21

Tim Austin was sorting the mail for the different offices and employees at the Kansas City Journal when he came across an envelope mailed locally and addressed to the editor in chief. The block letters and the lack of a return address got his attention. Had the Train Man written again? He yelled at a coworker, telling her he had to leave for a few minutes, then he hurried upstairs to the editor’s office. When he reached the secretary, he handed her the envelope. She took it, thanked him, and called her boss, Peter Gardner.

Tim left before Gardner came out of his office. As he walked toward the elevator, he looked down at his hands. He’d heard the whispers between the various reporters, wondering how the Train Man planned to kill so many people. Several had mentioned superbugs and viruses that could do the job. The country wasn’t ready for another plague. It was too much to ask of anyone. He prayed quietly that the Train Man would be stopped before something horrible happened.

When the elevator door opened, Tim turned away and hurried to the bathroom, where he washed his hands until they were red.

Alex and Logan met Keith at the airport at 8:00 a.m. with time to turn in their rental car. Logan was exhausted. He and Alex had worked until they were satisfied with their assessment. They’d sent it to Harrison around two in the morning. Logan should have felt relieved, but he’d noticed that something was still wrong with Alex despite her claim that she felt better after unburdening herself. She worked hard, but it seemed like part of her was somewhere else. They were both short on sleep, of course, but what he’d seen was more than fatigue. It was as if she had a war going on in her mind. She seemed tense, not herself. Was she sorry she’d shared her pain with him? Would things be okay between them?

Alex had a stellar reputation. As young as she was, she was almost a legend in the FBI. Her coworkers in Kansas City said she had the ability to see things no one else did. Like the way she determined how tall Walker was by the position of the messages he wrote on the boxcars, and that he was left-handed. Logan was looking more at his MO, his motivation, his signature. All important aspects, but Alex’s kind of input was helpful when they needed to narrow possibilities.

Once they were on the plane, though, he was pleased to see her relax and focus on their case, wanting to go over it again to make sure they hadn’t missed anything.

“You’re kind of quiet this morning,” Alex said. “Anything wrong?”

Logan shook his head. “Just tired. Why aren’t you dragging? We didn’t get much sleep.”

Alex laughed. “The answer, my friend, is coffee, coffee, coffee.”

“I think I’m coffeed out. Is that a word?”

“Coffeed? I doubt it, but I understand what you mean. I guess that makes it okay.”

Logan smiled. Today she wore black pants and a matching jacket with a soft aqua blouse underneath. Her hair was pulled back and secured with a black band with silver beads. It was simple but strangely feminine. She was the epitome of professionalism, yet nothing could distract from her natural beauty. Yes, she was beautiful.

Logan leaned back into his seat and closed his eyes. It took around twenty minutes to fly from Wichita to Kansas City once they were in the air. Not enough time for a real nap, but at least he could rest his eyes. When Alex put her hand on his arm and said, “We’re here,” he felt like only seconds had passed. He must have fallen asleep after all.

The cockpit door opened, and Keith came out. “Good luck with whatever you’re working on,” he said. “I’m praying for you guys.”

“I appreciate that, Keith,” Logan told him, extending his hand so Keith could shake it. He and Keith had been friends for a while. Logan hadn’t known he was a Christian until he saw him at a local prayer breakfast. It was nice to have a brother in the Bureau. Keith and his wife, Donita, had recently started coming to Logan’s church. They were a fantastic couple and a blessing to know.

He and Alex said good-bye to Keith and hurried off the plane. An agent was waiting for them, and it didn’t take long to reach the CP. When they came in the back door, the quiet outside was shattered by the buzz of conversation and clicking of computer keyboards and printers. Harrison stood near a large dry-erase board. Next to it was an even larger corkboard almost filled with photos and papers speared by colored pins. He turned around and saw them.

“Glad you’re back. We got your assessment, and I’d like to go over it with you. Let’s go in the back room.”

Logan and Alex followed him to the meeting room. A few people were gathered around the table, working. They appeared to be searching through papers. Logan had spent many hours doing the same thing on missions. Medical records, dental records, school records, property records . . . whatever it took to understand an UNSUB. It was one of the most thankless jobs an agent could be assigned, yet more than once information had been uncovered that helped field agents find their suspect. Even though this time they knew their subject’s identity, they would still need to meticulously pore through everything they could in an attempt to locate him.

