Nina bent to examine the screen closely. A muscular blond man with eyes an indeterminate shade of blue and a chiseled face stared back at her. Her blood chilled. Had she imagined the flatness in his expression, or was that an artifact of the computer generated–imaging process? Either way, the effect was an accurate depiction of the soulless eyes that had gazed down at her through the holes in the mask.
For the span of a moment that lasted an eternity, she fell into the depths of those pitiless eyes. Her pulse pounded in her ears. Cracks spiderwebbed across her carefully constructed inner walls as she struggled to hide her reaction. Transfixed, she stared at the Cipher. Her monster. The man who had nearly destroyed her. The beast who had wrenched her apart and exposed her torment to the world.
Kent rested a hand on her shoulder. “You okay?”
She whirled to face him. “Fine.”
She took a step back, creating emotional and physical distance. His piercing cobalt gaze penetrated her. Kent had a vast amount of experience in the field. He knew how to read body language. She could not afford to have him psychoanalyze her. If he suspected how much seeing the Cipher’s face had disturbed her, he might say something to Buxton or—worse yet—try to comfort her. Throughout her life, she had contended with abuse, neglect, and rejection. These she could handle, but warmth and compassion would undo her.
She deliberately turned away from Kent to address Breck. “From the little I saw of him, that looks right.”
Nina felt the weight of Kent’s scrutiny as he kept his attention on her, but he made no further comment.
Breck bent closer to the monitor and studied the image of the Cipher. “It’s hard to capture evil in a picture, but this guy comes as close as anybody I’ve ever seen. You can tell he’s mean as a snake just by looking at him.”
Nina didn’t want to spend another moment staring into those cold, cruel eyes. “I’m getting restless. He’s out there planning his next move. We need to make ours first.”
“I just read the report on the sister.” Wade had strolled over to join them. “Her name’s Anna Grable, and she’s a bit of an enigma. Received a doctorate in physics and another in astronomy, both from Johns Hopkins University in Baltimore.”
Unexpected. A psycho killer’s sister had a passion for studying outer space. “Where does Anna work?”
“That’s part of the mystery. She hasn’t held a job for fifteen years. She’s never been married or had kids, and she lives alone on a ten-acre parcel in the suburbs of Baltimore that she inherited from her parents.”
“What did you find out about the parents?”
“From what we can gather, the mother has no record of having given birth to any children. It’s possible that the sister is a result of an in vitro fertilization of a surrogate mother, but we can’t be sure at this point.”
Nina was perplexed. “A legal adoption?”
“None that we can access so far. Buxton’s prepped local field agents in every city where there’s a subject with a familial DNA match to conduct interviews,” he said. “I’m sure we’ll find out more once they finish speaking to Anna.”
Nina chafed at the idea of someone besides her interviewing the Cipher’s only known full sibling. It would be a hard sell for her to go instead of the local field agents, but every cop instinct she possessed told her this was the fastest path to the truth about her quarry. “I want to interview Anna Grable in person. If I see her, something about her might trigger a memory. Baltimore’s about a two-hour drive from here, so it will cost us the rest of the day, but I think it’s worth it to put eyeballs on her.”
“I want to go with,” Breck said. “I can take pictures of her head from every angle. Since she’s a full-blooded sister, her underlying facial structure might help refine the imaging process.”
“She’s the best lead we’ve got.” Nina leveled Wade with a determined stare. “I’m going to ask Buxton to let us conduct the interview.” She emphasized the word us. “I’ll request an FBIP driver and one of our fleet vans so we can keep working on the road. Will you back me up?”
The FBI Police unit stationed at Quantico was normally tasked with facility protection but could be detailed for other assignments as needed. She was asking Wade to trust her instincts. Asking him as a partner rather than an adjunct to his investigation. His response would tell her more about the working relationship they had forged than anything else he’d said up to this point.
He regarded her for a long moment, then turned toward Buxton’s office as he responded to her question over his shoulder. “Grab your briefcase.”
Chapter 34
Nina had vacillated between edgy anticipation and utter boredom during the two-hour ride to Towson, Maryland. Buxton, opting to hold down the fort at Quantico, had arranged for the team to travel in a Mercedes-Benz Sprinter van outfitted with enough technical gadgetry to bring a smile to Breck’s lips. Their driver, an FBI police officer Nina recognized from ID checks at the entry gate to the grounds at Quantico, was ensconced in the partitioned driver’s compartment up front. He eased the van to a halt in front of a midcentury rambler on a spacious chunk of land, waiting with the vehicle as the team traversed the gravel driveway to the front porch.
Nina lifted her hand to knock when the door flew open. A slender woman with pale eyes and stringy blonde hair stood on the threshold. She wore a floppy knit cap, an oversize cotton top that fell to her knees, and Birkenstocks on her brightly stockinged feet.
Nina held up her creds. “Special Agent Nina Guerrera, FBI.” She gestured to the group standing behind her. “Special Agents Wade, Kent, and Breck. Are you Anna Grable?”
The team had agreed that Nina would initiate contact this time. Judging by the woman’s fearful reaction, it had been a good call. The sight of Kent standing directly in front of her might have made her faint.
Her wide, anxious eyes darted to each of them in turn. “I’m Anna, and I know why you’re here.” She stood aside and motioned them in.
After exchanging bewildered glances, they trooped through the foyer into the living room. A mustard-yellow sofa with the backrest covered in a crocheted throw and two mismatched armchairs surrounded a burled wood coffee table that was the height of stylish good taste. In 1967.
Nina sandwiched herself between Kent and Wade on the sofa while Breck perched on one of the wingbacks.
“You say you know why we’re here?” Nina asked. If an interviewee volunteered information, she made it a practice to let them talk.
Anna took the remaining armchair. “You don’t have to pretend. I’ve been expecting you.” She gave them each another perusal, this time much slower. “I have to admit you all have done a good job. The dark suits give you away, though, if you don’t mind my saying.”
“Suits?” Wade asked.
Anna gave him a knowing wink. “You should try blue jeans and a button-down shirt next time. Maybe plaid or paisley. You’d blend right in.”
Nina had the feeling they were speaking at cross purposes. “Ms. Grable, exactly who do you believe we are?”
“You might as well call me Anna. No sense in pretending you don’t know everything about me.”