Read Tell No One for Free Online

kept going back to that seemingly simple fact. I started sorting through the possibilities.
    Possibility one: These two men were the work ofKillRoy. True, his other victims were women and easily found, but did that rule out his killing others?
    Possibility two: KillRoy had persuaded these men to help him abduct Elizabeth. That might explain a lot. The wooden bat, for one thing, if the blood on it was indeed mine. It also put to rest my one big question mark about the whole abduction. In theory, KillRoy, like all serial killers, worked alone. How, I’d always wondered, had he been able to drag Elizabeth to the car and at the same time lie in wait for me to get out of the water? Before her body surfaced, the authorities had assumed there had been more than one abductor. But once her corpse was found branded with the K, that hypothesis was finessed. KillRoy could have done it, it was theorized, if he’d cuffed or somehow subdued Elizabeth and then gone after me. It wasn’t a perfect fit, but if you pushed hard enough, the piece went in.
    Now we had another explanation. He had accomplices. And he killed them.
    Possibility three was the simplest: The blood on the bat was not mine. B positive is not common, but it’s not that rare either. In all likelihood, these bodies had nothing to do with Elizabeth’s death.
    I couldn’t make myself buy it.
    I checked the computer’s clock. It was hooked into some satellite that gave the exact time.
    6:04.42 P.M.
    Ten minutes and eighteen seconds to go.
    To go to what?
    The phones kept ringing. I tuned them out and drummed my fingers. Under ten minutes now. Okay, if there was going to be a change in the hyperlink, it would have probably happened by now. I put my hand on the mouse and took a deep breath.
    My beeper went off.
    I wasn’t on call tonight. That meant it was either a mistake—something made far too often by the clinic night operators—or a personal call. It beeped again. Double beep. That meant an emergency. I looked at the display.
    It was a call from Sheriff Lowell. It was marked Urgent.
    Eight minutes.
    I thought about it but not for very long. Anything was better than stewing with my own thoughts. I decided to call him back.
    Lowell again knew who it was before he picked up. “Sorry to bother you, Doc.” Doc, he called me now. As though we were chums. “But I just have a quick question.”
    I put my hand back on the mouse, moved the cursor over the hyperlink, and clicked. The Web browser stirred to life.
    “I’m listening,” I said.
    The Web browser was taking longer this time. No error message appeared.
    “Does the name Sarah Goodhart mean anything to you?”
    I almost dropped the phone.
    “Doc?”
    I pulled the receiver away and looked at it as though it had just materialized in my hand. I gathered myself together a piece at a time. When I trusted my voice, I put the phone back to my ear. “Why do you ask?”
    Something started coming up on the computer screen. I squinted. One of those sky cams. Or street cam, I guess you’d call this one. They had them allover the Web now. I sometimes used the traffic ones, especially to check out the morning delay on the Washington Bridge.
    “It’s a long story,” Lowell said.
    I needed to buy time. “Then I’ll call you back.”
    I hung up. Sarah Goodhart. The name meant something to me. It meant a lot.
    What the hell was going on here?
    The browser stopped loading. On the monitor, I saw a street scene in black and white. The rest of the page was blank. No banners or titles. I knew you could set it up so that you grabbed only a certain feed. That was what we had here.
    I checked the computer clock.
    6:12.18 P.M.
    The camera was pointing down at a fairly busy street corner, from maybe fifteen feet off the ground. I didn’t know what corner it was or what city I was looking at. It was definitely a major city, though. Pedestrians flowed mostly from right to left, heads down, shoulders slumped, briefcases in hand,