Dakota sat in the back of their vehicle, frowning at her phone, tensed all of a sudden.
“What is it?” Marcus asked, leaning in next to her. “Did he reply?”
She quickly read the heading of the bold email at the top of the inbox she'd set up. She stared, and then slapped her hand against the dusty dashboard. “Yes—he did! We got it!”
Marcus was lifting his phone up next to his lips where his hand had sagged over the last hour of waiting. Now, though, his voice was tinged with excitement. He said, “Did you hear that Bonet?”
Dakota shifted uncomfortably.
Agent Mark Bonet had been the techie assigned to help them trace Mr. Barrett's IP. She'd already gone on a couple of dates with Bonet, and had been exchanging texts with him over the last few weeks, but now she felt uncomfortable.
She couldn't quite say why. He'd never replied to her message earlier, though she now felt silly for picking at him over it. Still, the tone in Marcus's voice didn't match her own attitude.
She waited uncomfortably as Bonet said, “Loud and clear, Clement. I'm tracking him now. He's using a public Wi-Fi hotspot. Looks like... Yeah, I see him here. He's at a small, private college right now.”
Dakota perked up. “Which one?” she said.
Bonet replied, “Larem-Yount College. It's about twenty minutes from your location.”
Dakota frowned, hesitating now. She nibbled the corner of her lip, hesitating. “You're sure? It's him?”
Bonet said, “He logged into the email you provided. Pretty sure. Good call, by the way, Dakota.”
Marcus glanced over, nodding. “Yeah—nice one.”
Dakota shifted uncomfortably, nodding at the praise but keeping her expression neutral. “Thanks much,” she said stiffly.
Bonet said, “Jeez, looking at this guy, give him a couple of love-taps from me, won't you Marcus?”
Clement smiled congenially, laughing faintly, taking it as a joke. Dakota wasn't so sure Bonet meant it to be humorous.
“What do you mean?” she said slowly.
Bonet cleared his voice on the other line. He coughed. “I...” He trailed off, then quickly shifting gears, he said, “I just meant this guy's doing some high level shit...”
Dakota winced. She wished she knew how to better navigate these sorts of conversations. She hadn't meant to make Bonet uncomfortable. Bu the more time she spent with the agent, the more she felt... odd about the way he acted.
Not that she was much better, was she?
She could be cold, callous... blunt...
But that was the point, wasn't it? She didn't want to be around someone who only fanned into flame the worst parts of her personality. She needed someone... kinder than she was...
Or maybe she was overthinking it...
Or maybe you're just projecting your father's coldness onto Bonet...
This last thought made her wince. She could only hope this wasn't the case.
Marcus though, leaned in. “Hey, Bonet,” he said. “What do you mean by that?”
“Hmm?”
“High level? What do you mean?”
“Oh,” Mark said, his voice coming clear and crisp over the cellular connection. “Just that I minored in chemistry. A lot of this stuff is way over my head. I got a glance of the coroner's report. What came back from the lab was... impressive.”
“Impressive how?” Dakota said, trying to subdue her strong sense of guilt in favor of a new line of questioning.
“Oh... ummm... Just...” Bonet seemed flustered, but he quickly recovered. “Just that I didn't know many chemistry majors who could pull of creating these sorts of new, stable compounds... at least, not without killing themselves in the process... You know—he's still connected to that Wi-Fi hub. Nothing reported to campus security yet. I'm sending some locals over as well.”
“Thanks Bonet,” Agent Clement said. “Appreciate the help! We're on our way now.”
Marcus was already putting the car in gear. As he pulled away from the curb, moving hastily up the suburban street, the Arizona sunshine was slowly fading, receding against the horizon and retreating to night.
Dakota's fingers tapped in rhythm against the plastic arm rest, frowning through the window as Marcus picked up space, guiding them hastily in the direction of the small private college.
“Think he's already got his next victim?” Marcus murmured.
Dakota was frowning, hesitant. “I...” Something Agent Bonet said was now bothering her. “Do you think...” she trailed off, frowning. What if she'd made a mistake? What did he mean about the chemistry being too high-level. No major would be able to come up with those compounds...
Was she missing something?
“The second victim...” she said slowly. “She was... a grad student, right?”
Marcus shot her a sidelong look. “Yeah? So?”
“Did we... when we went through the list... the disciplinary list... The expulsions. Those were all from undergrad, weren't they?”
Marcus frowned as he picked up the pace, keeping within a few miles of the speed limit for now as he tapped a finger against the window GPS, allowing it to guide them to the private college.
Dakota, though, was now hastily returning to the list they'd compiled. She noted the Excel sheet did have information from grad programs, but it hadn't been included in the initial list. There were far, far fewer suspensions or expulsions in the collegiate grad courses.
The GPS was chirping now, and Marcus merged onto the highway.
Dakota, though, was studying the information on grad students closely, frowning as she did. A few of the expulsions had been academic in nature. One, for a private Christian college, had been a suspension for missing too many chapels. She removed female students, temporarily. It didn't quite fit the psych profile...
She was left with three names who still lived locally.
