Spider's Web (34 page)

Her phone rang within thirty seconds.

“Hello?”

“When did you get this message?” Mitchell sounded half-deranged, his voice growling and raw. Ricky had second thoughts about the person she’d chosen to contact.

“Jovan Stokes just sent it by e-mail,” she said hurriedly. “He called me and said that he wants it published on our site at one o’clock. There’s another image.”

“What other image?”

“Some sort of machine. I think he intends to use it to kill her.”

There was a moment of silence.

“I need you to come to the station,” Mitchell finally said. There was a strange note to his voice. Relief. He’d thought Tanessa was dead, Ricky realized.

“Jovan said that if I contact the cops, he’ll kill Tanessa immediately,” Ricky said. “He might be watching me. Or maybe he has a source in the police.”

“He has nothing, he’s just bluffing,” Mitchell said.

“Are you willing to bet Tanessa’s life on it?” she asked.

There was a second of silence. “Send me both images,” he finally said. “Do not do anything with them. Do not publish them unless we tell you to. If you don’t do as I say, my sister’s death is on you.”

“I don’t want Tanessa to die, Detective Lonnie.” Ricky said, hurt. “Of course I’ll do as you say. I have the phone number he called from. I’ll send it to you as well.”

“Okay,” he said. For a moment she thought he was about to thank her, but instead he simply said, “We’ll be in touch.”

He was the second person to hang up on her that morning. Her body was screaming for action, but she knew she had done all she could to save Tanessa’s life. Now it was time to write one hell of a story.

Chapter Thirty-Two

Mitchell’s heart drummed in his chest. Alive. Tanessa was still alive. For the past few hours, he had begun to believe his sister was dead. He’d imagined himself telling Richard, their mom, their dad. Thoughts of a life without Tanessa had hounded him, nearly driving him into a sobbing fit. And now he knew she was alive.

He was suddenly driven, focused; he needed to do something to get his sister back. The entire detective squad was drowning in noise. He’d told the captain, who had updated the chief. Now there were three FBI agents in the room along with Agent Mancuso, as well as the four detectives, the captain, the chief, and Zoe. The small space was not intended for such a large crowd, and everyone was talking simultaneously.

“Okay, listen up!” Captain Bailey shouted, and the noise died down. Agent Mancuso nodded at the captain and left the room with the other agents.

“Here’s where we’re at,” the captain said. “Zoe, Agent Mancuso, and I agree that in all likelihood, Jovan Stokes intends to keep Officer Lonnie alive until a few minutes after the article is published, at one o’clock. This is our assumption, but we can’t rule out the possibility that he might decide to…” He hesitated, glancing at Mitchell. “…kill her before that, so we need to work as fast as possible.”

Mitchell’s leg tapped impatiently. They needed to move! What was with all the talking?

“He probably plans to somehow use this machine that he showed Ms. Nate to murder Tanessa, so we have to figure out what this machine is. Now, here’s the thing: Jovan Stokes hinted that he has sources in the department. We don’t know if it’s true, but we can’t rule it out. He stated clearly that if the police are involved, Tanessa will die immediately. So we need to keep this a secret. Only the FBI are involved, and we’re not talking to anyone outside the squad.”

“What about the state police?” Jacob asked.

“They’re left out of the loop for safety’s sake,” Bailey said. “Here’s what we do. The FBI are going to do their thing; we’ll do ours. I’ll coordinate between the two groups. Mitchell!”

Mitchell’s heart jumped as his name was called. “Sir?”

“Try to find what you can on the number Jovan used to call Ricky Nate. He’s been careful so far, but he might have messed up this time. Bernard, I want you to work on Tanessa’s image, see if you can glean anything about her whereabouts. Jacob, Hannah, I need you to figure out what this damn machine is. Zoe, I want you to call Ricky Nate, get her to describe the entire conversation with Jovan, and see if you can figure out what he’s thinking. Okay, let’s go!”

Mitchell felt the room burst into action as he turned to his own task, the phone number. Ricky Nate had sent him the number. He called the district attorney, intent on getting an urgent warrant for the info on the number.

A few minutes later, he was still talking to one of the clerks at the district attorney’s office, trying to explain that this was urgent beyond belief. The clerk repeated over and over that he understood, that they were working as fast as they could, but Mitchell felt like he didn’t realize how critical it was.

