sam asked the tech. "Then let's roll him. Gently." Sam and Reed lifted and Mia crowed.
"There it is," she said. "Jackknife with the blade pulled out." It lay flat on the bed.
"Don't touch it," Sam snapped when she reached a gloved hand under the body. "If it's what I'm thinking, you don't want to touch it."
Mia brows went up. "Poison?"
"Yeah." Sam crouched down, shone a flashlight at the boy's bare back. "From the lividity and the bruising, I'd say he was lying on the hilt of the knife before he died."
"He fell on it," she said thoughtfully. "Now, where would Jeff get a knife?"
"Same place Manny got matches?" Reed countered.
"Looks like Manny may have been telling the truth. Did you look at those matches?"
Reed shook his head. "No, but I want to now."
Sam looked from Reed to Mia. "You're thinking they were booby-trapped."
"Yeah." Reed nodded and turned to where Secrest stood watching from the doorway. "Do you still have the matches you found in Manny's room?"
Secrest nodded. "In my office. I'll get them for you."
Mia held up her hand. "Mr. Secrest, just a minute please. Who were the boys in Jeff's group? The one's who shared the shower hour?"
"Jeff, Manny, Regis Hunt, and Thaddeus Lewin. The boys call Thad 'Faggeus'." An uncomfortable expression tightened Secrest's face. "Thad was taken to the clinic Thanksgiving night."
"For?" Mia asked.
"He complained of a stomachache," the nurse said. "But he'd been assaulted."
Secrest moved so that the nurse could get through. She stood looking at Jeff with a curious mixture of contempt and… satisfaction that made Reed frown.
"Assaulted how?" Reed asked and she looked up, met his eyes.
"Thad was sodomized. There was rectal tearing. He denied it happened."
"And you think Jeff did it," Reed said quietly.
She nodded. "But Thad wouldn't talk. All the boys were afraid of Jeff."
"Which is why you're glad he's dead," Mia said and the nurse's eyes went hard.
"I'm not glad he's dead." She shrugged. "Per se. But he was a vile, angry, mean boy. We were terrified of what he would do when he was released next month. Now we don't have to be afraid anymore." Suddenly she snapped her gaze up to Secrest. "Thad had a visitor Thanksgiving night. Devin White. Thad called him."
"Your trigger," Reed murmured.
"You're right," Mia murmured back, then cleared her throat. "I'd like to take Thad and Regis Hunt downtown for a chat. Line up your advocates and have them meet us there." She looked around. "Where's Bixby? I would have thought he'd be here for this."
Again Secrest looked uncomfortable. "He hasn't arrived yet."
Mia rolled her eyes. "Wonderful. I'll get a unit to his house and an APB for his car."
Friday, December 1, 10:10 a.m.
The manager at the Beacon Inn was irritable. "Excuse me," Mia said.
He didn't look up. "I'm sorry, ma'am, but you'll need to wait your turn."
The customer at the counter smirked. "End of the line's down there," the man said.
"Want me to teach him some manners?" Reed murmured behind her and she huffed a chuckle, ignoring the shiver that raced down her spine. This was why she didn't do cops and why it was against regulations to do partners. Even temporary ones. It was too damn hard to concentrate. She'd pulled off being cool and collected when he'd asked about us but it had taken everything she'd had. Now she focused on the hotel manager who'd made the unfortunate choice to ignore her.
"No, let me." She slapped her shield on the counter. "Take a break, pal."
The manager's look was murderous as his eyes lifted. "What now?"
Mia frowned at him. "What do you mean, 'what now?" You, wait over there," she said to the customer who was no longer smug. "I'm Detective Mitchell, Homicide. This is my partner. Lieutenant Solliday, OFI. What do you mean, 'what now?'"
"Homicide? I was afraid of that." His eyes filled with weary resignation. "I'm sorry. Half my staff is out with the flu and my assistant manager never showed up for her shift this morning. I'm Chester Preble. How can I help you?"
"First, tell me what's happened here," she said, softening her tone.
"Officers in uniform came by this morning, checking out a missing person report. Niki Markov. She checked in Wednesday and her husband called Thursday morning. Said she wasn't answering her phone. I told him perhaps she'd stepped out." He shrugged uneasily. "People come here to get away from their spouses, if you know what I mean. We try to be discreet."
"But the husband filed a missing person report," Mia said, instinct sending a new shiver down her spine. "And she hasn't come back."
"She wasn't due to check out until today. Her clothes are still hanging in her closet."
"What room is she in?" Mia asked.
"Room 129. I can take you to it if you give me just a minute to check out the people who have planes to catch."
