Long Way Down, continued from chapter two.
Author's Note: So much thanks to everyone for the positive feedback, and to Maple Street, for being so wonderful. I :wub: you all.
According to Nathan Miller, the emergency call button was pushed at exactly 11:06 PM.
Samantha and Jack stood inside Wellington's College's main security office, listening to the slender young man explain the emergency call system.
"There are five call boxes stationed around campus," he said, leading the two agents through a single wooden door that led from the main office into a much smaller room filled with speakers, various buttons, a computer and two television screens.
"The system is simple," Nathan assured, gesturing to a set of five red lights, each labeled with the name of a building.
"Each call box is named for the hall it's closest to," the guard continued. "Murphy Hall, Birmingham Hall, and so on. When a student presses one of the call buttons, a buzzer sounds and the light in this room corresponding with the button pushed begins to blink. This button," he continued, pointing to a small black circle under each red light, "allows whoever is responding to the call to speak to the student, and vice-versa."
"Can you tell us exactly what happened last night, Mr. Miller?" Jack looked expectantly at the younger man, who nodded.
"Sure. I was working the earlier shift. That's six PM to twelve AM," he clarified. "Normally, there are six security officers on campus, including a monitoring guard. I was monitoring yesterday, but we were short-handed. Only five guards, including myself. It was a quiet night, and there was a problem with one of the building's alarm systems, so a few guys were working on that. Anyway, at 11:06, the Connelly Hall light began to blink." Nathan pointed to one of the red lights. "I asked the student for her name and confirmation of location. Kerry Glenn, Connelly Hall." The officer shrugged. "Told her I would send the closest guard to walk her to her dorm. Unfortunately, since we were short-staffed, the closest guard was at least ten minutes away."
"What's the officer's name?" Samantha asked, shivering slightly. The small office was suddenly freezing.
"Steven Keith," Nathan Miller answered. "He's around here somewhere."
Jack nodded. "Good. We'll need to speak with him. Mr. Miller, what did Kerry seem like when she called emergency last night?"
The other man looked thoughtful. "A little freaked out, but not too bad. Just nervous, I guess."
"Do you know why?" Samantha interjected.
Nathan Miller's response was another shrug. "No idea. It's strange, because I've seen her out late before, and she was always fine. Seemed to really like running at night."
Samantha and Jack exchanged quick glances.
"You know Kerry Glenn?" Jack asked carefully.
"Oh, not well," Nathan clarified. "We talked a few times, when I was out patrolling and she was heading back from a run. That's why I was surprised to hear her on the call box; she always seemed very in control. When Steven reported that she was gone, I figured she'd just gotten tired of waiting and headed back on her own."
"Has anything like this ever happened before?" Samantha asked, peering over a set of buttons and knobs before returning her steady gaze to Nathan Miller, who shook his head slowly.
"Not that I know of," he replied. "I've only worked here for a few years and as far as I know, the emergency call system is relatively new. There have never been any real problems at Wellington," he finished.
"Thank you, Mr. Miller," Jack stood, and Samantha joined him. "We'll need to speak with Steven Keith immediately."
A nod from Nathan, who pressed another black button. "This connects me to all the guards on duty," he explained, before verifying Steven Keith's location and directing the agents on their way.
Samantha stepped into the mild October sun with a sigh of relief, and Jack fell into step beside her, his shoulder against hers providing an additional source of warmth and comfort. They passed Connelly Hall, and Samantha stopped a few steps after the wide brown building, eyes fixed on the gleaming silver box, still surrounded by bright yellow crime scene tape.
"It was supposed to keep her safe," Samantha spoke quietly, unable to keep herself from envisioning the terrified young woman, seeking help from a metal box and a red button.
A light touch on her shoulder let Samantha know that Jack had heard her, that he knew. That they were doing everything they could.
"C'mon," he whispered gently, guiding her down the concrete path. By the time the agents reached Steven Keith, Samantha had pushed her feelings aside, her strength only bolstered by Jack's presence at her side.
"Steven Keith?" She smoothly took charge, approaching the tall, sandy-haired man. "I'm Agent Spade, and this is Agent Malone of the FBI. We need to ask you a few questions about last night."
"I already told NYPD everything I know," the man interjected, eyes full of resentment.
"That's nice," Samantha commented mildly before continuing. "Where were you when Nathan Miller contacted you?"
"At the southern end of campus," Steven Keith replied. "Near Rider Hall." He raised an arm, pointing beyond Jack and Samantha. "Down that way."
"And when Nathan Miller told you that you were needed at the Connelly Hall box, did you leave right away?"