“Got it!” Hannah suddenly said. All of them gathered around her screen, where numerous images of the same machine were displayed. “I got the answer on a Reddit thread,” she said. “It’s a commercial meat grinder.”

Mitchell felt the blood drain out of his face, a wave of dizziness overcoming him. A meat grinder. The sick asshole. He felt a hand grabbing his arm, stabilizing him.

“Are you okay?” Jacob asked.

“Yeah,” he said, though he felt as if he never would be.

“Okay,” Captain Bailey said. “Either he found a commercial meat grinder somewhere in Glenmore Park, or he bought one. Bernard, Jacob, hit the phones. Figure out who sells those things, either new or secondhand. This looks like a damn heavy machine, so focus on anywhere within the state. Mitchell, try Ebay, Craigslist… whatever website you can think of that might sell these things. Hannah, try to figure out where in Glenmore Park you can get such a thing. Call all the butchers, supermarkets, and so on.”

Mitchell returned to his phone call, opening a browser to start chats with Customer Support at Ebay, Craigslist, and Amazon. His confidence grew. They were progressing!

Two hours later, his confidence was shrinking again. The marks of fatigue and frustration were starting to show themselves on everyone. At one point, after a particularly frustrating chat with Ebay Customer Support, Mitchell picked up his keyboard and slammed it on the table, breaking it to pieces. It seemed as if they were getting nowhere and time was running out.

Zoe was helping Hannah make phone calls. They managed to peg two butcher shops in Glenmore Park in which there were commercial meat grinders. The owners sent them pictures of the machines, but they didn’t seem to match the one Ricky Nate had sent Mitchell. Captain Bailey didn’t dispatch anyone there yet. If Jovan Stokes planned to crash one of those butcheries, they’d have to ambush him. Sending a patrol over to those places too early would simply alert the killer, making him flee.

Mitchell finally got the warrant for the phone number. His heart in overdrive, he called the phone company. The entire call felt like it took hours, though when he glanced at the phone screen once he finished the call, he saw it had been just under twenty-three minutes.

“Captain!” he said. “The call was made from New Hampshire!”

At that same moment, Agent Mancuso barged into the squad room.

“We got him,” she said. “He’s in New Hampshire, at a warehouse.”

The Feds had located a man who’d sold a commercial meat grinder three days before. The meat grinder was delivered to a warehouse in New Hampshire, about thirty miles from Glenmore Park. The Feds had contacted the seller, and received an image of the meat grinder. It matched.

There were no more commands to give. No phone calls to make. No websites to check. They all dashed to their desks, grabbing their car keys, their guns, their phones.

Mitchell grabbed his gun, then felt Captain Bailey put a hand on his shoulder.

“Detective Lonnie,” he said, his hand holding Mitchell firmly. “I need you to stay here. We might need a man to coordinate the efforts with dispatch, and—”

Mitchell pulled his shoulder away in rage. “Sir,” he said, feeling as if it were holding back a freight train. “This is my sister we’re talking about.”

“I know,” Bailey said. “That’s why I’m telling you to stay.”

“Go to hell,” Mitchell spat, feeling his face redden.

“Detective, if I have to, I’ll put you in a holding cell,” Bailey said sharply. “Don’t make me waste any more time.”

Mitchell took a step forward, but Jacob got between him and the captain.

“We’ll bring her back, Mitchell,” he said softly. “Trust me.”

Mitchell looked at Jacob, gritting his teeth. Finally, his shoulders sagged and he nodded, his throat clenching. Captain Bailey nodded at him gravely and walked past him, his foot crunching over a discarded keyboard key.

Jacob drove the car, with Captain Bailey in the passenger’s seat, navigating with a road map and his phone. They flashed past the other cars on the road, their speed constantly hovering around ninety.

“You can slow down,” Bailey said, his voice strained. “We still have some time.”

“We don’t know that Jovan will actually wait for one o’clock,” Jacob said, veering right to avoid running into a bus. “He might be grinding Tanessa as we speak.”

“Don’t say that,” Bailey said.

