The naked edge

7

"Nashville, Tennessee?" Rutherford asked.

"That's where Carl's father took the family after losing his stock broker's job in Iowa City," Cavanaugh explained. "Can you arrange for someone to investigate a rash of missing animals or stabbings while Carl was there?"

They sat at a corner table at a truck stop near Alexandria, Virginia. Cavanaugh and Rutherford drank coffee while Jamie dug into a cheese-and-ham omelet with hash browns.

"Stabbings?" Rutherford frowned.

"Homeless people. Drifters. Back-alley drunks. The sort of victims who wouldn't be missed and didn't look like they could defend themselves."

"This guy sounds scarier and scarier," Rutherford said.

"Maybe you should check Iowa City, too." Jamie looked up from her omelet. "And any other place Carl lived."

"And where he was stationed in the military," Rutherford decided.

"What about Ali Karim?" Cavanaugh asked. "Did you find anything?"

"Still seems squeaky clean. But Global Protective Services lost another operator last night."

Jamie set down her fork.

"Frank Tamblyn," Rutherford said.

"I know him." Cavanaugh's voice was stark. "A former Army Ranger. Eight years with GPS. Wife. Two children. Dependable, always ready to be the first operator out the door to check if it's okay for a client to leave a building."

"Apparently, he loved to bowl."

"Why is that important?"

"Last night, he got in his car to drive to a bowling tournament. Afterward, around midnight, he returned to his car. He probably checked it for explosives. Not that it matters. When he got behind the steering wheel, a spring-loaded knife burst from under the dash and hit him in the groin. There weren't any trip wires, so he wouldn't have spotted the device. It was rigged to a vibration switch. Death was so rapid, the blade must have been coated with poison."