Cast the Cards - Page 54

Carey opened his mouth and shut it.

“Yeah, I know I’m a Fed, but I work well with others. I can’t say that about everyone in my department. I love my partner. Yet it’s not the same as working with you. We’re both close to this one.”

“Do you think they’ll take you off the case?”

“No, not when I’m the main point of contact. But they’ll watch me like a hawk.”

“Then I guess we need to get cracking. What comes next?”

“I want to compare the original card with this one. I don’t see how the clue could be in the hair or the letter. Unless he uses some sort of UV ink…” she trailed off.

“Do you want me to call in forensics to go over things?”

“No. Let’s hold off until we’ve called it in to F.B.I. There’s a line I can’t cross as much as I’d like to.”

“Okay, let’s bag everything up. Take it back our office.”

***

“What do you think it means?” Carey asked.

The minute they’d compared the two cards they’d realized the killer’s card had a series of numbers around the outer rim of the original card lacked. The Egyptian Empress sat on a throne with an Ankh in one hand and a scroll in the other. In the distance stood two golden columns covered with drawings of men from that time, and alternating blue and gold lines. Around the borders were more hieroglyphics, not numbers.

“I’m not sure. It’s long, too long to be feasible as is. The question is, how does it break down? Is it in order? A jumble of numbers they threw together? It could be a victim’s social security number, a birthday, the date they committed the crime. Hell, it could be a code. Maybe these numbers stand for letters.”

“Or maybe these assholes are trying to get under our skin and put us even more on edge,” Carey suggested.

“No, this is something. They want credit, right? To be recognized as clever, crafty, and terrifying. In order for that to happen, we need bodies and information. I’m breaking them into six or seven digit sequences, and running them through some programs to see if I get a hit. It’ll take some time.”

“Let’s take a walk, get a cup of coffee.”

“Right now?” Her incredulous expression was almost comical.

“Yeah.” He nodded.

“I get the feeling this isn’t a suggestion.”

“No, come on.” He placed a hand on the small of her back and gave her a little push.

They left their office and walked into the break room.

“Take a load off and relax. I’ll make the coffee.” She sat down at the break table and he moved over to the coffee station. Removing two Styrofoam cups from the sleeve, he added ample creamer and two scoops of sugar to one cup for her, and poured a black cup for himself.

“Here you are.” He placed her cup in front of her and took a seat beside her.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Lifting the cup to his mouth, he took a sip, watching her over the rim. “You want to talk about earlier?”

“I’m frustrated as hell we haven’t found anything.” She growled. “They’re good. Chances are there’s a tie to the law, military, or a survivalist. They’ve kept their noses clean for far too long to not have some sort of specialized training. Their kills have to be done over at least a five to ten year span of time? It’d take time finding the right victim to match the card and plan the kidnapping out. They’re meticulous and damned careful. The fact that they continue to single me out doesn’t sit well. It’s fucking with my head.”

“You scared?”

“I’d be a fool not to be. It’s clear they come and go as they please. I wouldn’t be surprised if they were watching me. I’m starting to feel eyes on my back. Worst part, I don’t know if they’re real or imagined. They’re throwing me off my game, making me doubt myself… it’s a dangerous position to be in, especially now.”

“Did you see someone that fit Clark’s description?” He lowered his voice. “Find anything out of place at the apartment?”

“No, just a gut feeling. We’re running out of time. The things they’re sending are more personal, and final. They’re ramping up. This last clue feels like the final straw, doesn’t it? I mean, why send us coordinates?” Her brow creased, meeting in the center of her forehead. “It’s like doing a victory lap before you’ve won the race.”

Tags: Shyla Colt Romance
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