“What do you mean?”

  “You seem to have settled into your new surroundings nicely. I think it’s time we took things to the next level.”

  The words send a shiver down her spine. Whatever they’re talking about, she doesn’t like it.

  “Until now, the line of visual communication has been one-way,” the voice adds. “I believe it’s time to change that.”

  Hannah is still trying to figure out what they’re talking about when the wall beside her seems to shimmer as if it is water. A moment later, she’s looking through transparent glass into an open space which seems made of mostly concrete. Three steps down from her level lead into a sunken area, which appears to be accessed from a door on the far left side. She can’t see much beyond the edges of what used to be her wall, other than to see that this outer chamber seems to extend beyond the walls of her own.

  In the middle of the sunken room stands a man, his hands in his jean pockets, staring at her. He’s trim, with orange-reddish hair and a very light beard. He wears a well-fitted plaid shirt, and his skin is pale, like it’s been a while since he’s been out in the sun. But she can also see he’s covered in freckles. It’s the same man who picked her up in the car; she recalls his picture from the ride-share app. But beyond that, there’s something familiar about the man, she just can’t put her finger on it.

  “Who are you?” she asks.

  He smiles. “I know it’s been a while,” he replies, his voice no longer modulated. “But I’d hoped you’d still recognize me.”

  She screws up her face, getting a good look at him. He’s not trying to hide anything about who he is, but for the life of her, Hannah can’t place his face. She shakes her head. “I don’t. What do you want with me?”

  He pinches his features, and she can tell he’s angry. She’s seen that look on a thousand guys before, the ones who always ask her out at the bars, the ones who think they know her and get mad when she rejects them. It’s the exact same look. Except this time, she’s in this man’s total control. She has no way out.

  “Want with you?” he asks, as if the question is ludicrous. “I want you to be happy.” The irritation in his voice is unmistakable. If she doesn’t do something to salvage this soon, she’s never getting out of here.

  “You’re right, I’m sorry,” she says, doing her best to sound submissive. She just needs him to let his guard down for a few minutes. To unlock that door. Right now, that’s her only goal.

  His face seems to relax. He steps to the side to reveal a small table behind him, complete with a tray of food of his own. “I thought we could have lunch together. Catch up. It’s been so long.”

  What kind of sick game is this guy playing? She needs to stall; she needs time to figure this out. Hannah looks around at what used to be the wall which is now all glass. “What is this? Has this been a window this entire time?”

  “It’s called switchable glass,” he replies, matter-of-factly. “With the introduction of a certain amount of current, the glass transforms from opaque to clear.” His eyes flick down to the tray on her table. “So? Care to eat with me?”

  Hannah doesn’t see she has much choice. Plus, the more she can learn about this man, the better chance she has of getting out of here. At this point she doesn’t even care why he abducted her; she just wants out. And this isn’t the kind of guy who strikes her as one of those alpha-male types she’s always running into. He seems quiet, reserved. Like a person no one would ever notice.

  She takes a cautious seat, which produces a small smile on the man’s face. He rounds the table and sits as well, staring directly at her. The first few moments are spent in silence, though he never takes his eyes off her as they eat. She finds it unnerving, but does her best not to show it. There’s no telling what this man is capable of.

  “So?” he asks.

  She glances at him, a current of fear running through her. It was too much to hope they’d be able to eat in silence. But with the wall no longer there she feels exposed, like she’s on display. Nothing about this feels right. She doesn’t even taste the food she’s eating.

  “So?” she repeats.

  “How is it? I know tomato soup is your favorite.”

  It actually isn’t, but she’s not about to argue with him. “It’s good,” she says, trying to keep her voice even. He’s acting like they’re old friends, and Hannah racks her brain trying to figure out if she does know him. She’s pretty sure she wouldn’t forget a face like that, though. Maybe they used to go to college together? He looks to be about her age, maybe a few years older.

  “D-did you go to UMD?”

  Immediately she knows she’s made a mistake. His face, which had been neutral before, twists into something ugly. He slams his fork down. “Why are you acting like this?” he says. It’s more of an accusation than a question.

  Something inside her snaps. Maybe it’s the accusatory tone, or the fact he’s locked her in this box with no way out. And even though some part of her brain knows it isn’t smart, she can’t help herself. She throws her fork down and shoots out of the chair. “What do you want with me?” she screams. “Just let me out of here!”

  He shakes his head, standing from his seat. “I’d really hoped we were past this. I was hoping you’d started to remember.”

  “Remember what?” she yells. “I’ve never met you! I don’t know anything about you, why should I?”

  He lets out a long breath and approaches the pane separating them. Hannah instinctively backs up. “I see the amnesia has taken hold. I was really hoping you’d come through this time.”

  “What are you talking about, you sick fuck!” Hannah yells. “Just let me out of here!” She puts her hands to her skull and turns in the room. This can’t be happening to her. She doesn’t deserve this.

  “You know I can’t do that, Lisa. Not until you’re better.”

  She’s taken aback. “Who the hell is Lisa?”

  “Don’t you remember?” he asks. “You are.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  “So we have two potential suspects,” Zara says, “both of them with computer science degrees and both who drive sedans. What are the odds?”

