After a few more minutes she got a response to her query for her unidentified mystery print lifted from the duct tape.
The print was out of California.
The query had been run through an array of Californias systems, the California Law Enforcement Telecommunication System, Californias DMV, the Department of Corrections, including the Parole Law Enforcement Automated Data System, and the Automated Criminal History System, which could verify parolee history, offender identification, arrest records, convictions, holds and commitments for all California law enforcement agencies, even create All Points Bulletins and drop warrants.
The single hit identified the prints from the duct tape. The face of a white male appeared on her monitor, and Mae read the accompanying information, then hurriedly went to the subjects central file summary to search for offenses.
It was blank.
His prints were on record because hed once been charged for a misdemeanor drunk driving offense, but the charge had been dropped because the blood test results were lost.
Maes supervisor had cleared her to call the primary detective immediately once she had a hit, so she reached for her telephone. The line was answered on the second ring.
Tilden.
Detective Marv Tilden?
Thats me.
Mae Clarke with the latent print section. We got a match on a print from the duct tape in your case. Ready to copy?
Go.
Jerricko Titus Blaine. Ill send you the spelling.
Got it.
Age, twenty-three. Last known address, Dallas, Texas.
His sheet?
Hes clean. A misdemeanor drunk driving charge that was dropped. Ill send you everything Ive got, DOB, height, weight, et cetera.
Thanks, Mae.
After sending Jerricko Blaines file to Tilden, Mae finished her water, then let out a long breath.
Now weve got a lead, something to work with.
She was preparing to return to her other cases when her computer pinged.
Another hit?
She wondered if Jerricko Blaine popped up in another jurisdiction, but instead it was a new hit-one from Lori Fultons prints.
Maes brow creased when she read the notice.
She reached for her phone to call Detective Tilden again.
26
New York Thruway
Dans grip tightened on the wheel.
I need gas, he said.
No, you dont, Vic said. You started with a full tank.
Im telling you, I need gas! Dan stared at the gauge, so Vic could see through the camera that the needle had dropped into the red zone. Look!
No response from Vic.
Dan had just left New Jersey. He was heading northbound on the New York Thruway, and was somewhere between Suffern and Sloatsburg, an hour out of New York Citys frenzy. Here, the metropolis had conceded to rivers, rock formations and undulating oceans of trees. The highway wound through the rolling hills, further isolating him and deepening his fear that hed never see Lori and Billy again.
Are they alive?
He felt dwarfed by the vastness of the region, the Catskills rising around him.
Wherere they sending me? Whatre they going to do?
His heart pounded against the sweaty confines of the bomb vest, and all he had to pass the time were his own terrified thoughts. While he couldnt make any sense of who these guys were or why theyd chosen him. Could it be about someone his branch had dealings with? Maybe tied to an insurance cheat, someone Lori dealt with? One thing he did know was that Vic and his gang were planning something beyond the robbery.
Why would they make me drive across New Jersey and back into New York with the money? Why not just take it and let us go?
Dan dragged the back of his trembling hand over his mouth.
Its as if they know I dont have the guts to fight back. That Im a coward. These people are going to kill us all, and Im just going to let it happen. God help me.
His eyes strayed to the bag on the passenger floor, bulging with the cash.
At some point they were going to take the money from him. Thats when Dan would have to make a decision-to give up or to fight for his familys life.
He studied the traffic in his side and rearview mirrors, eyeing an SUV, a delivery truck and two late-model sedans that trailed behind him.
Is Vic in one of them?
He didnt know their vehicle or how close they were. He didnt even know if they were keeping Lori and Billy with them.
I want to talk to my family, he said.
Shut up and keep driving, Vic said.
I need to know theyre alive, or Ill go to police, I swear! If theyre already dead Ive got nothing to lose.
A long silence passed. Then he heard a commotion in his ear and his heart swelled.
Dad?
The connection was filled with static as if patched from a radio to a cell phone.
Billy! Son, are you hurt?
Dad, you gotta just do what they say!
Dans head swiveled to look at the traffic around him, desperate to catch some glimpse of his son in a nearby car.
Billy, where are you?
Another bleat of confusion, then over the scratchy air he heard his wifes voice.
Dan, just listen to them. Do what they say!
A disturbance filled his ear. Then nothing.
Lori? Lori! Blinking quickly, Dan took a deep breath and adjusted his hold on the wheel and himself.
Theyre alive, Dan, Vic said calmly. Now just keep doing what we tell you to do and youll see them soon. The next exit comes up in two miles. Take it. Go east to the gas station called Weldons.
