“They’re operating under the assumption that it’s a phoenix,” Shawna said.
“What will they do now?”
“First, they need to determine what location this refers to. There are cities named Phoenix in Arizona, Illinois, Louisiana, Maryland, Michigan, New York, and Oregon. And that’s only in the US.”
“Surely he’s referring to Arizona,” Chen said, frowning. “It’s the only big city in the group.”
“It seems likely,” Shawna said. “But we’re covering all bases.”
Nina tore her eyes from the monitor to look at Wade, who had been the one to recommend Arizona as the most likely location. He had studied the Cipher’s past patterns and—like Chen—had concluded that he seemed to prefer large cities where he could blend in. Nina thought she caught a wistful smile on Wade’s face as he focused on Shawna.
“I also see this clue doesn’t provide specifics about where the killer will strike,” Chen said.
“In the past, he named the exact spot where a body was recovered,” Shawna said. “This time, it’s a whole city, and—if it turns out to be Phoenix, Arizona—that means over five hundred square miles of urban and desert terrain.”
“Seems like he’s being more deceptive. There’s no way to cover that kind of area.” Chen gestured toward the camera. “What can the public do to help the FBI?”
“Report any suspicious behavior,” Shawna said. “We have an eight-hundred number set up.”
“Here we go,” Kent said. “Twenty thousand calls from cranks, conspiracy theorists, and psychics communing with the dead girls’ spirits . . . and maybe—just maybe—one valid lead somewhere in the mix.”
Chen touched her ear, eyes widening. “Our social media team is reporting a new post on the Cipher’s Facebook page.” Chen gave a curt nod, then turned back to the camera. “We’re putting it up now. Some people may find this image disturbing. We advise viewer discretion.”
Nina looked at the picture that had suddenly filled the screen. A young girl clutching a large poster board had been photographed from the neck down to her waist, only her bare hands and a thin section of her stomach visible to the camera. On the white surface of the board, bold block letters scrawled in black marker conveyed a message.
COME AND GET ME, WARRIOR GIRL.
I HAVE SIX HOURS TO LIVE.
Nina felt the weight of everyone’s gaze upon her in the confines of the plane. As Wade and Kent had said, the Cipher’s obsession with her was driving him. He had begun with her and he would keep going until he ended with her. He did not want to merely kill her—he wanted to possess her, control her, and finally, utterly destroy her.
Her. Nina Guerrera. Warrior Girl.
She glanced up to see Kent narrow his eyes at her, no doubt reading the resolve in her expression and interpreting it correctly. He mouthed the word no, slowly shaking his head.
But she had already made up her mind. Girls had been killed in DC, San Francisco, and Boston. This time, there was a live victim. Someone who could be saved. Whatever it took, Phoenix would not become another killing ground for the Cipher.
Chapter 40
Three hours later
Emergency Operations Center, Phoenix, Arizona
Nina scanned the high-tech EOC. Colocated with the fire department’s training academy, the new facility featured state-of-the-art technology. FBI agents from the Phoenix field office mingled with detectives and patrol supervisors as well as brass from the Phoenix PD. An array of civilian technical and support personnel milled throughout the expansive space—a typical war-room scenario she was becoming all too familiar with.
As in Boston, she had been paired with a local police detective, this time from the PPD Homicide unit. Her new partner, Javier Perez, had an athlete’s build showcased in gray dress slacks and a navy polo shirt. His thick black hair and caramel skin matched her own. He was the polar opposite of Delaney, the burly Irish cop from Boston.
Thanks to the tip line, hundreds of calls had swamped the center as soon as the news story aired. Scores of detectives, agents, and patrol officers had been assigned to follow up on the more promising leads funneled to the EOC from call takers manning the lines.
Like the other teams, Nina and Perez had been handed a stack of lead sheets. Buxton had flagged her down before she headed out. She’d quickly scanned the sheet he handed her. The caller had identified herself as a sixteen-year-old girl living in a shelter, checking off two of the Cipher’s criteria for victims. Then she’d indicated her friend had gone missing after getting into an RV with a stranger. Finally, she’d said she thought she recognized a tribal tattoo around the wrist of the girl who was holding the sign. Her missing friend had the same body art. The hairs had gone up on the back of Nina’s neck when she read it.
“My ride’s in the lot,” Perez said. “You need anything else before we head out?”
She picked up a leather portfolio from the table. “I’m good.”
As she followed him toward the door, Kent stepped in front of her. He lowered his voice. “Don’t do it.”
“Do what?”
“Whatever you were thinking of on the airplane. I saw the look on your face.”
“Don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“The unsub wants you to do something reckless. To make a mistake.”
“Perez and I are going to check out our leads. Same as you and your partner.”
He shot a glare in Perez’s direction. “I don’t like the look of him.”
“Good thing you’re not assigned with him, then.”
Perez joined them. “Is there a problem?”
The two men gave each other appraising looks.
She rolled her eyes. “When you two are done thumping your chests, I’ll be in the parking lot.”
Perez caught up to her in the hallway. She noticed him eyeing her speculatively, but he said nothing until he stopped beside a black Tahoe in the first row of parking spaces.
“The shelter isn’t far from here,” he said as he walked around to the driver’s door.
After buckling herself in, she opened her portfolio to pull out the call-in sheet Buxton had given her. “Interview subject is Emma Fisher, a sixteen-year-old currently staying at the downtown shelter for women and girls with her mother.”
Perez pulled onto the street. “Does Emma’s mother know she called in the tip?”
Nina scanned down the page. “Don’t think so. Says Emma saw the story on the news and asked to use the phone at the front desk.” She glanced over at Perez. “I’ll bet she doesn’t want her mother to know she was out last night.”
Perez nodded. “How do you want to handle the interview?”
“I’ll take the lead. She might feel more comfortable talking to a woman.”
“Got it,” he said, grinning. “I’ll be the strong, silent type.”
Within ten minutes, they arrived at a one-story mission-style adobe building on one of the smaller side streets. After parking in a space reserved for law enforcement, they pushed through the glass doors of a vestibule and walked to the front desk.
“Are you with the police?” a birdlike older woman with a short gray bob asked.