Page 145 of Nowhere to Hide
Diaz followed. “I’m not getting left out of it this time.”
When the door shut, I handed him a folder. “I’m not sure the feds will take my info, so I came to you.”
“What info?” They both asked in unison.
Stone flipped open the folder. I’d given him everything including the physical tracker. We had the details already, but if this guy had killed in more states maybe it could help the feds close cases.
“We just found it on my boat. There were two trackers. One was put into Cilla’s suitcase. That one was a simple AirTag. Not much to go on there since they’re available everywhere.”
I filled them in on the explosion on my boat as well as the tracker details. I was covering all my bases when it came to finding this guy. Every channel that was any use to me.
There wouldn’t be a trial.
This monster was getting put down one way or another.
“Why didn’t you tell me this earlier?”
“I was a little more worried about keeping Cilla safe.”
“The feds have taken over. You can’t be involved anymore.”
“Officially, that’s correct. Cilla would hate that there might be other victims out there. I hope the tracker might be a lead for the feds.”
“What are you doing?” Stone handed the folder to Diaz.
“It’s better that you don’t know.”
“Jordan, you can’t get involved.”
“Thanks for what you did to help her.” I opened the door and strode out.
Diaz followed me. “I can arrest you for interference.”
I kept walking. It was an empty threat. They might have their hands tied by the law, but I didn’t.
I hopped into the SUV I’d borrowed. Instead of heading back to the tower, I went to the wharf. I needed to see the scene one more time. It lived in my head, but my own distortion of emotions was definitely getting in the way.
In the daytime, the wharf was so much different. The sun was high in the sky and the dock’s weather-beaten planks were innocuous instead of foreboding. Foot traffic was heavy thanks to the ferry schedule and the end-of-summer vacationers taking a stroll through Salem.
It wasn’t exactly a summer destination, but a quick half-day trip from Boston brought enough people in.
I retraced the path she likely took that night. My muscles tensed as I envisioned how scared she’d been. In full fight-or-flight, she’d chosen to run.
There were plenty of places for him to hide and pick out his prey.
I shielded my eyes and peered up at the rooftop bar of the hotel. Had he scoped her out there?
Or just found her because she had been alone?
Had he chosen her because of how she looked or just because she was available prey.
I raked my fingers through my hair and pulled at the short strands.
I turned to head back to the parking lot and spotted something shiny near the dry-docked boat. A flash of that night hit me. Where her purse had been found.
In the same spot there was something stuck in between the planks. Almost the exact same canister, but instead of Mace it looked like a case that might hold lipstick or Chapstick.
I picked it up. It had a magnetic clasp. Inside was a blood spattered piece of paper.
