“Thanks, Shamus,” Mac replied, looking longingly at the beer taps. He was dying to have one – a Grain Belt Premium or a Schells, his current favorites. Instead he had the bartender mix him a tall Arnie Palmer, which, while not a beer, would be cold and refreshing nonetheless.
Shamus led Mac down the stairs and past a small game room, which was currently occupied by two regulars playing pool. Turning right, Shamus opened the middle drawer of the buffet and popped the latch to Patrick’s Room. Inside, Mac found a table set up with chips and salsa and a gray tub that was full of Diet Cokes, Sprites, and bottled waters.
“I’ll have some warm food brought in,” Shamus said, grabbing a phone to call the kitchen. “When will everyone else be coming?”
“Within the hour,” Mac replied as he opened two dark wood-paneled doors, revealing a whiteboard. “I could eat right now, though.”
“BLTs?” Shamus asked, familiar with his nephew’s favorites. Mac nodded. Shamus dialed up to the kitchen and placed the order. “They’re on their way,” he said as he hung up. “So tell me, boyo. Where you at?”
Mac gave Shamus the rundown on the last two days, leaving out his suspicions about someone working the case from the inside.
“You ain’t got shit, do ya, boyo?” Shamus asked.
Mac shook his head with disgust.
Shamus patted him on the back. “Well, it ain’t over yet,” he said. “You never know what’s gonna break a case, my boy. But let me tell ya, I’ve had the old hands in here by the dozens today. You need any help, you let me know. We’ll call in the brigade.” Shamus headed upstairs to check on the food.
One of the reasons Mac wanted to come to Patrick’s Room was the chance to be away from Burton, Duffy, the mayor, and everyone else and think and talk things out. Patrick’s Room was used for bar training and business meetings. Consequently, Shamus had outfitted it with all one needed for such things, including an overhead projector, drop-down movie screen, whiteboard, along with tables and chairs.
A psychologist friend said Mac was a visual learner, which meant he needed to see it, feel it, touch it, and write it down. While Mac was inclined to think it was a bunch of quack psychoanalysis, he had to admit that there was a bit of truth in it. He needed to see things laid out to understand the patterns and connections, to comprehend the whole picture. He loved puzzles, laying out the pieces and trying to make them all fit. It was time to mind-map – to lay out the pieces of this case and see what larger picture they formed. He took out his notebook and grabbed a black marker and started jotting down notes on the whiteboard. Along the top of the board he wrote:
Complicated – Prepared – Motivated.
For the next half hour he jotted down what the investigation had thus far.
Kidnappers: Probably three men? Big, over 6 feet. Hats, sunglasses, gloves. Vans, no consistent makes or models and always stolen. The one running the show has thought of everything. Seems to know what we’ll do.
Woman: Black hair, forties, smallish, purchased laptop, was the eyes inside at Cel’s and at St. Thomas University. Rented the safe house? Landlord said she was attractive, but with blonde hair. Wig? Same woman? Were there two women?
Vans: Last five days, panel-type, different makes. Gloves on drivers’ hands.
Hisle and Flanagan cases: No connections (at least yet) on criminal cases between Flanagan and Hisle.
Mac thought about that lack of a good connection. Wiskowski was a setup. The rest they’d looked into were weak at best. That still bothered him, which brought him back to something he’d said earlier.
Investigative Focus: Pick a good candidate even if not obviously connected to both men.
He scratched his head at the last note. That sounded good in theory, but it would take time to work through all of the names again and they had less than twenty hours. He left that for the time being and moved on to today’s clues: the laptop and safe house.
Laptop: Purchased by woman? Was it the same woman as at Cel’s? Store video was inconclusive. No match from facial recognition software. Woman had dark hair, wore a baseball cap and sunglasses. Computer purchased with cash, no credit card trail.
Safe house: House now abandoned? Clean. No evidence other than paint scratches on bed in basement. No forensic evidence feels right.
The door opened and his cousin Kelly walked in with a BLT and another Arnie Palmer. She gave Mac a little hug and a few words of encouragement before heading back out. Mac took a bite out of the sandwich and moved back to the whiteboard.
Ransom: $5 million. It should be more. What’s that mean? Is it important? The chief and Hisle could easily come up with more.
Video: Jupiter working it. FBI found nothing. Video shows isolated area-abandoned farm? Land the kidnappers own or owned?