Rebecca York - Solid as Steele

After he’d satisfied himself with the preparations, he went downstairs to look at the woman who was sleeping in the cell he’d constructed in the basement. He’d built the walls of cinder block, and the door was reinforced, so there was no chance of escape.

The woman on the narrow bunk inside was lying on her back, her blond hair fallen across her cheek. As he stood over her, he suppressed the urge to brush it back.

Better not touch her until he was wearing his gloves and his Locard suit. Well, it wasn’t anything official. That’s what he called it. Locard was the French forensic scientist who’d first pointed out that when two objects touched, each would leave traces of themselves on the other. But that wasn’t going to happen with his suit made out of neoprene.

He took a step back, still staring at the sleeping woman. He’d drugged her, and she wasn’t going to wake up for several hours. Plenty of time for him to go out to dinner, then put on his outfit. He’d be wearing it when he let her out of the cell, and then the games would begin. Of course, there might be fibers from the cape. But that didn’t matter. He’d bought it at a vintage clothing store in Boston, so nobody was going to connect it with murders in western Maryland.

After making sure the door to the cell and also all the doors to the house were locked, he climbed into his SUV and drove to an area down by the Potomac River where there were some shops, artists’ studios and restaurants. The Chamber of Commerce or some other group was sprucing up the town, but they’d left some major messes. Right down by the river was a half-demolished brick building that used to be a dye works. It dragged down the whole area. And there should be more restaurants to choose from. He’d had Italian for dinner last time before the fun. This time he was going to try that place where you could get Maryland crabcakes and barbecued ribs.

MACK HAD CONTINUED DRIVING as they talked, and Jamie looked up to see that they were on a road that ran parallel to the CSX train yard where more than a hundred freight cars were parked.

“Where are we going?”

“You said the funhouse was in Gaptown. Maybe we can find it.”

“Gaptown’s a big place.”

“Not like say, Baltimore or Washington. Maybe you’ll have some…insights.”

“Okay.” She took in a sharp breath.

“What?”

“I do remember hearing a train whistle in my dream.”

“Which means it could be down here.”

“No. The train goes right through town. There are even bridges over the tracks on the west side—the elegant part of town. You can’t get away from CSX. The railroad’s been here since before the company bought the Chesapeake & Ohio.”

“Then which way should we go?”

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