Page 51 of Every Last One
Neal huffed in frustration. “Right, so assuming she’s not some criminal mastermind who has skirted the law all this time, what makes a thirty-seven-year-old, who has been a law-abiding citizen all these years, take these drastic measures?”
His question was clearly rhetorical, but for one generalized thing. “Whatever she hopes to accomplish with this move today, it means more to her than her freedom.”
“Same could well apply to the rest,” Neal said. “If we can find out how they are connected and how they communicate, we might get our motive along with their identities.”
Something occurred to Sandra while Neal was speaking. “Maybe it’s not exactly one inciting incident, but an experience they all share? Something that hit close to home on a personal and emotional level could explain such a severe response. The last time I spoke to Mickey he made it clear he was a grown-ass man, making his own decisions.”
“It’s entirely possible,” Neal said. “But we need more than that. I’ll get Detective Birch to Feeney’s house with a search warrant the second he’s finished up with Radcliffe and Celeste. We need access to Feeney’s call history in case Feeney spoke with her cohorts. Are we sure she’s the only one who matches vehicle registrations?” He leveled this question at Gibson.
“Hers was the last one I had to run,” Gibson said.
“And we’ve finished with ours,” Brice said, after glancing at Monica’s workstation.
“I’ll get on her phone records, requesting a fast turnaround,” Gibson said.
Neal nodded. “That would be great.”
“I’ll need Feeney’s number, Gibson.” When Sandra tried the nurses’ station on the second floor, Feeney never answered. Receiving a call on her personal cell phone might make her more likely to pick up.
“Yes, ma’am.” He tapped on the keyboard for a few seconds, then rattled it off while she grabbed a pen and notepad and scribbled it down.
“I’m going to give it a try,” she announced, and everyone got ready to listen in.
The call was sent to voicemail after the second ring. Feeney had rejected it. Undeterred, Sandra tried again. This time, the call was answered, but Feeney didn’t say a word.
“Carmen, this is Sandra with the FBI.”
There were a few moments of silence, followed by a tentative, “FBI?”
“Yes, and I want to help you.”
“How do you know my name?”
Sandra took some victory in having one of their hostage takers identified. It was certainly a move in the right direction. “We have our ways of finding things out, Carmen. What we can’t wrap our minds around is what brought you here today. Could you tell us?”
Silence.
“Maybe what brought your friends here?”
There was a pause before she responded. “We’re in this together.”
“In this together with whom, Carmen?”
She ended the call.
Sandra tried her back but went straight to voicemail. “She’s turned her phone off.”
“‘In this together.’ Clearly, they have a shared goal, but I didn’t get the feeling Carmen’s friends with these people,” Brice said. “So now we’re left trying to figure out what brought these people together.”
“And we will. It’s just a matter of time.”And we’re closer than we’ve ever been…That’s how Sandra had to think anyhow.
TWENTY-SEVEN
2:25 PM
Gail’s patience was running out, and her nerves were beyond frayed. There had been another gunshot down the hall not long ago. At least there were no screams. It sounded like the bullet had struck something, notsomeone,at least. But why was it taking the cops so long to come in here and rescue them? As time continued to pass, her hope was draining away. Not so much for her welfare, but her sweet baby girl. Would she get the surgery she needed? Gail wasn’t under any illusions they’d hold the heart for her daughter beyond tonight.
Phoebe looked so small lying on the bed. It was like she was shrinking before Gail’s eyes. The heart monitor showed a slightly erratic rhythm, but it was familiar. That still did little to settle Gail’s nerves. And Nurse Torres had retreated inward after talking to the feds. Maybe even before that, she had been on edge.