Logan and Alex took seats at one end of the table, away from the agents working through the files.

Rather than sitting down with them, Harrison made a call, asking someone to join them in the back room. After he hung up, he sat down. “Alex, we’ve called in your replacement in Kansas City, Karen Harper. She’ll be coordinating the team investigating the murders. I’m keeping her updated on your progress since we believe the Train Man is the person in possession of the virus.”

The door opened, and Karen walked in. She was short and stocky. Logan had heard she was a bulldog when it came to her job as the NCAVC Coordinator in Kansas City. Alex had mentioned how relieved she’d been when Karen was assigned. Alex was confident she would do a great job.

Karen sat down next to Alex. “So you’re convinced our UNSUB is Adam Walker?” she asked. No time spent greeting her fellow agents. Right to work.

“Yes,” Alex said. “Everything we’ve seen points to him. We’re sure he has the virus, and he’s identified himself as the Train Man. The only thing we’re unsure about is if he’s working with someone else.”

“As I’m sure you know,” Logan said, “most serial killers work alone. That’s brought some confusion to this situation. We’re not sure how the two cases fit together.”

“Wichita tells me a circle was drawn with blood on a wall inside the house,” Karen said to Alex. “With your name in the middle. Do we need to provide you protection?”

“No. I believe that was done by someone who is connected to the Circle—and knows I’m with the FBI—just so I would back off. It seems likely they knew I took Willow’s copy of The Book. But they thrive on secrecy, and even though they might have killed my aunt and her caregiver, harming someone in law enforcement would certainly increase the chances of bringing them out of the shadows.” She smiled. “Besides, I’m capable of taking care of myself.”

“Why do you think they knew you had The Book?” Karen asked.

“The more I think about it, the more I believe the Circle was watching Willow’s house regularly because they wanted her copy of The Book after she had her stroke and stopped hosting Circle meetings. Nettie wasn’t cooperating with them, and then they saw me take away the bag from the house and suspected I had it.”

“If the attacker was someone from the Circle, the only thing that makes sense is that he knew The Book wasn’t there,” Logan added. “Nothing was disturbed. Not a drawer, not a closet.” He paused. “Unless the attacker didn’t care about The Book.”

“Couldn’t he have just tried to make it look as if the Circle was involved?”

Alex shrugged. “Maybe. But the Circle is so secretive, there’s very little chance someone who’s never been a part of it would know enough to draw that symbol above my . . .” Alex stumbled for a moment. Logan realized she’d started to say my bed. “Above the bed,” she finished. “I realize it sounds as if we’re speculating, but I understand the Circle better than anyone who isn’t actually a member. The point is, my experience tells me that Adam Walker is the Train Man and that he has the virus. I believe someone else killed my aunt and Nettie Travers. Somehow it’s all related. I think we have to keep looking at the Circle when it comes to these murders in Wichita.”

“I’m still concerned about your safety,” Harrison said. His eyes narrowed. “I want you to stay at the command post as much as possible. Anytime you leave, I want to know.”

“I’m with her almost constantly,” Logan said. “We’ll be careful.”

“See that you are.” Harrison crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair. Logan could see the weariness in his face. “Before Nettie Travers died she tried to tell you someone she knew was in the hospital. Tell us more about that.”

“First,” Alex said, “she recognized Jimmy in the sketch I made of a man I saw when my aunt had a Circle meeting at her house. I was probably around thirteen by then, maybe fourteen. And as you know, sir, Jimmy showed up at our hotel in Wichita yesterday. He admitted he was at the hospital, even inside Willow’s house after the police had gone. He says he was part of the Circle once, but that he didn’t hurt either woman. He was just trying to protect them. Now he wants to help us find whoever killed them. We think he’s on the level. And since he said he’d nose around and let us know if he learned anything new, we let him go for the time being. He’s willing to be questioned further, though, and we know where to find him.”

She paused. “Second, Nettie said he was there, but I don’t think she meant Gedrose. I believe she recognized someone else at the hospital, but she died before she could reveal a name. The doctor told us she should have recovered, so she may have been killed somehow. We’re waiting to see the autopsy report.”