"Sir," she said sharply, "this is a homicide investigation. These people have to wait."
"You found her… body, then?" he asked, some of the color draining from his face.
"No. I"m investigating another homicide. A couple who checked out Wednesday was killed last night. Joe and Donna Dougherty. Can you see what room they were in?"
He tapped a few keys, then all his remaining color drained away. "Room 129."
"Hell," Solliday murmured.
Mia raked her fingers through her hair. She had a headache brewing. "Yeah."
Friday, December 7, 10:50 a.m.
"You rang?" Jack asked and came in room 129 with his CSU team, all wearing white coveralls.
"Niki Mnrkov. reported missing This was Joe and Donna Dougherty's room until Wednesday," Mia said.
"You think he came, thinking they were still here," Jack said. "And found Markov."
"Her clothes are in the closet," Solliday said. "But all her suitcases are gone. Those are her sales materials stacked there on the bed."
Jack grimaced as he grasped what she and Solliday had already surmised. "Oh God." Then he gave a brisk nod to his team. "Start checking this room," he said. "I'll check out the bathroom." Quickly, capably, he removed the trap from the tub. "We'll check it for hair and… other stuff." He then treated the shower tiles with Luminol. Thirty minutes later, he turned out the lights.
Every surface glowed. For a few beats, the three of them just stared.
"That's a hell of a lot of blood," Jack finally said. "Given the suitcases are gone, 1 think a reasonable assumption is-"
"That he dismembered her," Mia finished grimly. "Good God. I'm losing count." She pressed her fingers to her temples. "Caitlin, Penny, Thompson, Brooke and Roxanne…"
"Joe and Donna," Solliday added quietly. "Jeff and now Niki Markov. That's nine."
She looked at him. "Count to ten?" she asked and he shrugged.
"Maybe. Although he had nothing against this woman."
"She was an accident," she murmured. "Like Caitlin. Wrong place, very wrong time."
"I'll see what I can find," Jack said. "In all this mess, he had to have left something."
"And I'll get the information on her next of kin. I got the number for Donna's from her boss on the way over." She sighed, dreading the task as she dreaded no other. "Then I'll tell Markov's husband and Donna Dougherty's mother that they're dead."
"I'll tell them," Reed said. "You don't have to do that alone, Mia."
She nodded wearily, surprising him. "All right. Call us when you find something, Jack. We'll see if he took Markov's car. Hopefully we'll find her body."
Friday, December I, 11:50 a.m.
Jenny Q slid her tray next to Beth's and sat down. "So what are you gonna do?"
"I don't know. I do know I'm not missing this, Jenny. He's being so damn stubborn."
Jenny sighed. "And I had my sister all ready to cover for us. Cost me, too."
Beth squared her jaw. "I'll just… leave," she said and Jenny laughed.
"No, you won't. You're not going to just walk out with him screaming behind you."
"No." Beth agreed. "I'll find another way."
Friday, December 1, 1:30 p.m.
"I'd hoped for a suspect in custody," Spinnelli said quietly. "Not two more bodies."
They had regrouped. Mia sat between Murphy and Aidan, and Reed had been joined by Miles Westphalen. Sam sat the far end of the table and Jack was still at the Beacon Inn, processing the Markov crime scene. Reed brooded, still depressed from breaking the news to two families that the people they loved were never coming home.
He didn't deal with death often in his role as a fire investigator. The apartment fire last year was the biggest loss of life he'd dealt with in his career. He couldn't fathom how Mia dealt with the families day after day for all the years she'd been with Homicide.
Across the table, she sighed. "We don't know where he is, but we're getting closer to motive. It had something to do with the kid, Thad's assault. We've got Thad Lewin and Regis Hunt in separate interview rooms. We'll talk to them when we're done here."
"I found the solid accelerant on the matches Secrest found in Manny's shoe," Reed said. "If Manny had lit one he would have been severely burned."
"Secrest checked the security tapes for White's classroom for Tuesday, the day they searched Manny's room," she said. "He saw White pause next to Manny's desk. He might have dropped the matches in his shoes then, or not. But he did find White on video dropping the knife into Joey's open backpack."
"Did they check the third boy's room? Regis Hunt?" Aidan asked.
"Secrest found another knife in Hunt's room," Mia said.
"Coated with D-tubocuranine." Sam said. "Both knives were coated with it. And I found it in the victim's urine tox."
Reed frowned. "Tubocuranine? Are you sure?"
"I did the rush urine tox myself," Sam answered. "I never saw a curare victim before and I was interested. My initial take is that the victim died of respiratory failure."
