The First Victim

CHAPTER 51

Had Boldt not requested Stevie to repeatedly review Melissa’s digital tape, perhaps she would not have done so, too upset at those darkened images of the sweatshop and the horrid conditions described in the close-up interviews. But his suggestion that Melissa might be not only alive but undiscovered by the enemy charged her with a renewed hope that sputtered and flickered inside her, giving off light like a lamp with a bad wire.

She attempted to deal with her mood swings, for the dryness in her throat and the stinging in her eyes. She could not recall her last meal. She found it impossible to sleep, the hotel room offering her no feeling of safety despite the presence of hotel security. Nor did she understand why it was so difficult for her to remain focused. She constantly caught herself stuck in some memory of Melissa, her vision clouded by it, her senses stolen from her. She had been robbed of her existence, denied it. She needed out of this-no longer simply for Melissa’s sake, but for her own. If she failed, she would fail completely, would crumble, unable to work, unable to live; she felt absolutely certain of this.

In one of her wanderings, her immediate task dissolving behind this curtain of regret and anger, her eye fell onto the frozen image of a city bus on the video. Not the bus in particular, but its route number, posted electronically on its side. The route number, glimpsed briefly as Melissa boarded the bus in her attempt to follow the big man wearing the hooded sweatshirt. Mexican? Chinese? She couldn’t be sure. But that route number! The man’s destination was somewhere along that bus route. A quick review of the other video confirmed that he had changed buses at least once. Melissa had followed him into the bus on her second try. Had he transferred to the same route both times? What if he’d ridden the bus to the sweatshop? What if she compared that particular bus route to the list of vacant structures that Boldt had confirmed the police were investigating? What if they could follow the rat to the nest?

She trembled with excitement, suddenly feeling fully awake and invigorated. It seemed so obvious to her. So overlooked. What could it hurt if she checked it out on her own? What damage could be done by a simple bus ride around town? What if she could bring Boldt the location of the sweatshop?

She clicked off the monitors, removed the tapes and hurried to lock them in her office despite the fact they were only copies-the originals safe with Boldt.

She had a bus to ride.