Roadside Crosses (Kathryn Dance 2)

"I like that." Boling picked up on the joke. "A show about kinesics, sure. You could call it The Body Reader. Can I be a special guest star?"

Though she was hardly in a humorous mood, Dance laughed.

TJ said, "I get to be the handsome young sidekick who's always flirting with the gorgeous girl agents. Can we hire some gorgeous girl agents, boss? Not that you aren't. But you know what I mean."

"How're we doing?"

Boling explained that the supercomputer linked to Travis's hadn't had any luck cracking the boy's pass code.

One hour, or three hundred years.

"Nothing to do but keep waiting." He pulled off the gloves and returned to tracking down the identities of posters who might be at risk.

"And, Rey?" Dance glanced at quiet Rey Carraneo, who still was going through the many pages of notes and sketches they'd found in Travis's bedroom.

"Lot of gobbledygook, ma'am," Carraneo said, the Anglo word very stiff in a Latino mouth. "Languages I don't recognize, numbers, doodles, spaceships, trees with faces in them, aliens. And pictures of bodies cut open, hearts and organs. Kid's pretty messed up."

"Any places at all he's mentioned?"

"Sure," the agent said. "They just don't seem to be on earth."

"Here are some more names." Boling handed her a sheet of paper with another six names and addresses of posters.

Dance looked up the phone numbers in the state database and called to warn them that Travis presented a threat.

It was then that her computer pinged with an incoming email. She read it, surprised to see the sender. Michael O'Neil. He must've been real busy; he rarely sent her messages, preferring to talk to her in person.

K--

Hate to say, but the container situation is heating up big time. TSA and Homeland Sec. are getting worried.

I'll still help you out on the Travis Brigham case--ride herd on forensics and drop in when I can--but this one'll take up most of my time. Sorry.

--M

The case involving the shipping container from Indonesia. Apparently he couldn't put it on hold any longer. Dance was fiercely disappointed. Why now? She sighed in frustration. A twinge of loneliness too. She realized that between the Los Angeles homicide case against J. Doe and the roadside crosses situation, she and O'Neil had seen each other almost daily for the past week. Th

at was more, on average, than she'd seen her husband.

She really wanted his expertise in the pursuit of Travis Brigham. And she wasn't ashamed to admit that she simply wanted his company too. Funny how just talking, sharing thoughts and speculations was such an elixir. But his case was clearly important and that was enough for her. She typed a fast reply.

Good luck, miss you.

Backspaced, deleting the final two words and the punctuation. She rewrote: Good luck. Stay in touch.

Then he was gone from her mind.

Dance had a small TV in the office. It was on now and she happened to glance at it. She blinked in shock. On the screen at the moment was a wooden cross.

Did it have to do with the case? Had they found another one?

Then the camera panned on and settled on the Reverend R. Samuel Fisk. It was a report on the euthanasia protest--which now, she realized with a sinking heart, had shifted to focus on her mother. The cross was in the hand of a protester.

She turned up the volume. A reporter was asking Fisk if he'd actually called for the murder of abortion doctors, as The Chilton Report had said. With eyes that struck her as icy and calculating, the man of the cloth gazed back at the camera and said that his words had been twisted by the liberal media.

She recalled the Fisk quotation in The Report. She couldn't think of a clearer call to murder. She'd be curious to see if Chilton posted a follow-up.

She muted the set. She and the CBI had their own problems with the media. Through leaks, scanners and that magical way the press learns details about cases, the story about the crosses as prelude to murder, and that a teenage student was the suspect, had gone public. Calls about the "Mask Killer," the "Social Network Killer," the "Roadside Cross Killer" were now flooding the CBI lines (despite the fact that Travis hadn't managed actually to kill the two intended victims--and that no social networking sites were directly involved).