Steven Keith glared at the agents. "Of course I did."
"How long did it take you to get there?" Samantha continued her questioning, unbothered by the officer's obvious discontent.
"Ten minutes? Maybe a little longer," he answered.
"And when you got there..." Jack trailed off, an eyebrow raised in question.
"When I got there, no one was around. I looked around the area for about five minutes before I called Nathan back and let him know." Steven seemed to have calmed slightly.
"Did you see anything out of the ordinary at all?"
"Nothing." The guard offered no further explanation, and the word was like a final, closing door. They would learn no more from Steven Keith.
"Can we hold him?" Samantha murmured to Jack as they left the guard behind.
Jack shook his head slightly. "We don't have enough," he responded reluctantly. "We'll need to get a list of all the guards on duty last night, run a background check."
They fell into a comfortable silence, and as the agents reached the opposite end of campus, Samantha glanced at her watch, raising an eyebrow.
"It took us fifteen minutes to walk from one end of the school to the other." Her voice held a note of surprise.
"Wide campus," Jack mused as they approached the government issued vehicle and slid inside. A few moments later, Samantha spoke again.
"Jack? This isn't the way to the unit."
"We're not going to the unit," was Jack's vague response, as he met her eyes briefly.
"Really." Samantha relaxed back against the seat, staring ahead before turning to regard him softly. "Where are we going?"
"Have to check in with Lincoln Rhyme and Amelia Sachs," Jack reminded her.
"The NYPD office?" She guessed, and Jack smiled.
"Not quite. Rhyme works out of his house."
"Oh. I bet that's some house," Samantha mused, throwing Jack a grin. "You've worked with him before?"
"Yeah, awhile ago. You should have seen him work a scene, Sam. It was like there were things only he could see. Things only he knew how to find. It was some kind of magic. I haven't seen him since the accident." Jack's voice sobered before a smile crept back into his tone. "He's got that same intensity now, though. Amelia Sachs has been a blessing."
"They seem like a perfect team," Samantha agreed, recalling the smoldering connection between the fiery red-head and the insistent criminalist.
"They are," Jack assured her. A beat, then a smile. "I'd say we make a damn good team, too."
We. Team. The words affected Samantha on a level much deeper than she was sure Jack meant, and so she responded with only a smile that mirrored his own.
Samantha wasn't sure what to expect when she and Jack approached the front door of Lincoln Rhyme's townhouse. A slim, blonde man answered the bell, and ushered them inside after they presented their badges.
"I'm Thom," he introduced himself with a smile, leading them down a hallway and into a large room stocked with more forensic tools than Samantha had ever seen. Computers and microscopes filled every corner, and a large worktable was spread with jars, gloves, examining trays, and dozens of other items she couldn't identify.
Amelia Sachs was bent over Lincoln Rhyme's shoulder as he peered into a sleek black microscope. The man looked up suddenly, dark eyes fixated on the blonde man.
"Thom, we need that chalkboard in here, now." The demand from the intimidating criminalist was met with only a raised eyebrow, and Lincoln Rhyme sighed. "Please."
As Thom left the room, Lincoln turned to Jack and Samantha and offered what Samantha assumed was a welcoming smile, before returning his gaze to the microscope. It was Amelia Sachs who spoke.
"What'd you find out?" She seemed genuinely interested.
"According to the roommate, Kerry left to run sometime after 10:30, after a fight with her parents on the phone. Said that wasn't unusual, she does it once or twice a week. The roommate, Erin Spencer, called Kerry in missing when she woke up and saw that she hadn't come back."
Sachs nodded, and Samantha continued.
"We talked to the guard who responded to her emergency call, Nathan Miller. The button was pressed at exactly 11:06, and he sent the closest security officer to walk Kerry back to her dorm. When the officer, Steven Keith, reached the box, Kerry was gone."
"Nathan Miller confirmed Kerry's penchant for running at night," Jack picked up as Samantha left off. "He said he's spoken to her a few times, and she never had any problems before."
At that moment, Thom returned to the room, dragging a large green chalkboard across the floor. Lincoln Rhyme looked up again.
"Ah, thank you, Thom." Rhyme's voice dripped with sarcastic graciousness. "Ready to write?"
Rolling his eyes, the aide nodded, and Lincoln began to dictate the items found at the emergency call scene.
"We'll be able to perform a more-detailed analysis of the dirt samples when Mel gets here," Lincoln spoke to the room in general.
"Who's Mel?" Samantha questioned.
"Mel Cooper. Works in the forensic lab at NYPD," Amelia Sachs clarified. "He's really good."
