THIRTY-FOUR
After an update from Ron about the attack at the school, Solomon asked Grace to put him in touch with the SAC in Detroit. He wanted to let him know what happened to Alex and that he was recovering.
A few minutes later, his phone rang and he picked it up. “I have Special Agent in Charge Paul Gladstone for you.”
“Thanks, Grace,” he said. “Put him through.”
Solomon heard a click. “Paul?” he said.
“Yes. What can I do for you, Solomon?”
“I’m calling about Alex Cartwright. As I’m sure you know, he used to work with us. Not sure if he told you he was coming here during his leave of absence. You’ve probably heard we’re trying to take down a serial here?”
All Solomon heard was silence. “Did you hear me, Paul?” Had he lost the connection?
“Yes, I can hear you,” Gladstone said finally. “Of course we know about the case you’re working. Everyone does. I’m just a little concerned about Alex. Great agent, but the past month or so he seemed to lose concentration. It’s like he was somewhere else. Then he requested leave but wouldn’t tell me why. Said it was personal. We tried to get him to stay, but he had made up his mind. Something happened, Solomon. Whatever it was took him back to St. Louis. Can you tell me why you felt the need to call me?”
Solomon explained what had happened at the playground—the Reader’s Digest version. “He’s recuperating nicely. The doctors say he’ll be fine.”
“I’m happy to hear that, but I think you need to keep a close watch on him, Solomon.”
“What do you mean? Do you think we need to be worried about him?”
A deep sigh came over the phone. “I don’t know. Frankly, I wish you’d talk to him. Maybe you’ll get more out of him than I could. You had a good relationship with him, right?”
“Yeah, we did. I’ll see what I can do.”
“I really hate to see him throw away a stellar career.” Gladstone cleared his throat. “He shouldn’t be getting into your case without my permission, you know.”
“I know that. I don’t think he meant to. I’m thinking this experience will force him to sit back and take it easy for a while.”
“Well, let’s hope so. He’s walking a dangerously thin line. I’d appreciate it if you could keep me updated.”
Solomon promised to keep in touch, then thanked him and hung up. Was there something going on with Alex? Should they be worried? He was determined to uncover the truth. He picked up the phone and called Grace.
“I’m going to the hospital,” he told her. “I’ll be gone for an hour or two.”
“Sure, boss,” she said.
Solomon grabbed his coat and car keys and headed out of the office. He and Alex had been close, and Solomon was convinced he could find out what was really going on.
Noah was doing his own research about the Tylenol case when Detective Bridges walked up to his desk. He looked up. “Yes, Peter?”
“You asked me to follow up on a Dr. Richard Barton?”
Noah had forgotten about Kaely’s friend. He didn’t suspect him of anything, but he wanted to be thorough. Make sure there wasn’t anything there to be concerned about.
“Yeah, I remember now. What did you find?”
“As Agent Quinn said, he was in Des Moines during the first murder. I asked someone from the PD there to check with his neighbors. . . .”
“Neighbors? I don’t understand. I believe he lives here.”
“Yes, he does, but he has a house there too. His next-door neighbor said he plans to move back to Des Moines someday.”
“Probably when he feels Kaely doesn’t need him anymore,” Noah said, more to himself than to Bridges.
“Well, anyway, he was there. The neighbor talked to him. She said his car was in and out of the driveway until the day he flew back to St. Louis. I think you can cross him off your list.”
“I didn’t really suspect him,” Noah said. “I just felt it was smart to check out anyone Kaely is close to.”
Bridges handed him the report. “I also found Marvin Chambers. He’s not our UNSUB. He’s been in the hospital for a week now. Cancer.”
“So there goes another possibility,” Noah said. “At least we don’t have to spend any more time on him.”
“What do you want me on now?”
“Why don’t you see if Jeff needs help finding Jason Oliphant? I’d really like to know if we can rule him out as well.”
“Or know if he’s our UNSUB?”
“Yeah. I hope for Kaely’s sake it’s not him. That would be hard to take. A serial killer for a father . . .”
“And a brother who follows in his father’s footsteps?”
“Exactly.”
“Thanks, Peter.”
Noah sat back in his chair and gazed around the busy room filled with the click click click of fingers on computer keyboards or voices talking on the phone. What did they have? Was the UNSUB really planning to carry out mass poisonings? It would be harder to pull off now, but not impossible. Noah remembered hearing about a case where someone threatened to put cyanide in the beer at a pub where FBI agents regularly hung out. Since they were all eating at the CP and he picked different restaurants every time, he doubted this was the plan. There was no way for the UNSUB to guess what place he’d order from next.
His mind drifted back to the Tylenol case. The killer actually removed containers of Tylenol from the stores, took them home, added poison, and then took them back and put them on the shelf. The first victim was a twelve-year-old girl. She was home from school, sick, and her mother gave her Tylenol, just like any concerned parent might do.
Noah ran his hand through his hair. Twelve years old. How could someone do something so heinous? Of course, he’d seen the evil humans do to each other, but it still shocked him. Maybe the day things like this didn’t bother him anymore would be the day he would need to get a different job.
“Noah?”
He jumped when someone called his name. He turned around to find Reinhardt standing next to his desk.
“The write-up is ready. Just wanted to look up a few things, make sure I had it right.”
“Thanks, Don.” He shook his head. “Boy, I hope we’re wrong about this.”
“I don’t see how we could stop it, Noah, with all the different stores and different kinds of groceries or medicines.”
“I know.” Noah sighed and stood up. “At this point all we can do is our best.”
“Sometimes our best isn’t good enough.”
“We need to pray that this time it is.”
Reinhardt didn’t say anything, but his expression mirrored the uncertainty in Noah’s mind. It seemed this case was going to get much, much worse before it got better.
When the guy from the mail room dropped off the late mail on Jerry’s desk, he immediately noticed the box with the same block-style letters. Jerry grabbed it and turned around in his chair to see if Banner was still in his office. He was just sitting at his desk. Didn’t look too busy. Jerry thought about opening the box himself, but at the last second he decided to let Banner do it. Give his editor a thrill. It should only make him value Jerry more.
First he took a picture of the writing on the box with his phone. Then he pulled a pair of the latex gloves he’d just bought from his desk drawer, picked up the box, and walked over to Banner’s office door. When he knocked, Banner looked up and motioned for him to come in.
“We’ve got another one, boss.”
Banner’s sour expression disappeared. He almost looked happy. Almost. “What is it?” he asked.
“I thought you might like to open it.” He held out the pair of gloves to his boss.
“Thanks, Jerry.”
Banner took the gloves and slid them on. Ever since the Journal started writing about The Elephant and posting the missives he sent them, their subscriptions had tripled. Life was good for Jerry and Banner.
“Is there a way I should do this?” Banner asked. “I don’t want to destroy evidence.”
Jerry could have told him that the best thing would be for them to call the FBI and let them open it, but they might not tell them what was inside. And they couldn’t risk that.
“Just don’t destroy any writing,” Jerry said as if he were an expert on the subject.
Banner smiled and nodded. He picked up a letter opener and cut through the mailing tape that held the box shut. Then he carefully pulled it off and slowly opened the lid.
The blast blew out the windows in Banner’s office and knocked staff out of their chairs in the outer room.
Banner and Jerry would end up being the Journal’s next headline.
But they’d never know it.