“Just on close-sounding substitutes. She verified the phrase you came up with that means ‘birthmark’ in Mandarin. The only phrase that came closer was tai chee, which means ‘too late’ in Cantonese.”
“I guess ‘too late’ can be ominous. Maybe he meant it was too late for Tina.” Sloane frowned. “Although the context is off. Tina said he used it like a proper noun.”
“There’s no point in beating our heads against the wall,” Derek concluded. “If there’s something to find, Yan Dié will find it.” He stood up and stretched. “It’s almost five o’clock. I want to check in with Joe, see if he found anything on that video footage. After that, I’m going to head back to the city, get the case file to Larry, and see if I can start on those preliminary searches.”
“Don’t you have to be in Atlantic City?”
“Not if I’m running down a lead in the Truman case that requires my being in New York. I need to get one of my former NYPD detectives who’s now part of the C-6 task force to get me into Puzzle Palace so I can access RTCC.” He glanced at his watch. “Why don’t you make photocopies of your notes on the case, so I can include them in the material I send Larry. Also write down any specifics you want included in my database searches. I’ll combine your specs with mine, and compile a list of criteria to run against the databases. Right now I want to call Joe. I got the sense he has something for me. His last e-mail came in twenty minutes ago, and it sounded optimistic.”
“Then call him,” Sloane urged. “I’ll photocopy my notes and make that list. You get Joe’s update, and head back to the city to get started.”
“You do know that a relief security detail is on its way to your house,” Derek reminded her. “Manny Gomez. He’s a great guy. Went from retired NYPD sergeant, to semiretired and going crazy, to running a small security company. He’s got a top-notch team working for him. You’ll be in good hands. He’s due here at six. I’ll wait till he gets here, introduce you, and then hit the road. Manny will drive you over to Elsa’s house when you’re ready to go.”
“Okay.” Somehow, Sloane didn’t feel like arguing. In fact, she welcomed the knowledge that a detective would be keeping an eye on her. Until her trigger finger was up to par, she wasn’t in a position to shoot down an armed killer, no matter how good her reflexes were. She was fast, but a bullet was faster.
She went to get her file, and Derek went to the phone.
“Joe,” she heard him say. “Did you isolate that red flash you spotted?” A pause. “Sure I’ll wait a minute—if you send me something worthwhile.” A long silence. “Yeah, I’m at my laptop. Fire away.”
A minute later, the bing of the incoming e-mail sounded. The click-click Sloane heard was Derek, opening the jpeg attachment.
“Damn, you’re good,” were his next words. “Let me get Sloane in here to see if she can identify the woman.”
“Here I am.” Sloane dashed back into the room, leaning over to study the screen. It was a woman, dressed in red, standing behind a tree and sipping a bottle of water. The picture wasn’t crisp or full face, but Sloane could clearly make out the profile.
The years melted away, and the knot in her stomach tightened. “That’s Penny,” she confirmed without hesitation.
“You’re sure?”
“Positive.”
“Okay, we have confirmation of the victim’s identity. Now let’s see what else we’ve got.” Derek opened the next jpeg.
In this photo, Penny had put away her water and was about to take a step toward the path. At the same time, her head was angled slightly toward the camera, and she looked puzzled, as if someone in the woods had called her name.
Sloane must have made a pained sound, because Derek looked up at her. “You all right?”
“I’m fine.”
“Ready for the last one?”
“No. But open it anyway.” Sloane clenched her teeth as Derek complied.
The third photo appeared on his screen.
A dark, hooded figure had his right arm across Penny’s throat, and his left hand over her mouth. Their faces were angled away from the camera, and the lighting in that area was poor—no surprise, given that he was restraining her in a thick cluster of trees—so it was hard to make out the details. But from the seclusion of the spot he’d picked, it was no wonder none of the students strolling along the lake path had noticed anything or were even glancing their way. The two of them were practically invisible.
Sloane strained to make out what was happening. The man was behind Penny, but there was no missing the silver glint of the weapon protruding across the left side of Penny’s throat.
It was a long, Bowie-type combat knife.
Bile rose in Sloane’s throat. Suspecting what had happened to her childhood friend, and seeing it unfold before her very eyes, were two different things.
“You okay?” Derek asked quietly.
Sloane gave a tight nod. “We’re going to get this son of a bitch,” she said in a hard, no-bullshit tone. “And when we do, he’s going to wish he was never born.”
CHAPTER