"Lincoln, do you have another one of those boards? Samantha and I need to lay out a timeline," Jack explained. An aggrieved sigh from Lincoln Rhyme, who nodded.
"I'll get it," offered Thom, leaving the room once again.
"Ignore him," Amelia nodded to Rhyme, who arched a challenging eyebrow at the red haired woman. "He's just testy because he can't figure out what that piece of cloth is."
"Haven't figured it out yet, Sachs," Rhyme corrected irritably.
"What piece of cloth?" Samantha's interest was peaked, and she made her way around various pieces of equipment, standing at Lincoln Rhyme's side.
The cloth and branch were laid out on a white examining tray. Thin and navy blue, the cloth was slightly frayed at the edges and only about three inches in diameter.
After Rhyme assured it was okay, Samantha picked the cloth up, rubbing it between her fingers before letting out a surprised laugh.
"It's Under Armor," she said, a grin still quirked at the corner of her lips.
"It's what?" Rhyme and Sachs spoke simultaneously, and Jack's face was questioning.
"Under Armor. It's a type of shirt worn mostly for sports. It's light, but tough, and usually really tight. It's for warmth," she explained.
"How do you know?" Lincoln Rhyme's voice was interested but a bit skeptical, and Samantha shrugged.
"I used to wear it all the time for softball night games."
"Ah." The answer seemed to satisfy the scientist. "Would we be able to trace it to a particular store or provider?"
Samantha shook her head apologetically. "Probably not, sorry. Under Armor is sold at pretty much every sporting goods store, and besides, this particular shirt is old."
"Why do you say that?" This time, it was Amelia Sachs who directed a question at Samantha.
"It's thinner than usual, which means it's probably been worn a lot. Wouldn't have ripped otherwise; this stuff is really durable. Plus, it's kind of faded, stretched." Samantha peered closer at the cloth sample. "This is probably from the upper back, by the way."
Before Rhyme or Sachs could form a question, Samantha explained. "That's where the shirt is pulled the thinnest. Easiest place to tear."
Rhyme was nodding vigorously, and he graced Samantha with a grudging thank you, before asking Thom to write "Under Armor" under the crime scene list.
Samantha's eyes met Jack's, and she flushed slightly at the quiet pride she saw in his face. Their gazes held for a moment, and then Amelia Sachs spoke.
"Do we know if Kerry was wearing the Under Armor?"
Jack shook his head. "Roommate told us Kerry was wearing a white t-shirt and green shorts," he explained to Amelia and Lincoln.
Nodding, the red-haired woman picked up a small envelope and opened it, reaching inside with a pair of tweezers and retrieving a thin yellow hair tie.
"Found this at the scene as well," Sachs explained to the agents as she carefully placed it on another white examining board. "It was only a few feet away from the tree the Under Armor caught on."
"Look at the envelope first, Sachs," Lincoln requested, and the woman did.
"The hair tie was wet," Amelia informed the others, setting envelope down next to the hair band. "Left a water stain on the envelope."
"What does that mean?" Samantha asked.
"Means the hair tie was outside all night," Lincoln Rhyme answered, his tone much more genial than it had been earlier. "It didn't rain at all yesterday or this morning, so we know it was soaked with dew."
"Yeah, but Wellington's an all-girls school," Jack pointed out. "That could belong to anyone."
Amelia Sachs grinned broadly, separating a single golden blonde hair from the yellow hair tie with her tweezers and lifting it triumphantly. "Maybe, but now we can determine if it's Kerry's or not."
"Excellent, Sachs," Rhyme nodded firmly as Jack pulled out his cell phone, requesting a uniform to retrieve Kerry Glenn's hairbrush from her dorm room.
"Sam, we need to visit Kerry Glenn's parents," Jack said, and Samantha nodded. "Van Doran says it's about a two hour drive from here."
Rhyme and Sachs exchanged glances.
"Two hours? My Sachs'll get you there in..what? Forty-five minutes?" Rhyme directed a questioning gaze at the tall woman, who gave a slight smile.
"Something like that."
"Great." Lincoln's voice was brisk. "Thom, I need you to change these samples.." Rhyme's attention was completely focused on the microscope in front of him, save for the quick, warm smile he bestowed on Amelia Sachs, a gesture that didn't go unnoticed.
"Ready?" Jack tossed Amelia the keys, and she caught them one-handed, moving toward the door. The agents followed the red-haired woman out the door of Lincoln Rhyme's townhouse, leaving the quirky, brilliant man to the world he still lived for.
TBC..