The Lonely Mile(23)
At first, I was very angry with you, Bill. May I call you Bill? After all, sharing someone as close to both of our hearts as Carli makes us close as well, don’t you think? Anyway, as I did a little research into the man who ruined my carefully laid plans the other day, I discovered, to my surprise and delight, that fate had laid better plans right in my lap—the meddling man’s very desirable daughter.
Thanks to the generosity of the news media, I was able to learn, right from the comfort of my own couch, who you are and what you do. (Really, Bill, hardware stores? How boring. How pedestrian. I would have figured you for, I don’t know, dentistry perhaps. Oh, wait, I’m sorry, that’s the profession of the man who took your wife. I so hope I’m not touching a raw nerve here.)
Anyway, Bill, I’m sure you can imagine my surprise when I conducted my research and discovered that the interfering busybody has a daughter of his own. An angel, seventeen years old, blonde, beautiful and—if I may be so bold, Bill—incredibly sexy as well! Young and nubile, perfect in every way. I will be teaching her how to please men and to serve them, how to obey their every whim. My contacts will pay handsomely for that.
So, thank you, Bill, for your role, however accidental, in orchestrating my knowledge of and meeting with your delectable daughter. I would much prefer professing my gratitude in person, but for obvious reasons, that can never happen. Please know in your heart that I will watch over my beloved Carli diligently and tirelessly. She is truly my princess, and after leaving my side, will no doubt serve honorably, wherever she ends up. Of that, you may rest assured.
Sincerely,
Your grateful friend
Bill’s panic mounted steadily as he read the letter until he sat frozen in terror after reaching the end. He glanced at Carli, who had been reading along with him. Her face was bone-white. “Oh God, Dad. It’s him. It’s him. Now he’s after me!”
Bill stumbled to the phone, hands trembling, struggling to keep the contents of his stomach from spewing out onto the floor, while at the kitchen table, Carli buried her head in her hands. He rifled through his wallet, bills fluttering to the floor, finally locating the business card Special Agent Canfield had given him. He punched in the number and waited impatiently, swearing at the delay as the line rang on the other end. Where was Canfield?
CHAPTER 21
SPECIAL AGENT ANGELA CANFIELD leaned over Bill’s kitchen table, studying the letter intently. After calling Canfield, Bill had driven Carli home, telling Sandra only that their daughter had had an encounter with the I-90 Killer and not to let her out of the house until she heard from the police. Then, he had driven home to meet with the FBI Special Agent.
She read the letter all the way through without speaking, then immediately returned to the beginning and read it again. Bill watched without interrupting but wanted to see some action. He was nervous and impatient and pretty certain the letter wasn’t going to say anything different on the second read-through than it had on the first.
Canfield leaned back and looked at the ceiling, lost in thought. “We’re going to need to speak with Carli,” she said, almost as if talking to herself. “And Carli’s friend, of course. What was her name again?” She finally looked at Bill.
“Lauren.”
“Yes, Lauren. We’ll need to talk with both girls as soon as possible.”
“Of course,” Bill answered. “But what can we do about ensuring Carli’s safety right now? This lunatic approached her on the street and could have snatched her right then and there.”
Canfield nodded. “We’re way ahead of you. We have already established a police presence outside your ex-wife’s home. Carli won’t be out of their sight. She will be perfectly safe, Mr. Ferguson.”
“Bill.”
“Okay, Bill. We’ll make sure she’s safe. I don’t believe she is really in any significant danger, anyway.”
Bill raised his eyebrows, stunned. “How can you say that? Didn’t you read that letter? What the hell have you been doing for the last ten minutes?”
Agent Canfield raised her hands in a calm down gesture. “Whoa, easy, Bill. Yes, I read the letter, twice in fact, but think about it. If he really wanted to kidnap Carli, his best chance would have been today, before she knew who he was and what he looked like. He had to know that, once you read his letter, you would react exactly as you did. Police and FBI would be notified, protection would be established, the letter would be analyzed. We’ll need to take this, by the way, for forensic analysis. This is not a stupid man, Mr. Ferg—Bill. Impulsive and rash sometimes, sure. Psychotic and delusional, definitely. But stupid? No.
“I believe his intention was to throw a scare into you. To establish payback, so to speak, for interfering with his abduction of Allie Serrano, the young girl you saved at the rest area. Obviously, we will have forensics and a psych team analyze the letter, but it is my opinion that the I-90 Killer has accomplished his objective—taunting you—and will now move on to his next victim, and that victim will not be Carli Ferguson.”
Bill was quiet. It was his turn to think. What Canfield said made a certain amount of sense. After all, if nothing else, Carli was now well aware exactly what the I-90 Killer looked like—assuming, of course, he hadn’t been wearing a disguise this afternoon, and it sounded as though he had not—and he would never again be able to get close to her as easily as he had today.