Killing Hour - Lisa Gardner [125]
“No, sir. Construction, sir.”
Quincy looked blankly at Kaplan, who seemed to get it. “We have a number of projects active here on the base,” the special agent explained. “New firing ranges, new labs, new admin buildings. It’s been a busy summer, and most of those crews are driving vans or trucks. Hell, we’ve cleared guys on forklifts.”
Quincy closed his eyes. Rainie could already see the anger building behind his deceptively quiet façade. The little details no one thought to mention in the beginning. The one little detail, of course, that could make all the difference in a case.
“You have a ton of construction personnel active on this base,” Quincy said in a steely voice. His eyes opened. He looked straight at Kaplan. “And you never mentioned this before?”
Kaplan shifted uneasily. “Didn’t come up.”
“You have a murder on the base, and you don’t think to mention that you have an abnormally high number of eighteen-to-thirty-five-year-old males engaged in transient, menial labor, in other words, men who fit the murderer’s profile, passing through these gates?”
Now even the two Marine sentries were regarding Kaplan with interest. “Each and every person who receives authorization to enter this base must first pass security clearance,” Kaplan replied evenly. “Yeah, I got a list of the names, and yeah, my people have been reviewing them. But we don’t allow people with records on this base period—not as personnel, not as contractors, not as guests, and not as students. So it’s a clean list.”
“That’s wonderful,” Quincy said crisply. “Except for one thing, Special Agent Kaplan. Our UNSUB doesn’t have a record—he hasn’t been caught yet!”
Kaplan’s face blazed red. He was definitely aware of the two sentries watching him, and he was definitely aware of Quincy’s growing fury. But still he didn’t back down. “We pulled the list. We analyzed the names. No one has a history of violence or a record of assault. In other words, there is nothing to indicate any one of those contractors should be pursued as a suspect. Unless, excuse me, you want me to start attacking any guy who drives a cargo van.”
“It would be a start.”
“It would be half the list!”
“Yes, but then how many of those people once lived in Georgia!”
Kaplan drew up short, blinked, and Quincy finally nodded in grim satisfaction. “A simple credit report, Special Agent. That’s all you have to do. It’ll give you previous addresses and we can identify anyone who also has ties to Georgia. And then we’d have a suspect list. Don’t you think?”
“It . . . but . . . well . . . Yeah, okay.”
“There are two more girls out there,” Quincy said quietly. “And this UNSUB has gotten away with this for far too long.”
“You don’t know that he’s really a member of the construction crews,” Kaplan said stubbornly.
“No, but we should at least be asking these questions. You can’t let the UNSUB control the game. Take it from me,” Quincy’s gaze had taken on a faraway look. “You have to take control, or you will lose. With these kinds of predators, it’s all about gamesmanship. Winner takes all.”
“I’ll put my people on the list,” Kaplan said. “Give us a few hours. Where will you be?”
“At the BSU, talking to Dr. Ennunzio.”
“Has he learned anything from the ad?”
“I don’t know. But let’s hope he’s been lucky. Because the rest of us certainly haven’t.”
CHAPTER 36
Virginia
11:34 A.M.
Temperature: 97 degrees
TINA HAD GONE NATIVE. Mud streaked her arms, her legs, her pretty green sundress. She had stinking ooze coating her face and neck, primordial slime squishing between her toes. Now she picked up another sticky handful and smeared it across her chest.
She remembered reading a book in high school, Lord of the Flies. According to one of the notations in the handy yellow Cliffs Notes, Lord of the Flies was really about a wet dream. Tina hadn’t gotten that part. Mostly she remembered the stranded kids turning into little savages, first taking on wild boars, then taking on one another. The