Rick Mofina - Full Tilt

Nothing was emerging.

Commentators on the network news shows speculated that Zurrn had committed a murder-suicide and that it was only a matter of time before he was found. Others believed Zurrn would succumb to being the most wanted fugitive in the country and make a mistake. There were those who were convinced Zurrn would attempt to grab the spotlight in some disturbing fashion.

Despite the national media attention, despite all the tips to the task force, nothing new had surfaced, at least nothing that the investigators were willing to discuss. Kate had a vague feeling that something was happening but no matter how she tried, she couldn’t nail it down.

Nobody was talking.

By the time she lifted her head from her desk it was early evening and most of the day-side staff had gone. The smaller night crew was working quietly. As darkness fell, Kate went to the windows and studied the lights of Midtown Manhattan.

Exhausted, frustrated and fearful, Kate felt a lump rising in her throat with a mounting sense of defeat. She had to accept that Zurrn was going to kill Vanessa, if he hadn’t done it already.

That was how this was going to end. Kate would never see her sister.

I had her and she slipped away from me again.

She ached to see Vanessa, to hold her, to comfort her, to tell her how much she loved her and that everything would be okay. They probably wouldn’t even recognize each other, but that wouldn’t matter because they’d know the bond that had survived.

Somewhere in the skyline’s glimmering lights Kate found hope.

What am I doing? I can’t give up. There’s no proof of anything. After all she’s been through Vanessa hasn’t given up! I’ve got to keep fighting to find her!

Kate returned to her desk, intending to call Brennan and push him hard for information.

As she reached for her phone it rang.

The number was blocked.

“Newslead, Kate Page.”

Kate heard nothing.

“Hello,” she said, “this is Kate Page at Newslead.”

“I saw you on TV.”

The caller’s voice was robotic, monotone as if coming from a voice changer or electronic synthesizer.

Her thoughts raced.

Was this a joke? Was this Erich being cryptic again?

“Who is this?”

“Are you at a computer? Check your email and the link I’ve sent you.”

Wedging the phone to her ear with her shoulder, Kate typed quickly, moved her mouse, found a new email and froze upon reading the subject line: Final Scene from The Kill Jar.

“Did you find it? Open the link.”

Holding her breath, Kate clicked on the link. It went to a live feed of a woman, her eyes wide with terror.

“Say goodbye to your sister. I put her in her grave so you and the world can watch her die.”

New York City

No, this can’t be real!

Kate was rooted in shock.

The woman’s face- Vanessa’s face -was creased with terror. Her lips were moving, like she’s praying . Her upper body filled Kate’s monitor. At the bottom of the frame graphics of meters flashed while measuring her blood and heart rates; the level of carbon dioxide; the remaining amount of oxygen. A digital clock counted down the hours, minutes and seconds, left on Vanessa’s life.

Kate’s hands were trembling when she called 911.

“Police operator, what’s your emergency?”

“I need to report a woman buried alive in a coffin! She doesn’t have much time-”

“What is your name and location, ma’am?”

“Kate Page, 470 West 33rd Street, Newslead.”

“Where’s the woman buried, what’s the location?”

“I don’t know! It’s online with a live feed!”

“Online? Do you have a web address?”

“It’s-hang on-it’s ‘ScenesFromTheKillJar,’ all one word.”

The operator repeated it twice as Kate heard the rapid clicking of a keyboard.

“You’ve got to track it, find her!” Kate said. “She’s running out of time! I’m a reporter with Newslead. This is the Sorin Zurrn case. Someone called me two minutes ago, telling me about the live video. I think it’s Zurrn. Alert Detective Ed Brennan, with the Rampart police department, the FBI, the task force!”

“Stay on the line.”

“Hurry, she’s got three hours and fifty-five minutes left!”

Two night editors were drawn to Kate’s desk.

“What the hell? Is this real?” Brad Davis stared at her screen.

Kate nodded big nods, knowing that Davis, who handled copy from reporters in crisis spots around the world, had one of the quickest minds at Newslead. He turned to Phil Keelor, the junior editor.

“Call our twenty-four-hour IT people. We’re going to need all the help we can get,” Davis said. “I’ll call Chuck to alert the honchos. We’ve got to move fast.”

“Okay, Kate?” the operator said.

“Yes!”

“We’ve got people on the way to you.”

Within the first hour the newsroom had filled with uniformed NYPD officers, detectives, FBI agents and investigators from several other federal agencies. They’d set up quickly in the newsroom. They were monitoring Kate’s phone in case Zurrn called again. Someone had a trauma doctor on speakerphone. He was studying the meters that appeared to be connected to Vanessa. Kate could hear him.

“If those meters are genuine, her signs are way up. Her stress is causing her to use more oxygen, which could reduce her time. Her carbon dioxide level is three percent, if it climbs to four or higher, we’re in trouble. And you’ve got to hope that the box doesn’t collapse under the weight and pressure of all the dirt.”

Chuck, Reeka, along with executive editors Rhett Lerner and Dianne Watson arrived. Newslead’s chief legal counsel, Tischa Goldman, was on the line to advise them on releasing any information police may need to help locate Vanessa.

As word spread, other news staff arrived to offer help, but most everyone huddled in small groups at terminals transfixed by what was playing out before their eyes. Kate couldn’t stop trembling, or praying, as she watched the seconds blazing by.

Glimpsing at her framed photo of Grace, Kate called Nancy and told her what was happening.

“I know,” Nancy said, “it’s been on TV with a breaking news bulletin.”

Kate needed to know Grace was okay.

“I’ll go down and check on her,” Nancy said. Ten minutes later, she called back to say that Grace was fine.

As a precaution, Kate pulled one of the NYPD officers aside and requested that, given the fact Zurrn had called her, they send someone to her building to check on her daughter’s welfare.

When Kate returned to her desk, her line rang. She looked at an FBI agent wearing headphones and waited for him to nod before she answered.

“You’re seeing what’s happening online, Kate?” the caller asked.

It was Erich. Kate indicated to the agent that the caller was a friend.

“Yes, Zurrn called me.”

“He called?”

“We’re sure it was him. He wants the world to see him kill Vanessa.”

“He’s getting attention.”

“We’ve got the NYPD, the FBI and I don’t know how many others, trying to locate her. Tell me the truth, Erich, can we find her?”

He didn’t answer.

“Erich, will we find her?”

“It depends.”

“On what?”

“How good he really is at hiding his tracks.”

“That’s not what I need to hear right now.”

“You got people working on it. I’ll work on it and I’ll get my friends to work on it. Everyone’s trying to pinpoint the source of the feed and Vanessa’s location.”

“Hurry!”

As the first hour became the second, the press picked up the situation via social media. The New York Times , Reuters, NBC, CNN, the Associated Press and several other news organizations called Newslead for interviews.