“Damn it, not again!” one of the guards said as he came running forward to get a grip on Ruben.
Again? Implying that this was something that happened fairly regularly? Something that they hadn’t bothered to warn her about when they’d brought him in there. Maybe they thought that the FBI agent could handle herself, or maybe they’d been half hoping that they would have to intervene, showing her up.
Paige decided not to let any of that show on her face. She stood and dusted herself off instead.
“You might be able to escape handcuffs, Ruben, but I get to walk out of here,” Paige pointed out. “You don’t. Some escapologist.”
Now that she was sure she was safe, she was actually quite pleased that she’d come here. She knew what she needed to do next, at least.
She hurried out of the prison as quickly as she could, heading back to the car. She took out her laptop, logging in to the FBI’s systems to check the files for any details they held on the manufacturer of the safe. According to the evidence report from the crime scene, it had been manufactured by the Magical Stars of Las Vegas Prop Company.
From there, Paige started to run searches, trying to find out who worked there. She was in luck, because it seemed that the company was determined to show off its makers. The site’s “about us” page had short profiles for each of them, setting out their favorite magical effects and the work they’d done for people Paige assumed were famous magicians.
Paige ran those names through the FBI system, one by one, looking for anyone who stood out, anyone who had a criminal record. She was three names in when she came across a hit far too good to ignore.
Paige called Christopher at once.
“Christopher, I’ve got something.”
“What have you found?”
Paige could hear the excitement in his voice.
“Ruben Wendel got me thinking about the place the props for the murders came from. There’s a guy who works at the Magical Stars of Las Vegas prop company by the name of Zane Caister. The same company that made the safe, and looking at their site, I think they make the prop bullets, too.”
“What have you found about him?” Christopher said. Paige could hear the sudden note of interest in his voice.
“He got out of prison about a year ago,” Paige explained. “He served fifteen years for manslaughter, bumped down from murder.”
“He killed someone, and he works where the props used in the murders are made?” Christopher paused for a moment. “We need to talk to this guy. Pick me up from the precinct, and we’ll head straight over.”