“What if there are more, though? What if he’s been at this for a while and there are more of his grisly little boxes spread out through the city, just waiting to be discovered.”

  “That’s crossed my mind, too.”

  And as she thought of it, there was something about the way Jack said it that opened a new thought in her mind. It was a bit attached to something she’d also thought just moments ago about the killer scouring out these areas. She thought of Kent Benson working to dump the gravel, of Frank Eaves accidentally coming upon that first wooden box.

  Before she could start to truly unpack it, though, Hunt and Neeley started walking in their direction. Apparently, the outside of their car was going to serve as the new hub of activity. Hunt was talking animatedly to someone on the phone—a rather eerie sight, given that it looked like he was just a breath or two away from giving out due to exhaustion. He ended the call by the time he reached the car, shaking his head at something.

  “Chief, when is the last time you slept?” Rachel asked.

  “Don’t remember. Don’t care. We’ve got to put a stop to this. The media knows about Madeline Young and how she was found. If it gets out that two more people have been found in that same way…this city is going to lose its damned mind. I’ve got five men looking into trying to find a link between the three victims, but I already feel like it’s going to be a waste of time.”

  “Madeline Young lived around here, right?” Jack asked.

  “Yes. But honestly, I don’t think anyone knew about it until all of this mess.”

  “And Peter Weston was also a local,” Rachel said.

  “I know where you’re going with this but it doesn’t matter,” Hunt said. “Alexandria and D.C. are pretty much interchangeable for something like this.”

  “I know,” Rachel said. “But what worries me is that this could mean the killer is pulling from a pool of victims in D.C., too. Not just here in Alexandria. And if that’s the case—”

  “Jesus, I don’t even want to think about that.”

  “Anyway,” Jack said “I saw that the fellow with the GPR left five minutes ago. Is he heading to the next site on the list?”

  “Yeah. It’s over on the western edge of the city where they’re about to put up some sort of healthy foods store.”

  “Any idea when they broke ground on that project?”

  “Hutchinson says he thinks it’s been about a week. He’s been a real asset. The man knows everyone in the construction business, it seems.”

  “How about your end?” Rachel asked, looking to Susan Neeley. “Are you about to take the body?”

  “Yes. I just thought I’d tell you that this body doesn’t look to have been in the ground for very long. I’d guess they’ve been dead for no more than a week.”

  Before this tidbit could settle into the growing pile of case facts, the inkling of a thought she’d had before Hunt and Neeley arrived flickered back into view. This time, she grabbed hold of it and realized it had come back when Hunt mentioned Hutchinson knowing everyone in the construction industry.

  “Is Hutchinson still here?” she asked.

  “Yeah,” Hunt answered. “He’s over there by the excavator talking to the operator.”

  When she moved away from the car and started walking in that direction, Jack followed her. He didn’t ask what was on her mind or what she was up to; he simply followed along. Hutchinson saw them approaching and stopped whatever it was he was saying to the operator. Like Hunt he also looked like he was extremely tired.

  “Mr. Hutchinson, I have a question for you,” Rachel said.

  “And hopefully I have an answer.”

  “When you placed bids on the condo project and the hospital, did you work directly with the property owners?”

  “I didn’t really work with them, but I do usually end up at least having one or two conversations with them. The folks in charge of the actual sale are almost always the real estate companies.”

  “And in both of those cases, did the sales go smoothly?”

  “Yeah. They were both with the same company, actually. After a while, you start to create these sorts of partnerships with the agents. They look out for you to make sure you get the job because that means they get a commission.”

  “So both the hospital and condo job came to you through the same agency?”

  “Yeah. Williams and Meyers.” He eyed her skeptically for a moment and then a worried expression settled over his face. Then, after apparently understanding what she was getting at, he added: “They were also in charge of the sale of this bit of land, too.”

  “Did you place a bid on it?”

  “No. I tend to stay away from retail jobs.”

  “But you do know for sure they were the agency that was pushing this property?”

  “Yeah. One hundred percent. I get pinged every time a job is announced and they’re ready to accept proposals.”

  “Williams and Meyers,” Rachel said.

  She wasn’t sure if it was a promising thread to follow, but it was a thread, nonetheless. And it gave them one more avenue to pursue while Hunt and his men did what they could to find links between the three victims—if there were any at all.

  She thanked Hutchinson and walked back to her car. Hunt and Neeley were still huddled there; Hunt looked at her expectantly as she opened the passenger side door.

  “Chief Hunt, please call us if there are any breaks at all,” she said. “And Dr. Neeley, same for you…but I guess we know what you expect by now.”

  “Sadly, I think you’re right.”

  “And also, Chief…” Rachel added. “For real. Get some sleep.”

  He smiled at her as he started walking back toward the little gathering of cops over by the now-empty hole in the ground. And with another tenuous lead ahead of them, Jack started the car and pulled away from the third crime scene they’d visited in just over twenty-four hours.

  CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

  The offices of Williams and Meyers were located right in the center of town. It was the largest building within the confines of an upscale strip mall, bordered by a small marketing agency and a shoe outlet. Based on the location, Rachel doubted Williams and Meyers was a major mover in the real estate business within the city—which, she supposed, was why they seemed to deal primarily in undeveloped lots rather than larger business. On the other hand, she supposed it must take a bit of a good reputation to get involved in any projects dealing with a hospital.

  Being mired down with the inner workings of real estate while the police were trying to track connections and leads between their three victims wasn’t exactly exciting…but Rachel felt that it was necessary. She kept this thought in mind as she and Jack walked into the small lobby. It smelled of coffee and pastries, a reminder that she’d had a meager breakfast back at the station.

  Two women sat at a long front counter, a set-up that separated the lobby from the rest of the mostly open space behind them. There were a few desks positioned around the larger room, with five different offices along the walls. Rachel saw only a single person sitting out in the open space, typing something up on a laptop.

  “Good morning,” the younger of the two said. She couldn’t have been any older than twenty-five and was far too bright and perky in Rachel’s opinion. “How can we help you this morning?”

  Jack showed his badge and ID, keeping them low. “We’re agents Rivers and Gift, with the FBI,” he said. “We’re trying to find some information related to three different property sales that have been made by Williams and Meyers in the past few weeks.”

  The younger woman made no attempt to hide her surprise and amazement. She stared at Jack’s ID for a good three seconds in awe before turning her eyes back to them. The other woman, somewhere near middle-aged and with much less wonder in her eyes at the sight of Jack’s ID, offered a slightly impressed look and nothing more.

  “Which properties were these?” she asked.

  Rachel was rather surprised when Jack was able to rattle off the addresses of all three pieces of land. As he gave the address of the construction taking place at the hospital, Rachel saw the older woman give a little grimace of worry.

  “I know you don’t have to tell us anything,” the older woman said, “but are you able to let us know what’s going on with these properties?”

  “Not in detail,” Rachel said. “All we can tell you right now that all three are part of an ongoing investigation and—”

  “The condominium plot was where they found that governor’s daughter,” the younger woman said softly. “Do you think these other sites are—”

  “Again, we can’t give you specific details,” Rachel said. “For right now, we need to know who was in charge of those sales.”

  Both women looked at each other, sharing an uncomfortable glance. The older one nodded after a few seconds and then shrugged when she turned back to Rachel and Jack. “We’re not a very large company,” she said. “We only have two agents that are involved with larger, industrial sales. And one of our guys is spending six weeks out in Akron, Ohio, doing some trainings. Anything sold in the past six weeks was done through Stephen Dean.”

  “Is he in the office today?” Rachel asked.

  “He’s on the clock, but he’s rarely in the office,” the older woman said. “He’s almost always out meeting with potential buyers or in meetings. Right now, I believe he’s somewhere out and about meeting with clients.”

  “Any idea with who, or where?”

  The older woman appeared to give it a bit of thought, but the younger girl seemed to have switched personalities completely. Her eyes scanned the counter as if she was trying to find something else to draw her attention.

  “Is he in some sort of trouble?” the older woman asked.

  “Ma’am, we just can’t give you details on anything right now,” Jack said. “But please…if you know anything…”

  “There’s a small marketing company downtown,” the older woman said. “Bowen Marketing. I think the meeting is supposed to last until noon. You could find him there, but…”

  “But what?” Rachel asked.

  “Do you have to tell him that we told you where he is?”

  “No, not at all,” Rachel said. “And just in case…do either of you have his business card so we’ll have his number?”

  The young girl seemed to snap out of whatever stupor she was in at this question. She nodded, opened a drawer on the other side of the counter, and grabbed a business card out of it. She handed it to Jack, her eyes darting nervously between them. Her tone was very different than it had been less than a minute ago, making Rachel wonder if she already knew something.

  Best not to call her out on it in front of her co-worker, she thought. If necessary, we can always come back to her.

  “Ladies,” Jack said, pocketing the card, “thank you for your help. If we can manage it, Mr. Dean doesn’t even need to know we came by here.”

  Both of the women were uneasy by then, so all they managed were quick nods of acknowledgement as Jack and Rachel made their exit. They walked quickly back to the car, with Rachel already typing Bowen Marketing into the maps application on her phone. As she reached for the passenger side door, a mousy voice stopped her.

  “Agents?”

  They both looked back to the door of Williams and Meyers and saw the young girl coming out. She looked just as nervous as she’d seemed inside before they left. She gave one quick glance back to the door, maybe to see her co-worker’s reaction.

  “Yes?” Rachel said. “What is it?”

  The young woman came closer to the car, standing just a few feet away from them. In a low voice, she said, “You know…if you want, you can find out where he is pretty easily. He’s got one of those OnStar systems on his car.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Yeah. Most of the agents that work here do.”

  “And why didn’t you bother telling us this inside?”

  The anxious look came back across her face. She looked almost scared, squaring up her shoulders as if it might make her invisible just in case her co-worker was spying on her through the glass in the front door.