“We suggest you bring in Jimmy Gedrose and talk to him as soon as possible,” Logan said. “We think he might be able to help us, and if he’s on the level, he may need WITSEC.”

“We’ve already talked to him, as has Chief Rogers,” Harrison said. “We’re bringing him in, and I’ve alerted the U.S. Marshals. They believe he would definitely qualify for the Witness Security Program.”

“Good,” Alex said. “He can at least shed more light on what it’s like to be inside the Circle.”

Harrison reached for a pile of papers and pulled off the top one. “I agree with you about the murders of those women. I doubt it was Walker. And not only because the timeline doesn’t fit. Seems he’s been busy sending another letter to the Kansas City Journal, telling them where we could find sacrifice number five. Thankfully, the paper contacted us and promised not to print the letter . . . for now.”

“I wish they hadn’t printed the first one,” Logan said.

Harrison shrugged. “I guess they thought it would interest the public. At least they’re willing to work with us this time. We impressed on them how dangerous printing this letter could be. We don’t need this guy glorified, and we also don’t want him to know what we know.” Harrison sighed. “He’s trying to be more creative. He knows we’re watching the trains closely. Frankly, if he stuck with the trains, we’d be more likely to catch him. Now we have no idea where he could be. We can’t even find the car registered to him. I’m hoping this letter will tell you something I’m not seeing.”

“When was it mailed?” Alex asked.

“I know why you’re asking. The postmark indicates he was somewhere near Kansas City when your aunt was killed in Wichita.”

“That settles it for me, then. I don’t think he killed Willow or Nettie. In fact, I’m confident of that. The timeline doesn’t work with the first letter from him, and the MO between the murders here and the murders in Wichita doesn’t match.”

Logan took the copy of the letter Harrison handed him and began to read it out loud.

“‘The Master has judged the world and found it wanting. The fifth sacrifice has been offered. The worldly, blind police still haven’t found him. Here is your clue. This is the only help I’ll give you.

‘I’ve sadly benched our number five. Too late to find our friend alive. Instead, I’ve staged a great grand hunt. Don’t rail against my latest stunt.

‘The last sacrifice is already being prepared. It is time for the Virgin to be offered. When this happens, the demons will set the earth on fire. The angels will fight for mankind, but they will lose. The world will know the Master is God. It is the will of the Master, and I delight in serving him. Do not make the mistake of thinking you can understand the plague I will visit upon the earth. You cannot. It is stronger and more dangerous than you can comprehend. We have created something so powerful there is no cure for it. And as you die, I will laugh. LONG LIVE THE MASTER!

‘You should close your eyes, pretend to sleep, and very softly pray,

or else the evil Train Man may carry you away.

‘The Train Man.’”

“I hate that poem,” Logan said. His throat felt tight, and he had to clear it. “So what does this clue mean?”

“It’s Union Station,” Alex said.

“How do you get that?” Logan asked, surprised.

“The words,” she said, looking at Logan as if he were simple. “Grand refers to the Grand Hall. Hunt is the Jarvis Hunt Room. Of course, rail—”

“I get it,” Harrison said. “And stage is probably the City Stage Theatre.”

Alex nodded. “I think our victim is sitting on a bench somewhere near or on the stage.”

Harrison stood and hurried across the room to where a group of detectives from the KCPD had gathered in front of a large map of the trains that ran through their target area. Karen stood and followed him. After the two spoke to them, the detectives grabbed their coats and hurried out the back door, obviously headed for Union Station. One of them already had his phone up to his ear.

“Did you notice this letter says the virus has no cure?” Alex asked Logan.

He nodded. “What does that mean?”

Harrison returned to the room. “We should find our victim soon,” he said. “Karen is staying here so she can coordinate the search.”

“We were just talking about this part of the letter,” Logan said. “‘We have created something so powerful there is no cure for it.’ He said we. Do you think he’s talking about the chemist in Ethiopia?”

“Seems likely, but here’s a new twist to the story. A few hours ago local authorities in Addis Ababa found Martin Kirabo dead. They think he’s been murdered.”