Daryl corrected her. “They were shot at the same time, but both didn’t die right away. It took him several minutes longer.” He pointed to the brighter one.
“Nasty,” she said with a noticeable lack of emotion.
Daryl asked, “How will they get rid of the bodies?”
“Fish food, if I had to guess,” Caitlin answered with her mouth full of turkey and provolone.
Daryl concurred. “Cliché, but effective.”
Bob Stenson briskly entered Caitlin’s office. “How is our nurse doing?”
“Alive and well, thanks to the baseball fans.”
“Where are they now?”
“Disposing of the bodies.”
Satisfied, Stenson nodded. That was all he needed to hear. “I want you both to put all your focus back on the echo box. Homeland has no idea where either Drummond or Parks is. For all we know, they’ve left the city.”
“Only if they’re together,” said Daryl. He was thinking strategically. “The doctor wouldn’t leave without her patient unless she was forced to.”
Caitlin nodded in agreement. She was thinking emotionally. “She’d turn herself in before leaving him alone on the streets this long.”
Stenson spoke definitively. “She has not turned herself in.”
Daryl spoke quickly as his mouth tried to keep up with his brain. “The only conclusion is that they are together. The question is, did they leave the city, or are they hiding?”
Caitlin jumped in. “She has few other close relationships with people in the city.”
Daryl blinked rapidly as he factored in the additional data. “Edward’s behavior is unpredictable, and might draw unwanted attention. Her goal will be to get him out of the city, probably somewhere nice and quiet.”
Caitlin turned to Daryl. “Where?”
Daryl paused, his biological supercomputer running through an awesome number of calculations per second. He didn’t like his answer. “I don’t know.”
Stenson made sure to look genuinely surprised. “That’s disheartening.”
“Let me give it some more thought.” Trotter left the office quickly.
Stenson glanced at Caitlin, who couldn’t stop herself from smirking. Human beings, even the smartest of them, were very easy creatures to manipulate if you knew which buttons to push.
CHAPTER 79
Dr. Marcus Fenton’s House, Pine Hill, New Jersey, May 27, 9:35 p.m.
Butler McHenry sat in his car, which was parked in front of Marcus Fenton’s farmhouse. He had clearly been there for quite a while by the time the veteran doctor arrived home. Fenton seemed genuinely surprised to find that he had a visitor. “Can I help you?”
“Dr. Fenton, I’m Detective Butler McHenry with the New York City Police.” Butler watched the older man closely.
Fenton didn’t bat an eye. “Good evening, Detective. You’re a long way from the city. What brings you all the way out here?”
Butler said pleasantly, “I’d like to ask you a few questions, if that would be all right.”
“About what?” Fenton smiled innocently.
“I’d prefer we talk at the station.” It was, of course, a bluff. A big one. But he wanted the doctor on McHenry turf, not Fenton turf.
“You must be joking.”
“Not even slightly.” The hint of a smile crept into his face as he saw the frustration build in Fenton. The trip here was now officially worth it, even if the doctor called his bluff.
“And if I decline?” The contempt in Fenton’s voice couldn’t hide his anxiety.
McHenry knew he had him. “I’ll return with a warrant.”
Fenton’s face filled with rage. “You son of a bitch.”
Butler opened the rear door of his car and patted the roof as the doctor moved to get in. “Watch your head. I wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself.”
CHAPTER 80
New York Office, Department of Homeland Security, May 27, 9:37 p.m.
Max Garber stared at the blinking yellow dot on his screen as it started to move. The dot was the location of Detective Butler McHenry—or, more specifically, his phone. The detective was now retracing the route he had taken to the Pine Hill residence, which meant McHenry was returning to New York. What Garber had no way of knowing was whether he was returning to New York alone or with Dr. Fenton.
A simple Google search had revealed that Fenton was the founder and director of Harmony House, which was a government-funded facility in Woodbury. It seemed to be some kind of psychiatric hospital where Edward Parks was a patient, and where Dr. Skylar Drummond had started working less than two weeks ago. Garber, a closet gumshoe, wondered how a doctor and a psychiatric patient could have come into possession of classified technology. It was curious.
Detective McHenry was one of the lead investigators in the recent gas attack in the subway, which meant there was a connection between the fugitives and the attack.
But what?
He called Agent Raines to relate that Detective McHenry was returning from New Jersey. Raines responded that he didn’t care about the detective at the moment. Until the fugitives were in custody, they were to be Max’s one and only priority.
Max stood up, asking his ever-growing team of analysts keeping real-time watch over the city if anyone had anything worth relating. There was no response, other than shaking heads. Nobody dared to bring up any more low-probability catches. Nothing under 70 percent would be mentioned. Max spoke into the phone to his superior. “Sir, if they were still in the city, we’d have seen something by now.”
“I’m inclined to agree.” Agent Raines’s voice was reassuring. He seemed to want Garber to know that he still had complete confidence in him. “Focus your people’s attention on the subways, particularly the major stations. Get their images out there wide.”
Max smiled, because he had already done so. Every street cop and transit-authority officer had already received high-resolution images of the two fugitives.
CHAPTER 81
Secaucus Junction, Secaucus, New Jersey, May 27, 9:41 p.m.
Eddie had never been on a train. Given the number of firsts he had already experienced in the last ten hours, Skylar was reluctant to introduce him to another. But there they were, parked outside of Secaucus Junction, trying to prepare Eddie for his first train ride. He was tired, both physically and emotionally, but managed to keep his growing sense of panic at bay by memorizing a printed train schedule.
He was hungry. Night had fallen, and he should have eaten dinner four hours ago. Saturday was fish-stick night at Harmony House, and it was among the most consistent meals offered by the institution. While Eddie had never given any serving of fish sticks the prestigious rating of five, he had also never given one a score lower than three, and it was the only Harmony House entrée to hold that distinction. Fish sticks were consistently a three or a four, and consistency was what Eddie craved now more than ever.
“How much longer do we have to wait?” he asked Skylar as they waited for Kreitenberg inside his car, which was parked in a handicapped space near the station’s main entrance. The bird-shop owner had a ninety-three-year-old mother he occasionally drove to doctor appointments, and that gave him the legal right to possess the handicapped placard now dangling from the rearview mirror.
“As long as it takes Rupert to buy us the train tickets to Philadelphia.”
“Does it always take this long to buy train tickets?”
“It depends how many people are in line, and how many tellers are open.” The slightest hint of concern crept into her voice. Rupert was taking longer than expected.
“Does everyone who rides on a train need someone else to buy their tickets?”
“Only people who are playing tag like we are.”
“Because they don’t want anyone to say, ‘Tag, you’re it’?”
“Exactly.” Skylar kept a close eye on their surroundings. The parking lot around them was dimly lit. There was a nonstop parade of cars pulling up, with people getting into or out of them quickly.
The only sign of the authorities was a vacant police car that had already been parked by the main entrance when they had arrived. It was this vehicle that had prompted Skylar to ask the bird-shop owner to buy their train tickets for them.