“It is what it is,” Jacob said. He felt sick. How would this day end? Would he be able to keep his promise to his partner? Or would he have to process another grisly murder scene? Images of possible scenarios flashed through his mind, and he wished he could turn off his imagination. When he’d been young, he had loved watching B movies littered with violence and gore. Now, as his imagination conjured images of Tanessa murdered in horrid ways, he regretted that pastime deeply.

The captain began talking to various people on the phone, trying to figure out their approach. Finally, after several phone calls, he turned to Jacob and said, “There’s a bend in the road, about two hundred feet before the warehouse. Park the car there.” He called Hannah and Bernard to tell them the same thing, then they drove in silence for a while.

“Do you think Jovan has a man on the force?” Jacob asked.

“No,” Bailey shook his head. “I think he was bluffing. If he had someone, he wouldn’t have walked into our trap in the flower shop. But he might be tracking Ricky Nate, or listening to police frequencies. There’s no way to know for sure. Turn right here.”

The car tires squealed as Jacob pressed the brakes, pulling off to the right. He felt the rear tires momentarily slide on the road as he wrestled with the steering wheel, straightening them in the right lane, narrowly avoiding a white Ford whose driver was honking furiously.

“If we end up in a ditch, we won’t get Tanessa back!” Bailey roared at him. “Slow the fuck down, Detective!”

He slowed down to eighty, gritting his teeth.

Finally, they were half a mile from the warehouse. Jacob pressed the brakes and the car slowed to a reasonable pace. His muscles relaxed. Until then, he hadn’t been aware of how tense his own driving had made him.

“There.” Bailey pointed at two parked Chevrolets. “Stop there.”

Jacob pulled off the lane, the car tires crunching gravel and dry leaves. He stopped the car just before the two Chevys. Six agents in body armor stood outside the cars. Agent Mancuso walked back and forth next to one of the Chevys, shouting into a shoulder mic. As Bailey and Jacob got out of the car, she stopped shouting, shaking her head.

“Only just managed to stop the damn chopper,” she said, her voice hard and angry. “Idiots nearly flew in, exposing us.”

Rows of trees stood on both sides of the road, and beyond them Jacob could see the occasional houses that spotted this area. It was a cloudless day, the sky was blue, and once Agent Mancuso stopped talking birds could be heard chirping. It was so calm, and ridiculously pastoral, considering the reason they were there.

Jacob took a deep breath, trying to focus. He was exhausted, and worrying thoughts gnawed at his heart.

“Do you think Mitchell will stay put?” Bailey asked.

“I have no idea,” Jacob said.

Some cars passed by, and then another Chevrolet showed up and parked behind them. Three agents got out of it. A second later, Bernard’s car appeared and parked behind them. Hannah and Bernard got out, and joined the group.

The agents and detectives advanced on the side of the road. They marched quickly at first, but as they reached the bend they slowed down. They were almost crouching as they circled the twist in the road, looking intently for the warehouse.

It was beyond some trees, in a slightly unkempt field. It was made of concrete, painted beige, with a rolling steel door in front. Further away, they could see a small house, and it looked as if the warehouse was part of the same property. They split into two groups that took both sides of the warehouse. Two agents with sniper rifles disappeared into the foliage.

Agent Mancuso got to the rolling door first, her gun already in her hand. As Bailey and Jacob joined her, she nodded at the locking mechanism of the rolling door. It was broken, leaving a small slit in the door’s center. Someone had forced the door open. Jacob tried to peer through the lock, but couldn’t see a thing. The space inside was dark, or maybe something was simply blocking the view.

The second group circled the warehouse and finally joined them. One of the agents shook his head, indicating that there were no other exits. They took the left part of the door, and the group led by Christine Mancuso took the the right. The problem with a rolling door was that it couldn’t be opened with a kick. One of the agents, a six-foot tower of a man, bent down, preparing to pull the door open as the others tensed, raising their guns, fingers in the trigger guards. One of the agents held a flashbang in his hand.

The large agent pulled the door up, the metal curtain roll sliding with a metallic groan, the flashbang already tossed inside. Though he expected the explosion, the loud bang still made Jacob’s heart jump. The warehouse interior flashed and the agents burst inside with the detectives following them, guns raised, their eyes scanning the open space frantically.