“Fuck the FBI. Now tell me the plan.”

“We work with your father and Rainie. We see if we can’t find the remaining two girls. Then we track down the son of a bitch who did this, and nail him to the wall.”

“That’s the nicest thing I’ve heard all night.”

“Well,” he said modestly. “I do try.”

Shortly, Quincy’s car turned in at one of the scenic vistas, and Mac followed suit. Given the hour, no other cars were around, and they were far enough off Skyline Drive to be invisible from the road. They all got out of the two vehicles and congregated around the hood of Mac’s rental car.

The night still felt hot and heavy. Crickets buzzed and frogs croaked, but even those sounds were curiously subdued, as if everything were hushed and waiting. There should be heat lightning and thunder. There should be an impressive July thunderstorm, bringing cleansing rain and cooler temperatures. Instead, the heat wave pressed down on them, blanketing the world in stifling humidity and silencing half the creatures of the night.

Quincy had taken off his jacket, loosened his tie and rolled up his sleeves. “So we have three possible clues,” he said by way of starting things off. “A vial of liquid, rice, and some kind of dust from the victim’s hair. Any ideas?”

“Rice?” Kimberly asked sharply.

“Uncooked, white, long grain,” Mac informed her. “At least that was Levine’s best guess.”

Kimberly shook her head. “That doesn’t even make sense.”

“He likes to make it harder,” Mac said quietly. “Welcome to the rules of the game.”

“How far away do you think the other two victims are?” Rainie spoke up. “If he’s taken multiple victims, maybe the first victim speaks for all three. He’s only one man after all, working with a limited amount of time to set this up.”

Mac shrugged. “I can’t be sure of this new format, of course. In Georgia, he definitely moved around a lot. We started at a state park famous for its granite gorge, then moved to cotton fields, then the banks of the Savannah River, and finally to the salt marshes on the coast. Four clearly diverse regions of the state. Here, however, you’re right-he has some practical issues involved in placing bodies all over the state, particularly in twenty-four hours or less.”

“The logistics of hauling multiple bodies are complicated,” Quincy commented.

“Vehicle of choice is probably a cargo van. Gives him a place to stash kidnapped women, inject poison in their veins, and then haul them around. In this case, he’d also need plenty of room, given four victims.”

“How did he manage to snatch four women at once?” Kimberly murmured. “You’d think at least one of them would put up a fight?”

“I doubt they had a chance. His favorite method of ambush is using a dart gun. He closes in on the car, darts the women with fast-acting ketamine, and they’re drifting off to la-la land before anyone can protest. If another car drives by, he can pose as the designated driver with four passed-out passengers. Then, once the coast is clear, he loads the women into his van, ramps up the ketamine to keep them unconscious for as long as he needs, and he sets off for stage two of his master plan. He’s not a flashy killer, but he certainly gets the job done.”

They all nodded morosely. Yes, the man certainly got the job done.

“Rainie said you got a call again,” Quincy said to Mac.

“At the scene. Caller swears he’s not actually the killer, though. He got mad when I accused him of the crimes, swore he was just trying to help, and said he was sorry more girls had died. Not that he volunteered his name or the killer’s name, mind you, but he still swears he’s a stand-up guy.”

“The caller’s lying,” Quincy said flatly.

“You think?”

“Consider the timing of both your recent calls. First one comes the night before the first victim is found-incidentally, right around the same time the killer must have been plotting his ambush, if he had not already taken the four girls. Then the second call comes tonight, when you’re at the scene of the second victim. I believe that is what Special Agent Kaplan would consider a suspicious coincidence.”

“You think the Eco-Killer’s close?” Mac asked sharply.

“Killers like to watch. Why should this UNSUB be different? He’s left a trail of breadcrumbs for us. Perhaps he also likes to note our progress.” Quincy sighed, then squeezed the bridge of his nose. “Earlier, you said the GBI attempted several times to find the Eco-Killer. You tried tracing the drugs that were used. You did the standard victim profiling, you looked at veterinarians, campers, hikers, birdwatchers, all sorts of outdoorsmen.”

“Yes.”

“And you created a profile. It describes the killer as being male, white, above-average intelligence, but probably stuck in a menial job. Travels often, has limited social skills and is prone to fits of rage when frustrated.”

“That’s what the expert told us.”

“Two things strike me,” Quincy said. “One, I think the killer is even smarter than you think. By definition, his game forces your immediate attention and resources on finding the second victim-instead of pursuing him.”

“Well, in the beginning, sure-”

“A trail grows cold, Mac. Every detective knows that. The more time has passed, the more difficult it is to find a suspect.”

Mac nodded his head more grudgingly. “Yeah, okay.”

“And second, we now know something very interesting that you didn’t know before.”

“Which is?”

“The man has access to the Marine base at Quantico. That narrows our suspect pool down to a relatively small group of people within the state of Virginia. And that’s a lead we shouldn’t squander.”

“You think a Marine or an FBI agent did this?” Mac asked with a frown.

Quincy had a faraway look in his eye. “I don’t know yet. But the emphasis on Quantico, the phone calls to you… There’s something significant there. I just can’t see it yet. Can you write down the conversation you had tonight? Word for word, all of the caller’s comments? Dr. Ennunzio will want to see it.”

“You think he’ll still help us?” Kimberly spoke up.

“You assume he knows we’ve been taken off the case.” Quincy shrugged. “He’s a backroom academic; field agents never think to keep those kinds informed. They live in their world, the BSU lives in its own. Besides, we’re going to need Dr. Ennunzio. So far, those letters and phone calls are the only direct link we have to the Eco-Killer. And that’s important. If we’re going to break this pattern, we must identify the UNSUB. Otherwise, we’re only ever treating the symptoms, not the disease.”

“You’re not going to abandon the other two girls?” Mac asked sharply.

“I am,” Quincy said calmly. “But you’re not.”

“Divide and conquer?” Rainie spoke up.

“Exactly. Mac and Kimberly, you work on finding the girls. Rainie and I will continue our pursuit of the man himself.”

“That could be dangerous,” Mac said quietly.

Quincy merely smiled. “That’s why I’m taking Rainie with me. Let him just dare to tangle with her.”

“Amen,” Rainie said soberly.

“We could try the USGS again,” Kimberly said. “Bring them the samples we have. I’m not sure what to make of the rice, but a hydrologist is a good start for the fluid.”

Mac nodded thoughtfully. “They might know something about the rice. Maybe it’s like the Hawaii connection. Wouldn’t mean anything to a layman, but to the proper expert…”

“Where are those offices?” Quincy asked.

“Richmond.”

“What time do they open?”

“Eight A.M.”

Quincy glanced at his watch. “Well, good news, everyone. We can all grab a few hours’ sleep after all.”

They drove out of the park. They found a chain motel in one of the nearby towns and booked three rooms. Quincy and Rainie disappeared into their tiny quarters. Mac went into his. Kimberly went into hers.