"Is that why you're so cozy with Garrett these days?" he asked sourly.
Ignoring the implication, she said, "As a matter of fact, John decided a few days ago that if you couldn't use the resources of this FBI unit, then maybe he could. You know how determined he is to find the man who attacked his sister, whatever it takes. He happens to have a friend in the unit, and the friend is here in Seattle along with his partner, on their own time and off the books. We have them to thank for how quickly Samantha Mitchell's body was found."
She had been reasonably sure that last would keep him from exploding, and she was right. But she nevertheless didn't give him time to start sputtering.
"Nobody's stepping on your authority, Luke, and all of us have only one goal in mind. We just want to stop this monster before he kills again. Give us all the tools we need to do that. Be a smart politician as well as a smart cop and call the unit in officially. Give Andy the okay to open up the investigation to them. I promise you won't regret it."
"I'd better not," he growled. "Send him in."
Maggie didn't allow a shadow of triumph to show and didn't waste time leaving the office. The bullpen was less busy than usual at this late hour, but she was still aware of considerable covert attention as she made her way to Andy's desk, where he and John waited. Not that she was surprised by the interest-Drummond's voice had rattled the windows, so it had undoubtedly been heard out here.
"He wants you," she told Andy. "He'll probably bluster a bit, but bottom line you'll get the okay to bring Quentin and Kendra in officially."
"Did you have to promise your first child?" Andy asked dryly as he rose.
"No. But I may be pouring brimstone out of my shoes tonight."
He grinned at her, then headed for Drummond's office.
"Well done," John said. "Here-sit down." He decided not to add that she looked very tired and he was worried about her.
She did, taking the other visitor's chair. "I think I'd almost rather interview a dozen witnesses than argue with Luke. He's about as bullheaded as they come."
John smiled faintly. "You convinced him. That's the important thing."
"Let's hope so." She smiled in return. "Are Quentin and Kendra likely to be up?"
"Oh, yeah, they're both night owls, especially during an ongoing investigation. Are you sure enough of Drummond to call them in right now?"
Maggie nodded. "I don't think we have any time to lose, do you?"
John reached for the phone.
WEDNESDAY, NOVEMBER 7
By the time they were all assembled in the conference room, it was after midnight. Drummond had left for home some time before, saying he'd meet "those agents" the following day, and many of the detectives who had been working on the investigation were also absent, either off duty and home or else out doing what they could to find the latest missing woman, Tara Jameson.
So it was what had become the core of the police investigative team-Andy, Scott, and Jennifer-who were introduced to Quentin and Kendra. And they wasted no time in getting to work.
Quentin prowled around studying the photos, sketches, and descriptions pinned to the bulletin board, while Kendra reported that their search of every available database for similar crimes going back more than six months had turned up nothing even remotely close anywhere in the country, indicating that he had indeed begun attacking women only six months ago.
"But there's this," Quentin said, tapping one of the bulletin boards. "Absolutely amazing. Who took the intuitive leap and dug these up?"
Andy nodded to Scott and Jennifer. "They did."
Scott explained their thinking about a rapist with a too-developed ritual.
When he was finished, Quentin was the first to speak, saying thoughtfully, "You colored outside the lines when you were a kid, didn't you?"
Scott stared at him for a moment, then caught the twinkle in the agent's eyes and grinned reluctantly. "Well, yeah."
"I'm not surprised. Very creative and intuitive thinking. And it is a perfectly rational explanation given the facts as we know them. Copycats are getting depressingly common these days. So maybe the guy did decide to borrow someone else's ritual and used a series of old, unsolved crimes to learn from."
John glanced at Maggie, but she was listening gravely and showed no inclination to interrupt. And he wasn't about to. Even if she was right in her incredible claim that they were dealing with an evil mind reborn, John didn't see how that knowledge could do anything except confuse the investigation. Assuming it was even believed.
No, they were after a flesh-and-blood killer now, whatever else he was, and that was the quarry they had to hunt down.
Andy said, "Jenn's trying to run down a witness who might have seen something in the area where Hollis Templeton was found, but he's a transient, so finding him won't be easy. The only other new point we have is Maggie's belief that this bastard knows the latest victim, Tara Jameson."
Jennifer frowned at her. "What makes you think that?"
Maggie glanced at Andy, hesitated, then shrugged. "Sometimes I feel things. A sixth sense, if you will. They call it an empathic sense."
"Which explains a lot," Andy said to the other two detectives after a moment. "That's how she gets those incredibly accurate sketches, how she… communicates… so well with victims. Isn't it, Maggie? When you tell them you know how they feel, you mean it literally."
"Usually. It's stronger with some people than others. But most victims of violent crime are… they're traumatized, their emotions much more powerful than normal. I pick that up pretty easily."
"Do you know what we're feeling right now?" Jennifer demanded.
Maggie shrugged. "In a general sense, yes. That's all I get without physical contact, just a faint impression- not much more than I'd get anyway from watching your expressions or listening to your voices."
"Tell them the rest," Quentin murmured.
She looked at him, then at the others. "Violent emotion is just another kind of energy. And it… lingers in some places, almost as if it soaks into the walls and floors, at least for a while. Sometimes, if I walk through a place where something violent has happened, I… connect with the victim or attacker. Feel a lot of what they felt at the time."
"Which is why you picked up on the arguments and stuff at the Mitchell house," Andy said and, when she nodded, quickly listed the impressions Maggie had gained from walking through that house, so that his detectives understood what they were talking about.
Maggie said, "In each case, one or both of the Mitchells were experiencing emotions more intensely than usual. The argument about the parrot was pretty fierce, as was the one Thomas Mitchell had with his father-in-law. And the broken mirror cut Samantha's hand, which caused her a lot of pain."
Jennifer said, "There've been a lot of violent emotions in this building; do you feel that?"
Grimacing slightly, Maggie said, "Until recently, all I felt was a kind of… skin-tingling sensation, like the way you feel when there's too much static electricity in the air. But it's getting more intense as time passes. At the hospital too."
"You didn't say anything," John said, not quite accusingly.
"What could I say?" She shrugged. "It's almost like background noise now, a low hum of energy just beneath the level of consciousness. Usually, anyway. Sometimes a particular impression gets through more strongly."
"For instance?" There was a challenging note to Jennifer's question.
Maggie glanced at Quentin, who said wryly, "Gotta jump through a hoop or two. It never fails."
"Yeah." Maggie saw a bit of color creep into Jennifer's cheeks, but she answered the other woman's question as if she didn't see the gauntlet thrown at her feet. "For instance… you had someone you suspect of burglary in here really early today-I mean Tuesday. The detective working the case-Harrison?-is convinced this guy has been breaking into some pretty high-class homes in the city. Problem is, you've searched his place, and you've staked out the known fences, and so far found nothing."