Twenty-Two
The room went silent after my epiphany—not one of them challenging what I’d deduced. They must have seen it too.
“We can place our unsub at Magical Bar & Grill,” I said.
“At nine, Brandon,” Paige began. “But Banks dropped Bridges off at nine thirty.”
“Around the same time our unsub left his stool,” I said.
“How could he know he’d catch Banks?” Marsh asked.
“I don’t have all the answers.” I shook my head. “But we know from the GPS records that Banks’s vehicle was in the bar’s lot from nine thirty until eleven. Our unsub left not long after Bridges came in.”
“I know we figured earlier that Banks was likely killed in the parking lot, but no one saw a thing?” Skepticism licked Paige’s tone.
“I don’t know how he pulled it all off yet,” I admitted. “The restaurant doesn’t have security video outside, but maybe we should take a physical look around the lot? We might find something useful.”
“You’re assuming the car and Banks were in the lot. He could have dropped Bridges off out front,” Paige suggested.
“I’m just talking out a theory,” I said.
“Brandon,” Marsh started, “you were going to say something a bit ago about the geography of the accidents? Before the debate about drinking and driving?”
I stared at her, trying to remember. “Oh right. All the accidents happened in a close vicinity. I was wondering if West, Sullivan, and Kelter were all treated at the same hospital.”
“West and Sullivan were treated at the same hospital. I assume the same holds true for Kelter,” Marsh said. “Looking at the hospital didn’t lead anywhere with West and Sullivan, but I can look into it again and with Kelter.”
“It’s probably a good idea,” Jack said.
It was hard to fight a smile. “Look into EMTs, doctors, nurses,” I added. “Maybe we’ll get lucky and one of them is our unsub.”
“I’ve got it, Brandon,” Marsh said. “All the accidents took place between eleven and three in the morning, too. I know there are years between the accidents, but it could possibly put the unsub on the same shift.”
“We could expand our search for this guy to anyone whose job could have brought them to the scene,” Zach reasoned. “City workers? There’d be need for redirecting traffic, possibly shutting off power. Reporters?”
“Actually, Marsh, I’m going to get Nadia to see if she can find any name that comes up more than once for the occupations we’ve mentioned.” Jack began. “Why don’t you go speak with Bridges’s security company and see if you can get the footage from this morning.”
Marsh nodded. “I can do—”
The door to the room burst open, and a man walked in with three men tailing him. Two of them wore earpieces.
The man in the lead was broad shouldered and barrel chested. He wore a tailored suit, and given its styling, I’d say it didn’t come off any rack at a department store.
“Please, Mayor Conklin,” the man in the back said. “If we could just—”
Conklin spun and jabbed a meaty finger toward the man, making him flush. “I demand an update on my niece’s whereabouts. I heard that someone answered her phone, that you have a suspect.”
Jack got to within six inches of Conklin. “We’re working on tracking him down.”
“And who are you?” Conklin challenged.
“Supervisory Special Agent Jack Harper and this—” Jack gestured to Paige, Zach, and me “—is my team, from the FBI Behavioral Analysis Unit.”
“What do you know? It wasn’t smoke and mirrors. You did get them down here.” Conklin’s facial expression soured as he looked at the man without an earpiece. We were all looking at him.
Marsh stepped in. “This is Sergeant Lucas Ramirez.”
Ramirez held out his hand to Jack. He didn’t reach for it, and the sergeant squirmed.
“And I’m Walter Conklin, the mayor of Miami.” He didn’t bother with formalities, likely seeing how well that had worked for the sergeant.
“I could tell right away that you are the one in charge here,” Conklin added, as if trying to smooth over his earlier brashness.
“What matters is finding Jenna,” Jack said, unmoved.
“See?” Conklin’s face lit up, and he pointed at Jack as he looked at Ramirez. “That’s what I’m talking about—a man who takes action.” Turning back to Jack, he said, “Now, who is the man who answered my niece’s phone?”
“As I said, we’re working on tracking him down.” Jack remained firm.
“You’re all doing that while sitting around here?” Conklin’s gaze went to the table and an open box of donuts.
“Have one if you’d like,” Jack offered calmly.
“No thanks.” Conklin patted his flat stomach. “Are you close to catching him? To getting Jenna back?”
“Are you close to your niece?” Jack asked him, completely sidestepping the mayor’s questions.
Conklin hesitated, then said, “Sure. She is family. But I’m not sure why my relationship with her matters right now.”
“If you really care about her, you’ll leave and let us do our jobs.”
Score one for Jack.
Conklin straightened out his tie and stepped away from Jack.
“Mayor Conklin, let’s go talk in my office.” Sergeant Ramirez walked over to the mayor.
Conklin held his ground, chest heaving. His eyes were fixed on Jack. “I appreciate you being here and doing all you can.” Conklin made the comment through clenched teeth and then let Ramirez guide him out of the room.
Jack closed the door behind them and spun, fixing his gaze directly on Marsh. “I see that Ramirez and the mayor are tight.”
“Don’t get me started,” Marsh snarled. “But if you’re thinking he’s how the mayor found out about the call, I’m sure you’re right.”