Page 45 of Unknown

Cora stared at Gabe, seeing her own incredulity and disappointment reflected in his eyes.

"Where the hell is he? Seems like he packed up and moved?" Gabe said.

"And recently," Cora agreed. All the evidence pointed to this being a very deliberate strategy. She felt furious that she'd missed him by such a narrow margin.

"Very convenient," Gabe said, his voice hard. He might be an easygoing guy most of the time, but Cora knew that when you got on Gabe's wrong side, you'd live to regret it.

And that was what the killer had done. She could see that Gabe was now hell-bent on catching him, and furious that he'd made such a stealthy move.

"Okay, we need to get on the hunt. Now," Cora said, forcing herself to regroup mentally, even though this was a major setback. She'd been relying on the address details to be correct, and at this critical moment, it left them helpless.

Upton wasn't here, he wasn't coming back, and he'd clearly thought through these killings more carefully than she'd guessed. It was no coincidence that this house had been abandoned likely at the same time the murders had started.

It cemented in her mind that this was the guy they were hunting. Smart, elusive, and determined to continue with his spree. He was ducking and diving to keep ahead of whoever was looking for him. Perhaps he'd thought the Army might come searching, if they worked it out.

But now, they were on his trail. And she knew they couldn't wait any longer. They had to act fast, before he could claim another victim.

"We need a phone number for him," she said. "Do we have a phone number?"

"There was one listed on his record," Gabe said dubiously. "It was quite an old one, though. From a few years ago. I had my doubts if it would still be valid, which is why I was glad we could come here to his front door." Frowning, he looked through his own phone to find it.

She didn't want to have to call on her FBI contacts again, but now she had no choice.

Standing right there, out in the wind, she called her former partner at the FBI, Saul Brady. She knew that right now, he was her best contact, and also the one who was most closely involved with the records and phone GPS tracking.

Cora hated doing this. She felt as if she was racking up favors that she could never repay. She had to remind herself, as she listened to the call connect, that the FBI were also supportive of any crime fighting initiatives, and that they wanted serial killers off the streets just as badly as anyone.

So she was helping them, even though it didn't feel like it.

"Cora?" he said, picking up within a couple of rings.

"I need a favor," she said. She wasn’t going to say his name out loud. They both knew that these interactions were best kept confidential. But she could hear, from the faint trill of phones in the background, that he was in the office. Hopefully alone, or with trusted colleagues.

"What do you need?" Brady asked.

"I need updated phone number details for a man called Boris Upton. And if possible, a track on the phone."

"I can look up those for you, and I can see what we can do about the tracking," he said. "It might not be possible immediately. Systems are being updated. We've got a wait of a couple of hours before we can get back online."

"Let me know when the systems are up, please. I'll give you the last known number, and the last known address."

Trying not to let Brady hear the disappointment in her voice, she read out the number and the address where he no longer was, thanked him again, and hung up. She knew he'd get back to her as soon as he could, but she also knew that might take a while and she needed to be prepared that it might not come through at all.

Tracking his phone was going to be the only possible way of finding him - but the delays were frustrating everyone involved, and there was no way of hurrying up the systems.

No way of finding him now, unless the neighbors knew more.

"Let's give it a try," she said aloud, glancing at the house on the right. It didn't look occupied, but nothing in this town did, and clearly some people were living here.

The house on the left was definitely not occupied. That one had such a tangle of weeds growing across the front door that she doubted anyone could get inside it. It hadn't had anyone open that door for months, maybe years.

However, the other neighbor's door was at least clear. Whether they were inside, though, she didn't know.

“That one?” she asked Gabe.

“I reckon someone’s there,” he said.

She strode down the road with him, veered across the tattered front yard, and knocked firmly on the neighbor's door.

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