Part 20 (1/2)
That's when her cell rang.
Oh, no. Please, no...
It wasn't her personal phone. That she could've ignored. This was her satellite-encrypted work phone, property of the FBI.
On the other end was her boss, Dan Driesen, and he wasn't calling just to say hi. He'd already sent his congratulatory e-mail for the Kingslip capture. This was something else.
”Sarah. Need you back here for a briefing,” he said. ”Fast. Today.”
In person, Driesen was relatively easygoing and patient. On certain subjects-government bureaucracy, fly fis.h.i.+ng, or cla.s.sic cars, for instance-he could even talk your ear off.
But on the phone, he was like a talking telegram.
”Three homicides submitted to ViCAP from three different states,” he continued. ”All pointing toward a lone serial killer on the move.”
ViCAP stood for Violent Criminal Apprehension Program, the FBI's national inventory of every violent crime committed in the United States.
”Over what time period are we talking?” asked Sarah.
”Two weeks.”
”That's fast.”
”Superfast.”
”Three murders?”
”Yep.”
”Three different states?”
”So far,” said Driesen.
”What's the connection?”
”The victims,” he answered. ”They all have the same name. O'Hara. d.a.m.ndest thing I've ever heard.”
Chapter 31
THE SANDWICHES WERE a dead giveaway.
Sarah had attended countless briefings conducted by Dan Driesen, and not once had he provided anything remotely edible for the occasion. No m.u.f.fins or bagels, no cookies or anything else to snack on. Certainly no sandwiches, not ever. It just wasn't his style. You want catered briefings? Go work for Martha Stewart.
Yet there they were. Sandwiches in the center of the conference room table.