Buxton’s uncharacteristically harsh tone reflected exasperation. “We need answers, dammit.”
“We’re working on it, sir,” a woman Nina had seen on the team of cryptanalysts said.
“Any progress?”
She squirmed uncomfortably under his withering glare. “Nothing definitive yet. We believe ‘the keeper of the light’ may refer to a lighthouse keeper, and he was recently active in Boston, so we’re checking coastal towns in New England to see what other factors in the poem match existing structures. We’ll keep you apprised of any developments.”
Buxton swiveled to train his gaze on another agent sitting farther down the table. “And what about the flight manifests?”
“There were no duplicate names listed as traveling between any of the three cities on the affected dates,” he said. “But now we know he has access to fake documents and disguises, so he could potentially fly under different names and have different appearances to match each identity.”
“Or he might not have flown at all,” Nina said.
“We can’t ask local law enforcement across the country to check for data on subjects or traffic stops without giving them a name or even a description,” Kent said.
A short, stocky blonde woman seated next to Breck lifted her hand. “I might be able to help with that.”
Buxton acknowledged her. “For those of you who haven’t met her, this is Emmeline Baker. She’s in charge of the Trace Evidence Unit.”
A unit chief was another unexpected addition to the meeting, again marking the gravity of the situation and the highly public and time-sensitive nature of the investigation.
“We figured out how he disguised his ethnicity in Boston,” Baker said. “Spray tan. Extra dark.” She tipped her head toward Nina. “The residue was found in the sample collected from Agent Guerrera’s nails.”
“Black wig, brown contact lenses, dark skin,” Wade said. “Throw in a Public Works uniform, and he’s unrecognizable.”
Baker nodded. “He’s proven he can operate in a crowded area where everyone is looking for him. It means he can move around with impunity.” She let that sink in before continuing. “I have an update on the fiber match as well. As we discussed during our last call, we resubmitted samples found at the DC and San Francisco scenes, as well as from Agent Guerrera’s abduction case, this time specifically comparing them to the unique set of fibers found in the Beltway Stalker series.”
“The fibers from the gloves?” Nina asked.
“It’s the only consistent evidence we have,” Baker said. “Once we knew what to look for, we were able to find almost microscopic filaments with enough detail to provide a conclusive match for all three crime scenes attributed to the Cipher. The Boston case gave us the break we needed. There was far less cross contamination and nowhere near as much scrubbing of the body as in the two prior murders.”
“So the Cipher and the Beltway Stalker are definitely the same person?” Nina said, anxious to nail Baker down. They had debated whether the Cipher had been the Beltway Stalker’s partner, laying low for a couple of years before striking out on his own. “You’re saying we can bring charges against the unsub for thirty-nine murders and an abduction?”
Baker held up a hand. “I can go so far as to say identical fibers, which come from a unique source, were found at each scene. That’s as far as the science will take us. I couldn’t take the stand and testify that the same perpetrator was responsible for every crime based on the trace evidence we have at this point.”
No matter what Baker said, how precisely she couched her summary of the findings, she had just confirmed what Nina had already accepted as fact. First, the man who now called himself the Cipher was also the Beltway Stalker. Second, the FBI had mistakenly identified a man who died two years ago as the Beltway Stalker. Third, the same man had abducted her eleven years ago.
Buxton’s jaw muscles bunched. “Nothing about that leaves this room, understood?”
She sympathized. Despite his previous refusal to make the leap, Buxton had clearly come to the same conclusions she had. He was the supervisory special agent for BAU 3. The unit chief who oversaw the profilers who worked with field agents and local law enforcement during the Beltway Stalker investigation. The BAU’s reputation had taken a hit when Chandra Brown died, and soon the public would learn that her killer was still at large, continuing his murderous rampage on a bigger stage. Buxton would be front and center for the inevitable backlash.
His dark eyes traversed the length of the table before stopping on Wade. “Anything to add to your 302?”
Wade would have submitted a 302, the FBI’s official form for documenting investigations, after their interview with Sorrentino.
“Nothing,” Wade said. “Did you get the attachment with the club’s fight schedule?”
Buxton nodded. “Forwarded it to Breck last night.”
All eyes swiveled to Breck, who appeared to have been waiting for her cue. “I have a graphic.” Computer keys clacked under her fingers as the projected image of a chart appeared on the wall across from her. “We generated a program and populated the data points to find a nexus between fighters and victims.”
A red pinpoint of light swept up and down the left side of the graph with a list of fighters on the vertical axis. Names of victims ran along a horizontal timeline on the bottom. Green dots marked the boxes where some intersected. Nina could see that Breck had compared the times when fighters were unaccounted for with the times of death for the Beltway Stalker victims.
“We attempted to cross-reference the names with the times of each murder,” Breck said. “The ones in green represent victims of the Beltway Stalker.” She clicked another key, and a new chart popped up. “Here are the same fighters’ schedules matched with the times of disappearance for the Cipher’s victims.” This time, the dots were blue. Even without overlaying the two graphs, Nina could tell there would be hundreds of data points containing both colored dots.
“I’ll combine them on a new chart.” Breck hesitated before adding, “Using only blue dots.”
Breck had made it clear that anyone who felt the cases should be kept separate should speak up now. The team exchanged glances, but no one objected. In that moment, the investigation turned a corner. Nina knew Kent harbored doubts, but they had all tacitly agreed to move forward on the premise that the Beltway Stalker and the Cipher were the same person.
Nina gazed at the graphic. The lives of young girls, lives that had held so much promise and so much suffering, had been reduced to data points on a chart. Anger coursed through her as she witnessed the swath of destruction left by a monster who thought he could use human beings and throw them away like trash.
“Some of the older murders have a possible time of death that spans a few days or weeks,” Breck said. “So we could only use the ones with a more precise window for the purpose of narrowing down the list.” She moved the dot to the bottom of the screen. “Given those restrictions, we can definitively eliminate seventeen men from the list. That leaves more than two hundred potential suspects. And that’s if we only consider fighters as opposed to other people working at the club.”