She knows.

Fucking bitch federal agent.

Who had told her? Simon? He shook his head. Simon was ecstatic to participate in his game. There was no way he would have gone to the police; he had no cause. The woman couldn’t have figured out this was the next location on her own. Could she? He stayed low in his car, thoughts ricocheting in his brain, his anger escalating.

She did this. She interfered again. Choosing to make an example out of her was the right thing to do.

“How dare she think she can mess with me!” Fury blurred his vision.

He risked a peek over his dash, spotted the back of her head, and eased back into his seat. His anger stewed in his gut, souring his stomach, but he made himself focus. I can handle this. The federal agent watched the activity for another moment, nodded as if satisfied, and got back in her vehicle. He started his car and followed her out of the lot.

Time for the backup plan.

36

Mason picked at his sandwich. The kid behind the counter had put too much mustard on it and now it was inedible—or was he simply not hungry? Across from him Ray worked on a vegetarian sandwich and Zander made silent progress on a Greek salad. He watched guacamole drip onto Ray’s plate, decided his problem was lack of appetite, and pushed his sandwich away. After talking with Simon Goethe, who’d decided to spend the evening and night at a friend’s apartment, the three investigators had agreed to grab a fast dinner and then head back to the command center.

“Sergeant Shaver says he got some flak from the owner of the strip mall where Starbucks leases their building,” said Ray between rapid bites. “The owner says the activity with all the electrical guys is affecting the other businesses and they’re complaining.”

“Did he tell him to go pound sand?” Mason asked.

“Yep. Pissed the owner off. Shaver wanted to say, ‘Do you want to host the next mass shooting?’ but he kept his temper. We don’t need the word getting out like that.”

“No,” agreed Mason. He’d had a stern talk with Simon about keeping all information about the Starbucks shutdown from his friends. He crossed his fingers the young man would keep his mouth shut. If the media got wind that a mastermind had orchestrated the shootings . . .

Not yet. They had to keep it quiet for a little while longer. They’d briefed Sergeant Shaver over the phone, stunning him with the stories about the pranks, and Shaver had agreed that it was their best lead. “The phone that belongs to the number Simon had was sold at a local Walmart six months ago,” Shaver had said. “They don’t keep video that long, and if I was buying the phone, I would have paid cash. There’s no way I would have left a credit card trail.”

“Shaver’s got someone checking out who set up the YouTube channel, right?” asked Ray.

“Yes. The videos appear to be dated, but popular. If our guy is on film in any of them, he’s going to be at least five to ten years older now. And they haven’t located who created them yet. I suspect all the posting information is false.” Mason took a sip of his bottled water and silently watched his dinner companions finish.

I wonder how Ava is doing.

She’d sounded good on an earlier phone call, but admitted she was running on autopilot. She’d said she was going to yoga, and he’d agreed it was a good decision. A big part of him wanted to get her out of town and onto a sunny beach for two weeks. Who cared that her vacation time was nearly done? His phone vibrated loudly on the table, drawing Ray’s and Zander’s attention.

Simon Goethe.

“Callahan.”

“This is Simon—from earlier today.” The kid sounded out of breath.

“I know, Simon. What’s up?”

“He just texted me. Well, I assume it was him. It came from a different phone number just like you said it would.”

“What’d he say?” Mason held very still, willing Simon to get to the point.

“It said to be in place at that Starbucks at seven thirty tonight.”

Mason checked the time; it was nearly seven. “Give me the number. Did he say anything else? Did you reply?”

“Not yet. You said to call you immediately. No, he hasn’t said anything else.” He rattled off the phone number, which Mason copied onto a napkin and handed to Zander.

“Text him back that you’ll be on time. Say something like you’re really excited.”

“I will? You want me to go?” His voice cracked.

“No.” Do I need to use smaller words? “We’ll take it from here. Keep your phone close and call me again if he says anything else. I’m going to send an officer to stay with you until this is over.”

“Am I in danger?” Simon asked slowly. “You said he doesn’t know where I am, right?”

“I’m just taking precautions. He probably thinks you’re on your way to Starbucks, but let’s not take any chances, okay? Do you feel like you’re in a safe location?”

“I’m still at my friend’s apartment in Sandy.”

“Good choice. You’re miles away from where he thinks this is going down. Give me the address.” Mason added it to another napkin. “Keep an eye out for the officer, okay?”

Simon agreed and hung up.

“So Travis—or whatever his name is—hasn’t seen that we’ve shut down the Starbucks,” Ray said slowly. “That seems odd.”

Mason agreed. “What if the victim wasn’t going into the Starbucks? Maybe she works nearby? Somehow closing the store hasn’t affected his plan.”