Page 104 of Line of Sight
Dan patted his knee. “Good for you.”
Silence fell for a moment, but that felt right.
“Dan, about your gift….”
His stomach clenched. “Yes?”
“Can… can you sense anything about him?”
Dan’s face tightened. “Nothing. I hate being in the dark like this.” He gazed at his phone. “Wherever they are, King has removed the battery from Gary’s phone. We can’t detect it. They could be anywhere.” He sipped his hot chocolate, hoping its warmth and sweetness would ease his roiling stomach.
“I want to hear more about the cases you helped solve in New York and Chicago.”
Dan let out a wry chuckle. “What you really mean is, ‘Talk to me about anything, Dan, so you’re not thinking about Gary.’”
Riley blinked. “Wow. I’m that transparent?”
He patted Riley’s knee again. “Only because I know you. Sure, I can talk about that.”
Anything was better than being left with his own thoughts, and sleep wasn’t even on the horizon. Dan would talk all night long if it meant he could ignore his imagination.
Because he could imagine quite a lot, and none of it was good.
Chapter Sixty-Nine
Monday, January 28, 2019
7:00 a.m.
DAN’S EYELIDSfelt as though lead weights were attached to them, and there was pain across his eyes and temples. He reckoned he’d had maybe an hour or two of sleep. He’d dozed fitfully on the couch, Riley in the armchair.
The pinging of his phone was like a splash of icy water on his face.
Dan grabbed it, to find a WhatsApp message.
The game’s afoot, Watson. I’m assuming Detective Watson is also on this case? Well, I’m afraid you’re going to have to leave him behind for this trip, Mr. Porter. Come alone. I repeat, alone. And you’d better hurry. The clock is ticking. You can hear it, can’t you?
Dan shook Riley’s shoulder. “King’s gotten in touch.” He handed him the phone.
Riley rubbed his eyes and squinted at the screen. “Hurry where, though?”
“Let’s see if he’ll give us a clue.” Dan took back the phone and typed.
How is Gary?
The response wasn’t immediate, which only served to ramp up Dan’s already growing anxiety. Then it came through. He read it aloud: “Gary is a little weighed down this morning. You know, now that I see him up close, I’m not so sure he’s a redhead. His hair seems more Auburn to me. But enough of these pleasantries. It’s time to hurry. No tracks to follow thistime. No traffic to stop either. And no ring on his finger. You should have done that while you had the chance, Mr. Porter. You obviously didn’t have the sand for it.”
Dan gaped at the screen.What the fuck?
Riley snorted. “Is this supposed to help us find him?”
“There has to besomethingin this message,” Dan retorted. “This guy likes to play games, remember? So he’s not going to make it easy. Think. Does any of it connect in any way to a thriller?”
Riley held his hand out. “Give it here. Let me see it.” Dan handed it over, and he stared at the message, his brows furrowed, eyebrows scrunched together. Then he stilled, and Dan’s heartbeat quickened. “Wait a minute. Wait a fuckingminute.”
Dan said nothing, not wanting to disturb Riley’s thought processes.
At last Riley met his gaze. “Some of this rings a bell. That part about tracks, stopping traffic, a ring….” He let out a gasp and face-palmed. “I’ve got it. This is the first murder fromThe Bone Collector. This dude is buried alive in this canyon where the trains run. The only part of him that’s visible is his hand sticking up out of the ground—with his wife’s ring on his finger. In the book, the cop stops a train so they don’t mess up the crime scene.”
