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The place was amess. There were papers scattered everywhere, and for a moment or two, Amberthought that maybe someone had broken in. Then she realized that the mess had afamiliar feel to it. It reminded her a little of her own apartment, with thekind of creative mess that came from working on an idea, tossing things to oneside, trying something else without ever pausing to tidy anything away.
Amber movedforward cautiously. Simon and Francesca were already spreading out, checkingevery room of the apartment for potential threats, just in case there wasanyone lurking there. Or worse, in case there was a body waiting in one of theother rooms.
“Clear here,”Francesca said, moving to the bedroom.
“Here too,” Simonsaid, checking the bathroom.
As Amber wanderedthrough the apartment, the disarray gradually became more apparent. Clothes layscattered on the floor, books and papers piled high on every available surface,and the dishes in the kitchen were piled high in the sink. It was as if Boonhad been living in a state of continuous chaos, never bothering to clean ororganize anything.
For a man with theneat mind of an engineer, that didn’t seem normal. It might fit Amber’s way ofworking, but surely not his. Amber went to the stacks of papers, suspectingthat they had the greatest potential to let them know what was going on therewith Steven Boon.
Amber froze as shesaw a couple of designs near the top, her heart in her mouth, her blood runningcold. She’d seen these designs in real life, touched the cold metal of thefinished things.
Steven Boon haddrawn up the designs for the modified winches.
In that moment,everything fell into place for Amber. She’d assumed that because Boon was apart of the team working on the WM 120, he would be a target, but what if hewasn’t? What if he was something far more dangerous?
What if he was thekiller?
It made sense.They were looking for an engineer, someone who knew the project, and who knewthe team that had worked on it. It explained why Boon hadn’t been a targetearlier, and why the killer had such an easy time setting up a complex systemto kill his victims.
The only thingthat didn’t make sense was his motive. Why would he do something like this?
Was it reallypossible that they’d stumbled across the truth like this? That they’d gonelooking to save a potential victim, and instead found the perpetrator?
“He’s the killer!”Amber said, barely able to believe it. “Steven Boon is the killer!”
That left themwith another problem though, because Boon clearly wasn’t here, and he hadn’tbeen in days, according to his neighbors.
They might knowwho the hangman killer was, but they still needed to find him, before he had achance to murder anyone else.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Amber had neverbeen a part of a manhunt before.
Just the thoughtof it made her wonder if she would be up to playing a real part in one. Previously,her and Simon’s cases had only revealed the truth of the killer’s identityright at the moment when they took them into custody.
But now, they wereactively pursuing a suspect, and the adrenaline was pumping through her veins.
“We need to findout where Boon went and fast,” Amber said. Every moment they wasted now was onein which Boon might kill again, or simply escape, running because he’d finishedkilling whatever list of people connected to the project he was working through.This was a dangerous man, one they needed to find and stop before he couldclaim more lives.
Simon nodded,taking charge of the situation. “Francesca, call in backup and get a teamsearching the surrounding area in case he’s nearby. I’ll call for a forensicteam to go through the rest of the apartment, then put in a call to the statepolice, just in case Boon tries to run. Amber, I want you to stay here and gothrough Boon’s papers and see if we can find anything that could lead us tohim.”
Amber nodded,grateful to have a plan to work to. She started to look through the papersthere. If Steven Boon wasn’t here, then he had to have other resources, otherplaces that he knew he could be safe.
“We should lookfor any other properties he rents or owns,” Amber said. “Maybe he has aworkshop somewhere, or a cabin out of town, something like that.”
“I’ll check publicrecords as soon as I’ve called in backup,” Francesca assured her. Francesca wasalready on the phone with the rest of her team. “Yes, I want an APB on a mannamed Steven Boon. He’s our chief suspect as of now. I want him brought in assoon as possible.” She listened to something on the other end of the line. “Theywant to know if we should alert the press.”
Simon shook hishead almost instantly. “Absolutely not. Not yet. If Boon knows that we’relooking for him, he might behave unpredictably. He might try to run, but hemight also lash out blindly, trying to kill as many of the remaining peopleconnected with the project as possible without bothering about his usual MO.”
Amber couldunderstand that. Even though she’d worked for a newspaper before joining theFBI, even though her boyfriend was still a reporter, this was one moment whenshe was sure that they didn’t need the press involved.
It was strange,looking through the designs Boon had produced. They had a name, a face, andevidence that he was the killer, but they still needed to find him. Amber wasn’tlooking for evidence of his involvement now, or even why he’d done this, justfor anything that might point to where he had gone.
“I’m going tostart looking at potential locations he’s associated with,” Francesca said. “I’lllook at any he might own, but I also want to try adding in any place connectedwith his old work and cross-referencing with the locations he’s used as killsites for his previous murders.”
“I want to checktraffic camera footage,” Simon said. “The DMV says that he owns an old Chevysedan. If I can find it, maybe we can find him.”
