Killing Hour - Lisa Gardner [131]
“You’re taking a lot of interest in this case.”
“It’s what I do.”
“You’ve gone out of your way to focus on the caller, when in fact, you deal with notes.”
“Linguistics is linguistics.”
“We’re accepting all theories,” Quincy tried one last time. “Even the fuzzy, half-baked ones.”
Ennunzio finally hesitated. “I don’t know. There’s just something about this . . . A feeling I get on occasion. But feelings are not facts, and in my line of work I should know better.”
“Would it make a difference,” Rainie said, “if we told you we had three more clues?”
“What are they?”
“Water. Some kind of residue. And some uncooked rice. We believe we can trace the water and residue. We haven’t a clue about the rice.”
Ennunzio was gazing at them now with a curious smile on his face. “Rice?”
“Uncooked long grain. What about it?”
“You said he favors dangerous terrain, correct? Unpopulated areas where there is little risk of his victims being found by accident? Oh, he is good, very, very good. . . .”
“What the hell do you know, Ennunzio?”
“I know I used to be a caver in my younger days. And now I know your UNSUB was, as well. Quick, we need to make a call!”
CHAPTER 38
Virginia
3:12 P.M.
Temperature: 101 degrees
THE SUN WAS HIGH IN THE SKY. It baked Tina’s little pit, until the mud flaked off her body to reveal tantalizing slices of burnt, festering skin, and the mosquitoes had themselves some lunch. Tina didn’t care anymore. She barely felt the pain.
No more sweat. She didn’t even have to pee and it had easily been over twelve hours. Nope, not even the tiniest drop of water could be squeezed from her body. Dehydration definitely severe now. She worked at her task, covered in goose bumps and shivering again and again from some deep, unnatural chill.
Rocks didn’t work. Too large and bulky for prying away rotting wood. She’d remembered her purse and feverishly dumped out the contents in a jumbled pile on the center of the boulder. A metal nail file. Much better.
Now she gouged out slices of old railroad ties, desperately crafting footholds and handholds while the mosquitoes buzzed her face, the yellow flies bit her shoulders, and the world spun round and round and round.
Nail file dropped. She slithered to the ground. Panting hard. Her hand trembled. It took so much effort just to locate the file in the mud. Oh looky, another snake.
She would like to close her eyes now. She would like to sink back into the comforting stink of the muck. She would feel it slide across her hair, her cheek, her throat. She would part her lips and let it into her mouth.
Fight or die, fight or die, fight or die. It was all up to her, and it was getting so hard to know the difference.
Tina retrieved the nail file. She went back to work on the railroad ties, while the sun burned white-hot overhead.
“Where am I going? Right turn? Okay, now what? Wait, wait, you said right. No, you said left. Damn, give me a sec.” Mac slammed the brakes, threw his rental car in reverse and jolted backward thirty feet on the old dirt road. Sitting beside him, Kimberly was trying desperately to find their location on a Virginia state map. Most of these old logging roads didn’t seem to show up, however, and now he had Ray Lee Chee trying to guide him by cell phone over terrain that was as spotty as the phone connection.
“What? Say that again? Yeah, but I’m only hearing every fourth word. Bats? What’s this about bats?”
“Cavers . . . rescue team . . . bats . . . on cars,” Ray said.
“A batmobile?” Mac said, just as Kimberly yelled, “Look out!” He glanced up in time to see the giant tree fallen smack across the middle of the road.
He hit the brakes. In the backseat, Nora Ray went, “Oooomph.”
“Everyone okay?”
Kimberly looked at Nora Ray, Nora Ray looked at Kimberly. Simultaneously, they both nodded. Mac gave up on the road for a second, and returned his attention to the cell phone.
“Ray, how close are we?”
“. . . two . . . three . . . zzz.”
“Miles?”
“Miles,” Ray confirmed.
All right, forget the damn car, they could walk. “How’s the team coming?