  “Because…there’s something about Stephen no one else knows…just me. And he…”

  Rachel could tell the girl was about to lose her nerve, so she stepped forward and did her best to match the quiet, soft tone of the young woman. “Whatever it is, you can tell us. We’ll make sure you’re protected. It’s doubtful you could lose your job.”

  “No, it’s not that. Not really. A…a few months ago, Stephen hit on me. A few of us went out for drinks and I had a bit too much. He offered to drive me home, so I let him. I was…well, I was very drunk and got flirty and so he and I messed around in his car. But when I told him to stop, he got very angry. I opened the door to get out and he pulled me back in and slapped me.”

  “Did you report him?” Jack asked.

  “No. I was about to storm away from him but he begged me to let him apologize, to hear him out, I was…I don’t know. I was sort of shocked, so I waited to hear him out. And he told me that if I kept it quiet, he’d give me a thousand dollars. Five hundred right then and there and another five when I got to work the next day. Plus another thousand from the next commission check he got and a small percentage of anything he made from sales in the next year. I…I really know it was a mistake but two thousand dollars so quick and a little stipend for a year or so…I was just drunk enough to not even question it.”

  “So why are you telling us?” Rachel asked, but she thought she saw a bit of fire in the woman’s eyes and thought she already knew why.

  “Because I’ve regretted it every day since it happened, despite the money. And if he’s done something else…something that warrants FBI involvement, you can help make it right…I guess. I don’t know if it makes sense.”

  “I think I understand,” Rachel said, meaning it. “It was brave of you to come out here to us.”

  “At the risk of sounding uncaring,” Jack said, “let’s get back to the OnStar thing, because we could be up against the clock here. You’re certain he has it?”

  “Yes.”

  “Any chance you have his license plate number anywhere?”

  “Yes. That sort of information is on every agent’s profile in the database.”

  “We probably won’t need it if he does have OnStar, but I need you to text me his license plate information as soon as you can,” Jack said. Then, in an almost symbolic gesture reflecting the business card collection inside, Jack handed her his own card. “Text it to me as soon as you can, okay?”

  “I will,” she said.

  “Thank you,” Rachel said. “Really. This could be an enormous help.”

  The young woman nodded dismissively and then went back into the building. Rachel watched her go inside, curious to see to see if the older woman at the counter would question her. But as far as Rachel could see, everything seemed perfectly fine between them.

  When she turned back to the car, she saw that Jack had wasted no time at all. He’d already placed a call and just as Rachel started to watch, he began to speak. “Hey,” he said, “it’s Jack Rivers. Look, I need you to track down the OnStar data for a guy named Stephen Dean of Alexandria, Virginia. How long do you think that’ll take?”

  Rachel watched over the roof of the car as Jack nodded a few times and then, about twenty seconds later, he said “Thanks a ton,” and ended the call.

  “Well?” Rachel asked.

  “Five minutes, tops. If that.”

  Rachel nodded. “Given the story we just heard about this guy—the abuse and the monetary solution to cover it up—it does sort of fit the profile.”

  “You mean you already have a profile for this guy?”

  “Not officially, but…”

  “I was just teasing. I was thinking the same thing. It had all the alarm bells going off.”

  As they got in the car and waited for the call to come, Rachel thought about the sort of man that would try pushing himself on a woman and then quickly and promptly offer her money to keep it quiet. She thought about a man that was apparently quite successful in his career, selling property for others to build upon. She supposed some of it did indeed fit a profile of sorts, but she also understood what Jack was getting at.

  A man that was drugging people—not just women—and putting them into a wooden box in the ground to suffocate and die…how did you start putting a profile together for a man like that?

  Jack’s phone rang shortly after. He answered the call with a simple, “It’s Rivers.” He nodded a few times, gave a quick thanks, and then ended the call.

  He looked over at Rachel while he started the ignition, with an excited smile on his face. “We got him.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY TWO

  Rachel’s back was pressed firmly against the seat as Jack sped to the location he’d been given on the phone. He was currently blasting through a strip of small businesses, speeding but not in a reckless manner—just twenty over the limit.

  “The address is just eight miles away,” Jack said, his eyes glued to the road. “It’s also not Stephen Dean’s address. It’s in the system as the address of Sharon Mowry.”

  He left it at that, but Rachel knew what he was thinking—mainly because she was thinking the same thing. If Dean had left work under the guise of being in meetings and was, in fact, somewhere else, he was keeping secrets. It made Rachel instantly think that Sharon Mowry could very well be the next victim. And it meant they needed to get there as soon as they could.

  Rachel announced each turn they needed to take, looking at the map on Jack’s phone. After a series of turns that wound them further and further away from clusters of businesses and restaurants, they ended up on a well-to-do throughfare that seemed to connect Alexandria’s downtown district with the more retail-oriented end of things. Sharon Mowry lived off of this two-lane road, down a cute subdivision that was positioned in a way that it was almost hidden from everything else.