Mia's eyes widened and a chuckle of disbelief escaped her lips. "Curare? Like in Amazon jungle tribes and poison darts? You're joking."
"No, I'm not," Sam said. "Today it's used in surgery. It's available in hospitals, veterinary clinics… All your guy would have had to do was steal a vial and cook it down in a glass pot on the stove." He stood. "Thanks for lunch. I have to get back now."
"Aidan?" Spinnelli said when Sam was gone. "Anything from Atlantic City?"
"Yeah. The Silver Casino found the real Devin White on their tapes. He was an inept gambler until his luck suddenly changed. Not enough to kick him out, but enough that they watched him. Security remembered him because at the end of his stay, he met with a certain well-known card counter who had been thrown out of the casino."
"Math Boy," Mia murmured.
"Yeah. He went by the name Dean Anderson, but they found the real Anderson died two years ago. Casino security said our guy had a gift. Could calculate odds in his head like a computer. But the casino people weren't the only ones who remembered him. The police have had him on their short list for the last year."
"Do I want to know why?" Spinnelli asked.
"Rape," Aidan said succinctly. "A string of rapes for the six months before last June. They'd been watching Anderson but they think he made them. Then in June the assaults stopped. They had no idea where he'd disappeared to."
"He met the real Devin White, helped him win, won his trust." Mia shook her head. "Then he took his life and… took his life."
"It would explain why he faked his prints for the school. He knew he was wanted and didn't want to get traced back," Murphy said thoughtfully.
"That's what I figured. And," Aidan added, "most of the rape victims had broken legs so they couldn't run or kick. When we find him, New Jersey wants a bite."
"They'll have to stand in line," Mia muttered.
"We have to catch him first," Spinnelli said, "and we still don't know the bastard's real name. Murphy?"
"We've covered about half the search area. Nobody's seen him."
A thought poked through the dark cloud in Reed's mind. "Did you check pet shops?"
"No," Murphy said. "Why?"
"Because this guy likes animals and he's had access to a surgical pharmacy. Some of the big pet shops have vet offices in them now. I just took my daughter's puppy to one for his shots. One-stop shopping. It's worth a try."
"Yeah, it is," Murphy agreed. "I'll go when we're done."
Spinnelli stood up, tugged at his uniform. "I've got to get to that press conference. We've had about three hundred calls on the photo the news services have been broadcasting. Stacy's weeded out the obvious crackpots. Aidan's eliminated some of the others. I've left the list on your desk, Mia."
She turned to Westphalen who'd been silent. "What are you thinking, Miles?"
"I'm thinking there are patterns here as well as an understanding of human nature."
"Okay," she said. "What about the patterns?"
"Numbers. He says 'count to ten' and does mental statistics to help him gamble. He's been very precise in everything he's done. And think about this. He stole Devin White's identity, but he didn't have to take his job. He likes math. He likes numbers."
"He managed the football pool at Hope." Mia pulled the stat sheets they'd taken from the computer in his classroom and frowned. "He lost often."
Reed went around the table to look over her shoulder. "But he lost only when the Lions lost. He picked the Lions even when his own statistics said they'd lose."
She looked up at him, a smile playing on her lips. "Home team sentiment?"
He nodded. "Our boy's got ties to Detroit."
"Let's send his picture to Detroit PD. See if anybody recognizes him."
"Send it to their DCFS," Miles suggested. "I'll bet he's been in trouble before. And he knows the way these kids' minds work. Look at the traps he set for Manny and Jeff. He tempted them with the things he knew they'd be powerless to refuse." He waved his hand before Reed could say a word. "That they'd choose not to refuse," he amended.
"Thank you," Reed said dryly. "But you're right. He did pick the best temptation. And even if Manny didn't light the matches, he was caught with contraband. He knew the first thing Jeff would do would be to test the sharpness of the blade, to see if was real. And even if he didn't, he'd be caught. Sent to real jail. You're right. He knows the drill. He's spent time in juvie or knows someone who has."
"Thank you," Miles said, just as dryly. "One other thing. The way he focused on the Doughtertys. He missed them twice and went back for them a third time."
"He had to finish," Mia said. "They're super important or he's super compulsive."
"I'm thinking some of the first, more the second," Miles said. "Maybe his compulsive personality is something we can use."
"But like Spinnelli said, we have to find him first," she sighed.
Murphy tapped the table with his ever present carrot stick. "Mia, you said you'd have the list of the kids Penny Hill placed with the Doughertys by noon."
"You're right. I should have had the list by now. I'll call them. Aidan, can you keep helping us with the three hundred phone calls?"
"Sure."
She stood up. "Then let's go."