A quarter mile from the exit, down a forlorn rural road that cut through fields with horses and cows on one side and a few rusting cars on the other, Dan came to Weldons Gas and Grocery.
Four pumps stood out front of the buildings weathered wooden walls. A faded metal awning stretched over the Coke and ice machines. Tires were neatly stacked next to a pyramid of motor oil. A neon sign over the door said Open, while one above the pumps said Self-Serv.
Two vehicles were parked at the edge of the paved lot. A pickup with a dented fender and a van with a small banner reading: Derecks Electric. Several cars and trucks whizzed by the station. Dan scrutinized them. Before getting out he was stopped by Vics orders.
Pay with cash, he said. I saw a ball cap in the car-put it on, play it smart and everything will go smoothly.
The Stars and Stripes flapped as Dan fueled the Fords tank.
He went inside to pay, walking up to a man with a full white beard who stood behind the counter.
All Im saying, Roy, is I wont use that type for bluegill or smallmouth, said a man in overalls, who was leaning against the counter, sipping from a take-out coffeecup.
Just the gas today, friend? the bearded man behind the counter said to Dan.
Dan nodded, placed the cash on the counter. May I use your restroom?
Just around the corner.
As Dan started for the room, a man wearing a flannel work shirt rushed from the area, muttering to himself. As he passed Dan, he called out: I know I got that part in my truck, Roy, be right back.
Well, its not like Im going anywhere.
Hey, Hank. The man in the overalls winked. Alice have the baby yet?
Doctor said anytime, I tell you- Hank continued talking while outside, something about no sleep.
Dan rounded the corner to see that Hank had been working on an outlet between the entrances to the mens and womens restrooms. A large open tool box was on a shelf between the two rooms.
Dan knew Vic could see whatever he saw.
Dan looked away from the toolbox, keeping his eyes ahead on the bathroom door as he made his way down the hall. As he passed close to the shelf, he reached out and took two small items from the tool tray, shoving them in his pocket while still keeping his eyes-and Vics view-straight ahead. In the restroom, while standing alone at the urinal, Dan used one hand to reach into his pocket and uncap the felt-tipped marker hed stolen from the box. His heart rate was galloping, but he kept his eyes forward as he began scrawling on the metal wall of the stall. The ongoing rush of flushing water drowned out any sound from the pen as he wrote as fast as he could-hoping it would be legible since he wouldnt be able to check it.
After finishing, Dan washed his hands, feeling the bulk of the vest. Then he dried them and returned to his car and resumed driving northbound on the Thruway.
After hed gone several miles, he was careful to keep his eyes on the road while he retrieved the second item from his pocket, lowered his left hand and slowly pulled up the trouser cuff of his left leg. Keeping the rest of his body still, he positioned the item hed stolen from the tool box and tucked it into his left sock.
His heart was pounding as he replaced his hand on the wheel, confident Vic hadnt seen the actions hed taken, now or back at the gas station.
As he drove farther upstate, he tightened his grip on the wheel.
As he drove farther upstate, he tightened his grip on the wheel.
Im not going down without a fight.
27
Manhattan, New York
Kates cab moved along West 40th Street.
Her mystery caller had provided no details on Lori Fulton over the phone but was willing to meet in Bryant Park, only a short cab ride from Newslead.
Kate didnt know what to make of the womans call. Over the years shed encountered all sorts of tipsters-people who were lonely, people demanding money, conspiracy nuts, mystics, weirdoes and creeps. Kate had seen all kinds.
Most were a waste of time.
In every case, when callers insisted on meeting, Kate weighed the circumstances carefully. Tips were the lifeblood of any news operation. No reporter, if they were any good, dismissed them. You never knew which tip, no matter how it came to you, could break a story wide-open.
And time was ticking on the Fulton story.
It had been several hours since the robbery that morning, and they still hadnt found a trace of the family or the money. Kate needed to take readers deeper into the story, but while she had some threads on the Fultons, she had no firm leads.
Trusting her instincts, she decided to meet this woman who claimed to know the truth about Lori Fulton. Other than wasting her time, the risk was low. They would be at a public place and it was midday. Still, she remained a bit wary when she got out of the cab on Sixth Avenue.
Bryant Park sat in the heart of Midtown behind the New York Public Librarys main branch, on ten acres of beautiful green lawn. It was bordered with gardens and trees sheltering tables and chairs, offering a tranquil outdoor café setting, an urban oasis amid glass and steel skyscrapers. People dotted the great lawn, reading or napping; some were picnicking.