  I shake my head. As I’d begun looking into Douglas Krauss I felt like we’d done nothing but hit another roadblock, given he and Daryl Thorpe are so similar. They’re almost too similar. White males, approximately the same age, height, slightly different hair color, same general build. Both with similar backgrounds; both with enough skills to crack into Ryde 4 Lyfe’s files and erase their records.

  In fact, they’re so similar it’s enough to make me suspicious. Like someone engineered it that way.

  “They both fit the profile,” I say. “Almost to a fault. Which means we need to figure out a way to differentiate them from each other. Either one could be our man.”

  “And here I thought I’d actually be able to go home tonight,” she replies.

  “In your dreams,” I say, looking deeper into Douglas Krauss. Pretty quickly I’m able to find out that both his parents are deceased, though he has an aunt and an uncle who live in Florida. He also has a sister, but I can’t find much on her. But what’s even more interesting is the fact that he’s built himself a small fortune off his skills as a programmer.

  “Listen to this,” I say. “Douglas Krauss is one of the brightest stars in the field today, pioneering three different proprietary technologies that have propelled him to become a millionaire before turning thirty.”

  “I definitely went into the wrong profession,” Zara quips.

  “It says here the technologies he’s developed are used by the aviation industry, local police departments and even…the federal government.” I look up. “Have you ever heard of this guy?”

  Zara pushes her lips out. “Wait a second…Krauss, right?” She works on her terminal a few minutes. “Yeah, I think he’s the guy who helped develop the framework behind the Facial Analysis, Comparison, and Evaluation software. Jeez, no wonder he’s a millionaire.”

  I glare at the information Aruz provided from Ryde 4 Lyfe. “So what’s a millionaire doing driving for a ride-share company?”

  “I dunno, maybe he gets lonely. He’s not married, right?”

  I double check my data. “No. And I don’t see anything about a girlfriend. Which also fits the profile. But still…given the kind of work he does, you wouldn’t think he’d spend his nights picking up strangers and dropping them off. Not unless…” I turn to her. “…he was looking for somebody.” I motion to her. “What do Thorpe’s financials look like?”

  She pulls up his information. “Not good. Despite having a master’s in computer science, he hasn’t been able to hold down a steady job since he graduated three years ago. He’s been jumping from gig to gig. Ryde 4 Lyfe just happens to be his most recent.”

  “It has to be Krauss,” I say. “Thorpe needs the money, but this guy doesn’t. He’s out there patrolling the streets, like a predator.” A chill runs up my back. “Zara? Check and see how many other missing person’s cases are out there for this area.”

  “Um…” she says, squinting at her screen. “Sixteen for DMV. You want Baltimore too?”

  I shake my head. “No. This guy is going to stay local. How many of those missing persons are women?”

  “Nine,” she replies.

  “And how many under the age of…let’s say thirty.”

  “Six.”

  “How old is the oldest case?”

  “Hang on a second,” she says. “I see where you’re going with this.” She works on her terminal a minute longer. “Okay. Three of those six have gone missing within the time Krauss has worked for Ryde 4 Lyfe. Beginning about five and a half months ago.”

  “He’s taking them,” I say. “He’s just out there, taking women off the streets.”

  “But wait a second,” Zara says. “They can’t have all been through Ryde 4 Lyfe. It’s like Aruz said. If someone were abducting their fares, it would show up in his system.”

  “Not if he broke into the system before he even began working there.” I stare at Krauss’s face on the screen in front of me. There’s a coldness about him. A lifelessness in his eyes, and in my gut I know this is the guy. “Given his level of skill, who’s to say he hasn’t been manipulating the system from the start? What better way to get an unsuspecting woman into your car?”

  “So then why stop now?” she asks. “If I’m out there, using a system that’s proven to work for me, why stop now? What changed so that I erase my entire profile?”

  I shake my head. “I’m not sure. But I’m willing to bet Krauss didn’t know Aruz backed everything up offsite on a server that isn’t connected to anything. Otherwise he would have erased the entire record of him working there. But as it is, he can only access the active system. Something must have changed. Either he grew tired of doing it, or he finally found the fare he’d been looking for all along.”

  “Hannah,” Zara says.

  I shoot her a finger gun. “Yep. For whatever reason she was his white whale. Once he had her, he no longer had a need for the ride-share.” I sit back up. “We need to figure out what connects them. Why she was the target.”

  “So I’m assuming you want to put Thorpe to the side for now?” Zara asks.

  “We won’t eliminate him yet,” I reply. “But given what we know so far, I think Krauss is our guy. Check and see if his contract with us is still open regarding all this equipment. It might give us a natural in to him without tipping him off.”

  A moment later Zara shakes her head. “No dice. The contract expired last year.”

  “Damn,” I say. “I guess that would have been too easy.”

  “So what do we do? You said if we tip our hand, it could endanger Hannah.”

  “It still could. We have no idea what he’s capable of. And now we might have these other missing women to contend with.” I sit back in my chair. “We’ll need to tail him. Keep an eye on him, see what he’s doing during the day.”

