New York to Dallas

Tusso began. “He most usually hunts and abducts his victims in busy areas, likes the crowds. Times Square, Chelsea Piers, Coney Island—those were his primary hunting grounds during his last spree.”
    Eve wanted to say it hadn’t been a spree. Sprees were fast, furious, often random. Just a thirst for violence and excitement. But she held her tongue.
    “He’s already hit in New York,” Tusso continued, “and sent messages to Lieutenant Dallas through the victims. Our focus will be on his known hunting grounds.”
    “We’ll coordinate with you,” Nikos told him. “Our probability scans and anals are heavily weighted toward McQueen moving out of New York and going under for a period of time,” she began. “We’re looking at public transportation, and doing facial recognition on toll scans.”
    Eve held her tongue again as Nikos ran through the FBI’s strategy. If the feds wanted to believe McQueen was on the run, let them.
    “We already have officers in place at the high-probability targets,” Tusso continued. “McQueen usually snatches his vics at night, but he’s been known to work in daylight. We’ll have those areas covered twenty-four/seven until his capture.”
    After a brisk knock on the door, Whitney’s admin announced Oliver Greenleaf, the prison’s chief administrator. Eve immediately dubbed him a weasel. Striding in at his side in a sharp red suit, Amanda Spring, the prison’s chief counsel, carried a glossy leather briefcase the same shade of golden brown as her hair.
    “Commander.” With a toothy smile, Greenleaf extended his hand as he crossed the room. “I do apologize for being a bit late. We were detained by—”
    “You’re fully twenty minutes late,” Whitney said in a tone that, to Eve’s private satisfaction, wiped the smile off Greenleaf’s pale, pinched face. “And I’m not interested in your reasons or excuses. You’ve already kept this department and agents from the FBI waiting more than twenty-four hours for information vital to our joint investigation.”
    “Commander.” Spring nudged her client aside, and spoke in a tone equally stern. “As legal counsel for—”
    “I have not yet addressed you, nor do I intend to. Your facility is responsible for the escape of a violent pedophile, Greenleaf, and you’ve wasted the valuable time of the officers and agents working to apprehend him. I’m telling you, and the lawyer you felt it necessary to bring to this office, that if one girl is taken, is hurt in any way, you will have hell to pay. That’s a personal promise.”
    “Commander Whitney, threats are hardly productive.”
    Whitney skewered the lawyer with a look. “If you speak again, I will have you removed from this office. You were not invited here. Your client has no need for legal counsel as he is in no danger, unfortunately, of being placed under arrest. Now, I want all the data and reports, lists and files this department demanded after being, belatedly, informed of Isaac McQueen’s escape.”
    “We have quite a bit of data for you. Unfortunately, our internal investigation is not yet complete. It’s, of course, imperative that this investigation be thorough and comprehensive. We expect to have those reports finalized and in your hand by the end of the day.”
    Whitney’s stare could have melted iron. “If you stall thirty seconds more, this is what’s going to happen. I will hold a media conference, along with my lieutenants and these agents. I will announce not only that Isaac McQueen walked out of your facility after murdering a medical, but that you deemed it proper to delay informing the NYPSD of this escape for over eighteen hours. During which time, McQueen assaulted and raped a female victim, assaulted her male cohab. I will provide graphic details of these attacks.”
    “Commander—”
    “Shut up. I’m not done. I will further report that your facility has delayed another twenty-four hours in providing this department and the FBI with vital and pertinent data, and that charges of obstruction of justice are being considered. I will then have Lieutenant Dallas remind the public just what she found when she apprehended Isaac McQueen twelve years ago. You’ll be lucky if they don’t come for you with pitchforks.”
    He waited a beat. “I want everything you’ve got, and now, including your preliminary reports and findings on your internal investigation. Thirty seconds,” Whitney repeated when Greenleaf looked at Spring for