Cody McFadyen - Shadow Man

Dr. Kenneth Child is one of the few profilers whose opinion I respect. I had asked Callie to get him a copy of all the information on Jack Jr. and to ask him for a consultation, soonest.

"He said to tell you that he read the letter and has some opinions, but he wants to wait until after he sees whatever is in the package. The one that's supposed to arrive on the twentieth." She shrugs. "He was pretty firm about it."

I let it go. Dr. Child has never brushed me off. I'll have to trust his instincts on this. I turn to Alan and Leo. "What's the status on the warrant for Annie's subscriber list?"

"We should have it in an hour," Leo says.

"Good. Stay on that." I snap my fingers. "Do we have someone from the LAPD bomb squad lined up?"

Alan nods. "Yep. They're bringing a bomb sniffer with them."

"Bomb sniffer" is the name given to a machine utilizing ion mobile spectrometry. In short, it can detect traces of ionized molecules that are specific to explosive materials.

Much debate had gone on about how to set things up for the twentieth. AD Jones wanted a SWAT team there, in case Jack Jr. or friend decided to make this delivery personally. I had nixed this idea.

"That's not how they've operated so far," I had said. "And that's not how they're going to operate now. I expect it to be simple. Regular delivery."

He'd agreed after some protest. And after I'd made the point that bringing in SWAT would likely bring the media with it. He and I had seen eye-to-eye on having a bomb tech there, however. Not taking that precaution would be foolhardy.

"Something's still bothering me about Annie's file," Alan says. He glances at James. "Be nice to get another point of view on it."

"Help him out, James."

James nods. He hasn't said a single word this morning.

"There is another question that begs an answer, honey-love," Callie murmurs. "How are they getting all their information? I mean--we found the bugs in Dr. Hillstead's office, but medical records, my daughter?"

"It's not that hard," Leo pipes up. We look at him. "Information just isn't as secure as people think it is. Elaina's medical records?" He shrugs. "A white coat and attitude, and you can walk just about anywhere in a hospital. Combine that with computer know-how, and you've hacked into the hospital servers. You can buy information, steal information, hack information." He shrugs. "You'd be shocked at how easy it can be. I've seen it, working in Computer Crimes. Good hackers, or identity thieves, can get their hands on all kinds of personal data. Things that would surprise you." He looks at Callie. "Give me a week, and I could find out everything about you. From your credit rating to what medications you take." He looks around at all of us. "The stuff he's come up with so far? Disturbing, I know. But not rocket science to acquire."

I stare at him for a moment, letting this sink in. We all do. Finally, I nod. "Thanks, Leo. So--does everyone know what they're working on?"

I look around. "Good."

The door to the office opens, breaking the moment. I glance to see who's coming in, and concern floods me.

Marilyn Gale is standing in the doorway, looking worried. A uniformed policeman is standing next to her, holding a package in his arms.

I T CAME ANhour ago," she says. "Addressed to you, Agent Barrett, care of me. I figured . . ." she trails off, but we all understand. Who else would be sending something for me to Marilyn's address?

We're back in the office. Everyone is crowded around the desk, looking at the package while sneaking curious glances at Marilyn. Callie notices the latter, and her exasperation at this seems to overtake her concern about the package.

"Oh, for heaven's sake," she says. "This is my daughter, Marilyn Gale. Marilyn, meet James, Alan, and Leo, lower functionaries."

Marilyn grins at this. "Hi," she says.

"Did you intercept it?" I ask the policeman, a Sergeant Oldfield.

"No, ma'am." He's a solid-state-looking guy. Been around, very comfortable being the police, and not cowed by myself or the FBI in general. "Our assignment was to watch the residence. And Ms. Gale when she goes out, of course." He jerks a thumb at Marilyn. "She came to us with the package, explained her concerns, and asked us to transport her and the package here."

I turn to Marilyn. "You didn't open it, did you?"

Her face grows serious again. "No. I didn't think I should. I mean, I've only done my first year in criminology"--I see Alan and Leo exchange glances at this--"but even if I hadn't, all you have to do is watch some TV to know you don't mess with possible evidence."

"That's good, Marilyn," I say. I choose my next words with care. I don't want to frighten her too much, but they have to be said. "That's not the only reason, though. What if he decided to do something crazy?

Like send a letter bomb."

Her eyes go wide. She gets a little pale. "Oh--I . . . Jesus. I mean, it never occurred to me . . ." She gets paler. Thinking of her baby, I bet.

Callie puts a hand on her shoulder. I see anger and concern in Callie's eyes. "Nothing to worry about now, honey-love. It was x-rayed by security before you came up, right?"

"Yes."

"That's exactly the kind of thing they look for."

Marilyn's color is coming back. She recovers fast. So then what we have here, I think, is something new and exciting. And maybe not pretty to look at.

"Callie, why don't you take Marilyn to lunch?"

She gets the message. I'm going to open this up; there could be something in here that Marilyn doesn't need to see.

"Good idea. Come on, honey-love." She grabs Marilyn by the arm, moving her toward the door. "Where's little Steven, by the way?"

"My mom's watching him. Are you sure you can leave right now?"

"It's fine," I say to her, smiling though I don't feel it inside. "And thanks for bringing this by. If this happens again, call us. Don't touch the package."

Her eyes widen again, and she nods. Callie hustles her out.

"Mind if I hang around, ma'am?" Sergeant Oldfield asks. He shrugs.

"I'd like to see what's in the package. Get a feel for the perp."

"Sure. As long as you add intercepting packages to your list of duties in the future." I look at him. "Not a rebuke, just a request."

He nods. "Already done, ma'am."

I open a drawer, reach in, and extract some latex gloves, slip them on. Now I focus on the package. It's another legal-size manila envelope. The familiar block printing in black ink is on the front: ATTN.: AGENT SMOKY

BARRETT. The package is about a half to three quarters of an inch thick. I turn it over, check the flap. Not sealed. Just the brad holding it closed. I look up. Everyone is silent, waiting. Might as well open it. The letter is on top. I rifle through the other contents, a brief look. My eyes narrow at the sight of a few pages of printed photos. Each picture shows a woman, naked from the waist up, wearing panties, some tied to chairs, some tied to beds. In every case, a hood is over the woman's head. Something else is in the envelope, and my heart sinks. A CD. I turn my attention to the letter. What now? I think, bleak. Greetings, Agent Barrett!

I realize this was circuitous, being sent care of Ms. Gale. But that served just one purpose: to continue to push my prior point home. That no one you love is safe, should I decide to reach out and . . . touch them.

No, this is all for you, Agent Barrett. Please bear with me as I walk you through it. There is a philosophical basis behind it, some history you need to understand, if you are to grasp these contents in their en- tirety.

Do you know what the most searched-for word on the Internet is?

Sex. Keeping that in mind, do you know what one of the other most sought-after words is? Rape.