She scanned them one at a time. One of the suspects had been arrested for sexual assault. He was currently in prison. Another had been suspended for calling in a fake bomb threat. According to the attached arrest report, though, they hadn't determined any intent. Apparently he'd been drunk at the time and done it on a dare in front of a room full of frat boys.
The last name, though, caught her attention.
Tyler Moore. A grad-student with an internship at a local pharmaceutical lab... Mr. Moore had been accused of poisoning his teacher.
She stared at this last one. “Marcus...” she murmured.
“Only ten minutes left,” he replied.
“No,” she said quickly. “Not that. Look... wait—no, actually, keep your eyes on the road. But listen to this. Tyler Moore, a grad-student in his second year was expelled for slipping some type of homemade toxic concoction into his professor's morning coffee.”
“Excuse me?” Marcus shot her a look, his nose wrinkling.
She shook her head in disbelief, but said. “That was my reaction, but it looks like the police didn't have enough evidence to arrest him. He... yeah, he slowly slipped something into a professor's coffee. The professor in question says it was revenge over giving Mr. Moore a bad grade for missing class.”
Dakota tapped her fingers against the armrest, shaking her head uncomfortably.
Marcus was frowning through the windshield now, his hands tight on the steering wheel. “You having doubts about Mr. Barrett?”
Dakota huffed in frustration, shaking her head. “No, no... Just...” She shook her head. “Bonet's comments... What if we weren't looking at grad students, and...”
Marcus frowned at her again. “Where is Mr. Moore?”
Dakota shook her head. “He has a phone number, so we should be able to track him... Here, I'm calling Mark.”
She lifted her phone now, allowing the it to ring. After a few seconds, Agent Bonet answered. “Hey Dakota, everything alright?”
“Umm, yeah, fine Mark. Look, can I get a trace on a number?”
“Live number?”
“I can call it.”
“Sure, give me a second. Text me the info if you could.”
“Sure—here, one second.” Dakota's fingers flew across the screen now, and she heard the satisfied grunt of Mark as he received the information. “Right,” he said. “Give it a call, could you? Don't need him to pick up for this trick. But the call will expedite.”
Marcus and Dakota went silent as, slowly, she entered the number for Mr. Moore and pressed the small, green phone symbol.
And then they waited, tense. The phone rang a few times without connecting, and then went straight to voicemail. But the robotic message said, The number you are dialing has a voicemail box that is not set up yet. Please—
She hung up. “You got it?” she asked.
Agent Bonet was clicking his tongue now, but after a few moments, he said, “Yes... yes, pinged off the nearest tower... Mr. Moore is... about half an hour east of you. Near a suburb bordering the desert...” He paused then added, “Actually, he's only a few miles away from a pharmaceutical lab out in the desert.”
Dakota frowned. “Is he moving?”
“Looks like he's in a car,” replied Bonet. “Here, I'm sending you the address.”
Dakota felt her phone buzz, and quickly looked down, clicking the link. She followed it to a map and glanced up at the GPS. “Thanks Mark!” she called out. Then, as she hung up, she said, “Shit.”
“What?” Marcus shot back.
“Opposite direction... he's an hour from that college.”
Marcus was slowing now, glancing at Dakota. “So what's the call? We can send locals to meet up with one of them.”
Dakota hesitated, then shook her head. “No... no we can send cops to meet at both spots, but one of us needs to be there. I'm not trusting boots on the ground with this guy. If he's killed with chemicals, he's prepared to do it again.”
“Doesn't mean you have to put yourself in harm's way,” Marcus said firmly.
“No, but it's my job to try and stop him. Here... yeah... yeah quick, pull over! I'm going to ping highway patrol. They usually have someone every five miles or so.”
Marcus didn't comply right away. He was shaking his head, lips pursed. “Are you sure? What if—”
“No time, Clement!” she snapped. “Please, pull over.”
Marcus didn't retort, but instead let out a long sigh, pulling slowly onto the side of the road.
She added a quick, mumbled, “Sorry. Just... here, you head to the college, find Mr. Barrett and bring him in for questioning. I'll go speak with Tyler Moore.”
Before Marcus could protest, Dakota flung open the door, and spilled out onto the shoulder, stumbling towards the metal divider and hastily raising her phone, already having speed-dialed the highway patrol.
“Come on,” she murmured beneath her breath.
Clement was still frowning at her through his open window, his hazards flashing and illuminating the asphalt. The sun was dipping even lower in the sky.
“Go on!” she called, waving at her partner. “You need to be there, Clement. I trust you.”
He huffed in frustration, but then nodded once. With a final glance of concern through his window, he merged back onto the highway and began picking up speed again, his hazards still blinking hastily.
Dakota stood tense on the side of the road, leaning against a metal banister, frowning as she willed her phone to connect faster.
She'd have to get a ride and break every speed limit there was.
Was she second-guessing herself?
Or was she following her gut?
She huffed in frustration as she glanced at the horizon, watching the sun dip. And then, her phone connected, and she felt a prickle down her spine.
They were running out of time, and now Marcus and Dakota were heading in opposite directions.
“H-hello?” she said slowly, wincing against a sudden blare of a horn from the opposite side of the road. “This is Agent Dakota Steele, BAU. I need a ride. Yes, yes, I can verify. One second.”