Page 52 of The Catcher
To which someone replied, “Somewhere warm. South. Central Park.” The other girl laughed.
“That’s not warm.”
“Warmer than here.”
Laughter erupted, and then the recording cut off. Noah rewound and played it again.
“What have we got?” Porter asked, his gaze fixed on Noah.
“I’m not quite sure,” Noah admitted, a sense of confusionclouding his thoughts. He couldn’t shake the feeling that this recording held a more profound significance, perhaps another puzzle to unravel. One thing was clear: the last time they encountered this on the mountain, they weren’t given coordinates but a puzzle to solve.
16
The team of investigators had reconvened at the State Police Department, gathering in the cramped IT room that resembled a miniature NASA control center. Multiple monitors flickered with data, and the whirring of server fans filled the air, making the room feel stuffier than ever with everyone crowded inside.
Rishi Gupta, their tech expert, was hunched over a computer, his fingers flying across the keyboard as he tried to isolate background noise and conversations from the tape.
McKenzie entered the room, his expression determined. “Just got off the phone with NYC,” he announced, his voice cutting through the hum of activity. “They’re sending the boys in blue over to Central Park to see what they can find. Though I think they’ve got their work cut out for them. That place is swarming with geocaches.”
Porter furrowed his brow. “You really think that’s where our perp is pointing?”
McKenzie nodded firmly. “For sure. It was as clear as day on that tape. Hey, Noah?”
Noah, immersed in his task, pulled off his headphones to listen to what McKenzie had to say. “What?” he replied, his attention divided between the conversation and the snippets of the recording he was analyzing.
“The tape. It points to Central Park,” McKenzie reiterated.
“At the summit, he didn’t give us coordinates. However, he did point us to a location,” Noah interjected, his brow furrowing in thought.
McKenzie raised a hand, signaling for everyone to listen. “There we go. He pointed us to a location. I’d say an hour or two from now, NYC will be back in contact to say they found the kid either alive or dead.”
“However, it was local,” Noah added, a note of concern in his voice.
“What are you saying?” McKenzie pressed, his eyes narrowing in confusion.
“I’m saying, I don’t think the Banning boy will be found in the city,” Noah replied, his mind racing with possibilities.
“But he’s literally handed us the location,” McKenzie argued. “There are no coordinates or any indication of where it would be but that.”
Noah’s expression was troubled. “That’s what concerns me. There’s something more to this; I just don’t know what.”
Before anyone could respond, Rishi’s voice cut through the tension. “Noah. I think I’ve got something.”
Noah wasted no time, quickly slipping the headset back on, eager to hear what Rishi had discovered.
As Rishi played back the recording, Noah listened intently, focusing on the faint sound Rishi had identified as a name. After several repetitions, Noah’s ears caught the name. “Mr. Horris or Morris?”
“Right,” Rishi confirmed. “I cross-checked those names with various locations in the area and found a hit on an oldAdirondack Daily Enterprisearticle from 2016 about a camp. It’s located by a body of water, and William Morris, the founder of a famous agency for celebrities, originally built it.”
As Rishi showed Google images of the camp, Noah’s eyes widened. He recognized the mansion beside the water and a sizeable bell outside.
“Camp Colby,” Noah murmured, a sense of urgency creeping into his voice. “That’s just on the outskirts of Saranac Lake.”
Rishi nodded.
Noah rose to his feet and clapped Rishi on the shoulder in appreciation. “Well done, Rishi. Keep me updated if you find anything else.”
He nodded.
