“Any of these places have security cameras?” Luke asked.

Bishop half nodded. “At the apartment complex. Grainy images the FBI lab is trying to enhance, but it looks like Mrs. Lang was visible, walking briskly, then passed into what’s apparently a security blind spot. She never reappeared on the security cameras.”

“How big was the blind spot?” Samantha asked.

“According to the chief, no more than fifteen feet.”

Samantha blinked. “Damn.”

“Whatever happened, happened fast,” Bishop agreed. “And also according to the chief, in that blind spot were no windows or doors, or even shrubbery. No place for an assailant to hide.”

“An enclosed courtyard.”

Bishop nodded. “Pretty sturdy, tall iron fencing at the walkway out of the courtyard, with a gate requiring a keycard and a code. All entrances and exits are recorded on the main security computer. Now.” He paused, then added, “This complex advertised itself as safe for young families just because of the general layout; it was designed with a few tricks to deter burglars or anyone else thinking about breaking in. From very thorny and well-lit shrubbery preventing any access to first-floor windows to first-rate door and window locks with individual security for each unit, plus excellent lighting all around the perimeter and inside the courtyard. Each apartment door is well lit all night, as are the open walkways on each of the four floors within the courtyard. No shadowy spots. And there’s a two-man security team at night, one to watch the monitors and the other to patrol.”

Luke lifted his brows again. “They worry much about security in a little place like Serenity?”

“They do now,” Samantha murmured.

“Sam.”

“Well, it’s true, isn’t it?” She looked at Bishop.

“It would probably be more accurate to say they’ve become obsessive about security. This apartment complex, for instance, had the fencing reinforced and the keypad code added, and began the process of updating the security system two days after Judge Carson vanished.” He paused. “They were scheduled to update or replace security cameras and add several more to eliminate all blind spots in the courtyard and all around the exterior of the complex later in the week. Mrs. Lang disappeared before that could be done.”

Samantha shook her head slightly, but said only, “And the next person to vanish?”

“Sean Messina, a car salesman, on the following Monday night.” There was both a closed tablet and a stack of folders on Bishop’s neat blotter. He never glanced down at them. “Messina and his girlfriend went to see a movie; there’s an old-fashioned but renovated theater downtown and a multiplex out near the highway.”

“They chose downtown?” Luke guessed.

Bishop nodded. “Messina’s girlfriend told the chief it was because they could walk, on well-lit sidewalks, from their condo to the theater. They walked there without incident. The theater was about a third full, which Chief Riggs says is entirely normal on a Monday night when there’s a new movie playing. The adults tend to leave the theater to the kids and teenagers during the weekends. Anyway, about halfway through the movie, Sean Messina left his seat and headed to the lobby, to use the restroom and get snacks at the concession stand.”

Luke said, “Please tell me they have surveillance cameras in the lobby.”

“They have. But Sean Messina never shows up on any of them. The entire lobby is covered, including the entrances to the theater and the doors of the restrooms. There is footage of him and his date arriving, getting sodas, and going into the theater. Sean Messina is never visible again.”

Samantha said, “I suppose the emergency exits have alarms?”

“They do. And as far as Chief Riggs’s technical people and the theater owner could determine, they were not tampered with at any time.”

“When did his date realize he was gone?” Samantha asked.

“Approximately ten minutes after he left her. The movie was still running, but she left her seat and went in search of him. She went straight to the theater owner, who apparently also acts as projectionist and usher when needed, and together they searched the lobby and restrooms. Then he wisely locked the front doors, interrupted the movie to raise the house lights, and when there was still no sign of Messina, he called the police.”

Slowly, Lucas said, “The first fully contained crime scene.”

“Yes. Except that there was no sign a crime had been committed. No sign of a struggle, no exterior door opened—and no sign of Sean Messina. He hasn’t been seen or heard from since. The chief even brought dogs in to clear the theater before he allowed other moviegoers to leave. They were very cooperative. And very shaken by what happened.”

“And the dogs found nothing,” Luke said.

“According to their handler, who was as baffled and uneasy as everyone else, as far as the dogs were concerned, their behavior clearly signaled that Sean Messina had never been in the theater.”

Samantha frowned, the expression making her look even more sulky than the normal expression nature had given her. “He disappeared after he was never there?”

“Just telling you what’s in the chief’s report, Sam,” Bishop said, still completely calm.

“Well,” Lucas said after a pause, “it definitely sounds like our kind of case.”

Samantha was still frowning, her unusually dark gaze on Bishop. “Give,” she said.

He answered her readily enough. “There’s a page missing from your reports. Not because I withheld it, but because I don’t have it yet. All I have is the verbal report from Chief Riggs when he called me a couple of hours ago. Sometime after midnight last night, ten-year-old Vanessa Tyler apparently got out of bed to get herself a glass of ice water from the kitchen, which was not at all unusual for her. When her parents got up a few hours ago, they found a half-full glass of water on the kitchen counter, along with Vanessa’s favorite stuffed bear. Her grandmother made it for her, and she always slept with it.”

Bishop’s gaze remained steady, but his voice had taken on a very soft, even, steely tone both the agents in front of him recognized. Like the scar twisting whitely down his left cheek standing out more than usual now, his tone was an indication of an intensity of emotion he very, very rarely showed in any other way.

“All the doors and windows in the house were locked from the inside. The security system, a good one, was active and showed no signs of having been tampered with. No screens were cut, no glass broken. But Vanessa Tyler is gone. She’s the sixth victim to go missing this month. The first child. And so far, there is absolutely no evidence to indicate what happened to her. Or to any of the others. They’re simply gone.”

After a long moment, Samantha said with something of Bishop’s almost preternatural calm, “Definitely a case for us.”

—

ROBBIE HODGE LOOKED up from the tablet she’d been studying and frowned a bit at Miranda Bishop. Who, as was her usual habit, was sitting on her desk rather than behind it in the chair.

“You said two teams would be going?”

“Yeah. You two, plus Luke and Samantha Jordan.”

Dante Swann, sitting in the other visitor’s chair, looked up at Miranda and frowned as well. “Is Bishop briefing them?”

Miranda nodded, wearing a faint smile.

“Why?” Robbie demanded.

A little chuckle escaped Miranda. “Generally speaking, the newer agents find me . . . less intimidating. At least in the beginning. And a briefing isn’t much more than relaying information. The four of you can go over everything on the jet. You should just about have time to do that before you land in Tennessee.”

Dante glanced at his partner; they hadn’t worked together for long, and it showed. As did something else, at least to Miranda’s experienced gaze.

“Your abilities,” she said calmly, “will only improve with practice. Field practice. We can only go so far in the lab, and experience has taught us that agents adapt quicker and with far more control when working in the field. Maybe because then it counts.”