Chris Mooney - The Missing

'The same weapon used to kill Carol Cranmore's boyfriend,' Darby said. She had the ballistics report in her folder. 'You didn't recognize the gas station attendant?'

'This man was heavier, clean-cut with a shaved head,' Evan said. 'He looked nothing like John Smith. He was wearing a jacket, so I didn't see any tattoos. And he didn't fit the profile. He didn't ask many questions about the investigation, which psychopaths generally do. Obviously, I was wrong.'

'Had he attacked a police officer before?' Darby asked.

'Not to my knowledge. But if John Smith is a member of the Aryan Brotherhood or some other white supremacist group, killing a police officer or any member of law enforcement means you move up through the ranks. It's a badge of honor.'

'Still, it's odd that he would target you – and set up a trap,' Darby said.

'It's what psychopaths do when they're cornered. Or maybe he was trying to send us a message – to let us know he was in control.'

Evan's face took on a stillness that Darby found unsettling. 'Traveler's a very smart, highly organized psychopath,' he said. 'He abducts women from different states and mixes up the methods of abduction so he won't attract any attention to himself. The victim selection is totally random so we can't find a pattern. He can hide underground for several months, which shows a remarkable amount of restraint. And as I've learned, his plans are well thought out.

'Everything Traveler does is about exerting control over his surroundings – that's why he sent the package to Carol's mother, why he placed the call to her. He wants us to know he has Carol and can kill her whenever he wants.'

'Which is why we need to use the listening devices to bait him,' Darby said.

'With what?'

'You,' Darby said. 'We use the Herald reporter, tell him you're here because Rachel Swanson woke up and told us some key piece of evidence and you want to take a look at the house. That way we can guarantee Traveler will be listening.'

'If he reads my name in the paper, he might panic and decide to kill Carol and the other women and move on. He's done it before.'

'Only this time he made a mistake at Carol's house,' Darby said. 'He left his blood behind – and one of his victims. Rachel Swanson could be the key to finding Traveler. He's going to want to stick around to see what we know about Rachel before he moves on.'

Banville checked his watch. 'I've got fifteen minutes left to call the reporter,' he said. 'I'm open to suggestions.'

'We could wait until the sepsis is under control,' Evan said, 'and then move Rachel Swanson to a controlled setting at a psychiatric facility, take off her restraints and have Darby talk to her again.'

'She may not want to talk again,' Darby said. 'You listened to the tape. She stopped talking to me. Have you found listening devices at any of the other victims' homes?'

'No, this is a first.'

Darby looked at Banville. 'I say we plant the story about the FBI wanting to go through the house to search for key evidence. Traveler will want to know what Agent Manning has found. If Traveler shows up, we'll corner him. We'll have all the streets blocked off so he can't escape.'

'And if he doesn't show up?' Evan asked.

'He'll kill Carol – he may have already killed her,' Darby said. 'We need to use the listening devices. They're our best shot.'

Evan was now looking at Banville. 'This is your investigation. It's your call.'

Banville rubbed a finger across his mouth. 'Two missing women and a missing teenage girl… I agree with Darby. I say we go for it.'

All the florists in Beacon Hill were closed for the day. Darby was forced to pick through the anemic-looking flowers left inside the hospital gift shop. She took her time selecting the brightest colors she could find and made a nice arrangement.

ICU was quiet and calm now. Dr Hathcock was gone for the day. Darby checked in with a nurse. There was no change in Rachel Swanson's condition.

It took some wrangling to convince the nurse to allow the flowers in the room. Darby placed the flowers on the sill underneath the TV. That way, when Rachel woke up, she would see the flowers. Maybe they would help convince her that she was no longer trapped in the dark room where Carol Cranmore now was.

Bleary-eyed and weary, Darby stumbled into her mother's room. Sheila was asleep.

A peculiar sadness gripped her. On the way over here, Darby had hoped her mother would be awake. Darby needed to talk. The selfishness of a child needing her mother. Darby wondered if she would ever outgrow it.

Sheila's eyes fluttered open. 'Darby… I didn't hear you come in.'

'I just got here. Can I get you anything?'

'Some ice water would be nice.'

Downstairs, Darby filled a plastic tumbler with ice and water. She sat on the bed and held the cup while her mother sucked from a straw.

'Much better.' Sheila's eyes were clear and focused, but she was having trouble breathing. 'Did you eat? Tina made something resembling egg salad.'

'I grabbed a sandwich at the hospital.'

'What were you doing there?'

'Visiting Jane Doe,' Darby said. 'Her name is Rachel Swanson. She woke up today.'

'Tell me about it.'

'Why don't you rest? You look tired.'

Sheila waved it off. 'I'm going to have the rest of my life to sleep.'

Darby wondered where her mother found the source of her bravery, what images she used to comfort herself for what was awaiting her.

She helped her mother sit up. When Sheila was comfortable, Darby told her about what had happened at the hospital.

'What about Carol Cranmore?' Sheila asked.

'We're still looking.' Darby realized she was holding her mother's hand. 'We have something, though. Something we might be able to use to help find the person who has her.'

'That's good news.'

'It is.'

'So why don't you look happy?'

'If we don't do it the right way, he'll probably kill her.'

'You can't control that.'

'I know, but I pushed for this plan we're going to use tomorrow. Now I'm wondering if I made a mistake.'

'What you want is for someone to assure you it's all going to work out.'

'I smell a lecture.'

'You were like that since the day you were born. You had to be in control of everything.'

'Who says I'm not?'

Sheila grinned. 'What you are is dedicated – and smart. Very smart. Don't ever forget that.'

'The person we're after is smarter. He's been doing this for a long time. The other thing is, he might have other women besides Carol. They might still be alive. And if we don't catch him tomorrow, he might kill them.'

Her mother's eyelids fluttered and then shut. 'Promise me one thing.'

'Yes, I'll save myself for marriage.'

'Besides that,' Sheila said. 'Promise me you won't blame yourself if something goes wrong. You can't blame yourself for things you can't control.'

'Sounds like good advice.' Darby kissed her mother on the forehead and stood up. 'I think I'll try some of that egg salad. You want anything?'

'I would love some gum. My mouth is so dry.'

When Darby came back, she was asleep. Darby checked her mother's pulse. It was still there.

She went to the spare bedroom and tried reading the case file, but all Darby could see was Carol Cranmore in the pictures – Carol walking through her dark prison cell, hands outstretched; Carol bumping into walls, trapped, terrified.

Darby shut the file and brought her Walkman with her to the recliner. She listened to the conversation with Rachel Swanson and stared out the window, at the trees shaking in the breeze under the dark sky. Carol Cranmore was somewhere out there, swallowing darkness and fear in equal measures.

Hang on, Carol. Find a way to fight and hang on.