Chapter Seven

Dane stood at the window.  Thoughtful, he watched as a group of people stopped at a crosswalk. The light turned red. Everyone crossed.  Another group gathered and crossed, followed by another. Dane's mind was racing with thoughts. "Had he done enough? Was he adequately prepared for this meeting? Would they understand what he believed to be true? Would the Tuesday/Thursday clue be enough to convince them they had a national serial killer on the loose? He'd been active for years. They had to catch him! He WOULD kill another innocent woman!" Dane couldn't face the thought of having to speak to one more devastated family; one more heartbroken child; one more lost husband. He promised himself he would find this psychopath!

Dane turned away from the window. Absently he pushed the button automatically closing the blackout blinds. He walked up to the first of four whiteboards in the room. He wrote the words  "Eleven Victims" across the top of the board, in large red letters. He drew a thick line underneath. He wrote numbers one through eleven down the left side of the board. In smaller black lettering, he began to write each woman's name next to each number.  He put the women's names in ascending order based upon their date of her disappearance.  

On the second whiteboard Dane wrote the Word, Tuesday, in large red letters. He began to write the name of each woman who went missing on a Tuesday. On the third whiteboard he wrote Thursday. Underneath, he wrote the names of every woman who had been abducted on a Thursday. On the fourth whiteboard, he wrote the word QUESTIONS in bold red letters. He left the remainder of the board blank.  Standing back, he viewed his work, assessing its impact on the men who would be entering the room.

The room was furnished with three  white topped tables, divided and angled like the tip of an arrow. Each table held twelve seats. Twelve black chairs were neatly tucked into place; awaiting twelve eager occupants. Each table was positioned to give the occupants the clearest view of the whiteboards hanging logistically on the walls. Small white speakers hung at the ceiling in every corner of the room. They were attached by Bluetooth technology to the small microphone resting on a thin white podium; placed strategically between the first two whiteboards in front of the well spaced tables.

Dane neatly wrote out each woman's name on a piece of clear tape. He stuck each piece in front of a chair, at the top of the first table. Below the tape, he placed a folding file with a five by seven picture of that victim carefully taped to the front of it.  Her name and date of disappearance were printed at the bottom. Along the spine of each folder, was each woman's official date of death. The visual effect he was creating was powerful.

Dane was doing his best to visually connect these women through his presentation design. Each name on the first whiteboard connected to one of the other two. They all connected to a case jacket laid at an empty seat. It was a stark reminder to everyone in the meeting room - these women were absent. They were gone. They weren't in the room with them - But, their killer was! Somewhere in the case files, somewhere in the facts; somewhere in the points of connection Dane couldn't see, their killer lived. Whether he could make them understand or not, Dane vowed he would pursue this killer until he found him; no matter how long it took! He wouldn't let this man escape justice. His sister's killer had gotten away, but that was exactly why he had chosen this job. He simply couldn't fail! 

Dane made a pot of coffee in the machine at the back of the room. He made sure there were ample cups and supplies. He thought about the woman he had nearly run down in the hallway. She had instantly seen the connection he had missed. He had focused on every detail about these women for weeks. Yet, he'd missed the most obvious connection between them. Had he missed anything else this obvious?  The redhead had been stunning though; beyond beautiful. Her badge had identified her as a Behavioral Analyst. If Dane was given authorization to create a task force, he wanted her on it! If he wasn't given the authority, maybe he could take her for lunch and ask for her help? What could it hurt? There had to be more he was missing! He was too close to this case and he knew it. Yet, he couldn't force himself to step back.  The victims in the case drew him deeper and deeper towards the precipice of career suicide. Logically he knew this. Emotionally, he was on a runaway train.

Dane took one last look at the conference room.  His meeting was still two hours away. He had time for a nervous lunch. He turned off the lights and closed the door. He  flipped the occupied sign as he thought about his lunch. He wouldn't eat heavy. He was too anxious for a large meal. Several restaurants in the area offered delivery service but he needed a break. Driving helped him clear his mind and steady his emotions. Panera offered healthy soup and sandwiches. He loved their Turkey and avocado.  Decidedly he moved to the elevator and pushed the down button to the garage. A nice driven would give him a fresh perspective. He'd walk into the afternoon meeting confident; exuding contagious enthusiasm. He would convince them he needed a task force!

Sarai sat in front of her computer. She'd had an unusual encounter that morning. She silently wondered if it had anything to do with the meeting Assistant Deputy Director Whay had assigned her to? The gentleman who had collided with her had been jumpy; on edge. He was so focused on the office trolley he pushed, he hadn't even seen her. He ran down the hall like his shoes were burning. His face was etched with worried concentration. He was strangely exuberant when they parted. He had even asked if he could call her; though he hadn't waited for her answer. Odd.

Sarai hoped she wasn't going to be asked to assist in another employee termination. Her talents were better utilized as a profiler. She had been the best profiler Boston P.D had seen. Her six year tenure there had helped catch thirty-seven cold case murderers and a family annihilator. She felt underused working for The Federal Bureau of Investigations. Although she'd only been a Behavioral Analyst for a little over a year, she had imagined the job so differently. She had accepted the position, imagining all of  the interesting cases she would be providing support in solving. So far she had been limited to training and assisting The Cincinnati Police Department with cold case missing persons. She felt unfulfilled as an analyst. Her desire to move beyond cold case files pushed her to want more. Her ambition caused boredom in the jobs she was being asked to perform. 

Sarai hated being the "support person", for fired agents. She was responsible for waiting with them as security responded to escort them out of the building.  Employees weren't let go very often, but when they were, Sarai somehow found herself stuck right in the process. She ran a frustrated hand through her Auburn hair and sighed. Her education could be utilized better than that. It should be! Her talents could do so much more good. She knew she'd only worked at this office for a year, but hadn't she already proven herself?  Irritated, she glanced at the clock on her desk and quickly decided to head for the downstairs gym. She needed a good run.