  “That might not be as easy as it sounds,” she says. “These rich guys often go to places the general public isn’t allowed. Exclusive golf clubs, private events. Places where you and I would stand out like red grass.”

  I rub my face. The past few days have been exhausting. It seems like every lead we have only throws up more obstacles. Zara’s right. People with money protect themselves, especially if they’re out kidnapping people. The key is finding what Hannah means to him. If we can find that, we’ll be in a much better position. Otherwise, why would he go to all the trouble? Krauss is a man who can say and buy anything he wants. Why risk it for this one woman?

  “Let’s get to work on taking Douglas Krauss’s life apart,” I say. “We need as much information on him as we can get. Once we figure him out, then we’ll worry about how to tail him without being spotted.”

  “You’re the boss,” she says.

  As we get back to work, I’m reminded were it not for Chris, I’d have to go get Timber. But thankfully, even though he hates my guts, he loves my dog. Small blessings.

  It’s close to ten-thirty when I finally see Zara nod off at her desk. Her head pitches back, causing her mouth to open and a series of soft snores to begin. I go over and gently shake her, snapping her back awake.

  “Wha—?” she looks up at me through sleepy eyes. “Helloooo.”

  “Go home,” I tell her. “Get some sleep.”

  She shakes her head. “No way, if you’re staying, I’m staying.”

  “No, you’re not. You’re no good to me or anyone else if you’re exhausted. Go home, get a few hours, then come back.”

  “What about you?” she asks, standing up.

  “I’m not far behind you. Just going to run a few more searches. I need to go pick up your boyfriend. My former brother-in-law has been more than patient.”

  She yawns, causing me to yawn in response. I hate that. “Kay,” she says, then grabs her coat. “See you in a couple hours.”

  “A good night’s rest!” I call after her, unsure if she’ll actually listen or not. She waves me off as she passes through the double doors. I look around the rest of the office. The main lights are off and most of the stations are empty. Usually there are at least a few people working late, but it seems like I have the place to myself tonight. I double-check by dipping my head into Janice’s office, then quickly stroll down through the bullpen. The place is deserted as far as I can tell.

  I make my way back to my desk, my heart pounding as I pull out the folder Parrish gave me. It only takes me a moment to load up the pictures of the woman into the system. I set the parameters and begin the search, trying not to get my hopes up.

  It isn’t as if FACE has the picture of everyone on earth. And even if they did, these pictures would have to be clear enough to confirm a positive match. As it is, we only have the images of people of interest, or those with criminal backgrounds. And it’s not comprehensive by any means. Agencies all over the country are notorious for not keeping their files updated. Which means if someone has committed a crime in the past month there’s a possibility they aren’t even in the system yet. It’s horribly outdated, and I find it ironic that Krauss’s technology helps run it. Maybe that’s why he’s in D.C. He could have moved here for the contract and just never left, especially since it seems like the only family he has lives in Florida.

  As the search is running, I see the system beginning to create a small tally of names; possible matches, with the percentage of accuracy beside them. So far none of them are above forty percent. I need it to be at least seventy before I can act on anything.

  A noise from somewhere behind me causes me to immediately spin in my chair, my hand reaching for a service weapon that isn’t there. It’s locked in my desk. But I’m in the middle of the J. Edgar Hoover Building, I’m not in any danger here. It’s just a reflex. But it means someone else is here. Someone I’ve missed.

  I switch off my monitor while the search continues to run. “Hello?” I call out, but there’s no response. I’m up and out of my chair, slowly making my way to where I heard the sound. I shouldn’t be this jumpy, but performing an unauthorized search like this could get me into a lot of trouble, and I just found my way back into the Bureau’s good graces.

  When I reach the back of the room where the small kitchen is located, the lights are off. Though I was sure the sound came from here. I switch them on, bathing the open room in florescent lighting. On the ground, next to the sink is a metal spoon. I reach down and pick it up, replacing it in the sink. Someone must have left it too close to the edge of the counter.

  I scan the room one last time, making sure there’s no one else there before I turn the lights back off and return to my station. When I flip my monitor back on, it’s completed the search. In total it came back with eighty-six possible matches. Of those eighty-six, only four are above fifty percent. And none are above seventy.

  I print off the list of the four anyway, then make sure to go back into the system and remove the log of the search, along with the images of the woman from the system. Finally, I clear out the print request as well. I may need to ask Zara for her help covering my tracks in the morning. I’ll have to come up with some reason as to why I need her help with it, without telling her the real reason.

  As I put my coat on, I can’t help but feel a stab of shame at what I’m doing. This may be exactly what the abductor did before he took Hannah. But I’m not trying to hurt anyone. I’m trying to prevent people from getting hurt. Still…I can’t help but feel off about this decision. I tuck the folder with the original pictures and the names under my arm and head out.

  But as I’m preparing to leave, I feel the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. I spin in place, scanning the room behind me for someone in the darkness, someone watching me. But there’s no one there. It’s because I’m so off-book here; it’s making me more anxious than normal. Once I find out who this woman is and confront her, everything will be back to normal. I’ll finally be able to know peace again. I might not have Matt back, but at least I’ll have answers. And that will be good enough.