Chapter 9
While Michael worked with the Jacksonville FBI office to finish processing the room Matt and Kara shared, Ryder sat in the
small Sapphire Shoals security office with Brian Valdez and reviewed the video Brian had compiled.
Video throughout the resort confirmed what Brian had told him over the phone, but Ryder was most interested in the clip of
the person of interest spotted after Matt and Kara returned from racquetball.
It was his third time watching the segment of video where a maintenance worker was in view for only a few seconds pushing
a laundry bin in front of him. He wore pants, which was part of the uniform, but also long sleeves, and was the only maintenance
worker who seemed to be wearing long sleeves that Ryder could tell—Valdez confirmed that it was the correct uniform, but that
most of the guys wore short sleeves. The suspect wore a hat low across the brow.
About five foot nine, with a slim build. Because of the ballcap, Ryder couldn’t see his hair, but the skin at the back of the neck suggested the guy was most likely white.
There was a brief profile angle that made Ryder think this person wasn’t a man; just for a split second, Ryder knew in his
gut that this person was a woman.
But Ryder was an analyst; he never relied on feelings. He focused on facts, evidence, things he could prove or disprove. He
couldn’t state with certainty that their suspect was a woman. He need corroboration.
He saved that small fragment of the clip, then pulled up the section of video that Valdez had sent him earlier, the clip of
the individual pushing the laundry cart away from Matt and Kara’s room. Ryder didn’t want to read anything into it because
he thought their suspect was a woman, but was she walking like a woman? Could he make out breasts under the loose-fitting uniform, or
was he making an assumption?
“Do you have this person on any other feeds?” Ryder asked Valdez when he returned. Ryder’s eyes were dry and he blinked rapidly,
forcing himself to turn away from the video.
“That’s all we’ve found during the two-hour window, but my best guy is going through every recording for the twenty-four hours
leading up to the abduction, as you requested,” Valdez said.
“You’re certain you don’t recognize this person?” Ryder tapped on the frozen screen.
“No. He doesn’t work here. I personally talked to the head of Maintenance—he’s never seen the guy before.”
Ryder hesitated, not sure he wanted to plant the idea in Brian’s head. “Do you have any women working in Maintenance?”
“Sure, a few. Why?”
“Does this person look male or female?”
Brian looked at the still, then pressed Play, watched the ten-second clip. “Could be a woman, I guess. You’re thinking because
of how she walks?”
“That, but also the chin.” Ryder rewound, then froze the image on the best profile shot he’d found. It wasn’t sharp because he had to zoom in.
“I see that. It’s not real clear, but could be a woman. But even if it was someone I’ve met before, I don’t know that I would
recognize them from any of these images. I’d say this isn’t any of the women we have in Maintenance, but I wouldn’t swear
to it.”
“You told Detective Fuentes that Garrett Reid didn’t socialize much with staff but was still friendly and well-liked. Did
she ask if he had a girlfriend?”
Brian nodded. “I told her I never saw him with a woman, and his co-workers said he didn’t mention a girlfriend. You don’t
think a woman kidnapped your agents, do you?”
Ryder did think that—but he couldn’t prove it. The only lead was a surveillance video showing someone, possibly a woman, pushing a
laundry cart away from Matt and Kara’s suite toward the parking lot. But there was no proof they were in the cart.
He sent the clearest images he could extract to the team, noting that this was most likely the individual who had abducted
Matt and Kara.
He’d already forwarded all available video footage to the FBI lab—from twelve hours before Garrett Reid’s arrest through midnight
Sunday—along with the Ormond Beach restaurant surveillance from Saturday night. But without a clear image of the suspect,
even the FBI’s advanced software and facial recognition tools would struggle to identify them. Despite the footage being better
than average, processing it would still take days.
Fortunately, Tony Greer had prioritized the case. The entire tech unit at the lab was working on it. Ryder sent the head of
the unit the clip featuring the person of interest, along with time stamps, and asked for image enhancement and cross-referencing
with the rest of the footage. Then he texted his theory to the team.
Time wasn’t on their side. If this was a ransom attempt for Reid’s release, a demand would have come by now. If it was retribution for his arrest, Matt and Kara were probably dead.
Ryder was still deep in reviewing security footage when Jim Esteban came in and sat down. He looked exhausted.
“Did you learn anything at the crime lab?” Ryder asked, tearing his eyes away from the screen for a minute.
“Nothing useful yet. It’s a good team, and they’re working closely with both the state lab and Quantico. But even if we bump
everything to the top, some tests can’t be done instantaneously. There’s also analysis and verification. It’s a process. I’m
getting some of the preliminary reports tonight, and the ME and I concur on some of the chemical analysis. For example, we
know the victims were drugged with ketamine, but there was another inconclusive test of a possible narcotic that we’re going
to rerun at Quantico. Some drugs break up faster in the system.”
“Every little bit helps,” Ryder said.
“Dammit, kid. This is Matt and Kara.”
Jim pressed his fingers to his eyes and sighed.
“I know,” Ryder said quietly.
“I tried talking to Michael. He’s taking it hard, but he won’t discuss it. He’s like a wall.”
“He blames himself for the case against Reid falling apart.”
Jim scowled. “That’s bullshit, and you know it.”
“I didn’t say I agree,” Ryder said.
“We’ll find them,” Jim said firmly, as if to convince himself. Then he said to Ryder, “You think it’s a woman.”
“Yes, I do,” Ryder said. He turned back to the computer screen, looked at the frozen image, then restarted the feed so he
could go through it yet again.
“What does Catherine say?”
“She hasn’t responded.”
“Well, Michael’s still working with the Jacksonville office, but I talked to him before I came in here. We have a good idea about what happened yesterday.”
Ryder paused the recording again and gave Jim his full attention. “And?”
“Matt and Kara came back from racquetball and had breakfast on their patio, which overlooks the beach. There’s evidence that
someone was hiding in the bushes that separated their cottage from the neighbors’. The ground there is a combination of sand,
rocks, and soil, so we don’t have footprints, but there were freshly broken branches and the ERT is going over the entire
area looking for trace evidence—blood, skin, hair. In your picture, hair was trapped in the ball cap. Still, the suspect could
have taken off the cap or dropped a cigarette butt.”
Ryder almost laughed. Highly doubtful, but the point was taken: criminals often left something behind by which they could
be identified.
Jim continued. “We found a tranquilizer dart with dried blood on the tip. It’s already on the way to the lab for processing,
and since we have both Matt and Kara’s blood types and DNA on file, we should be able to identify it quickly.”
“They were shot with darts? I don’t remember reading that there were any injuries consistent with a tranq on previous victims,”
Ryder said.
“Because there was nothing identified in the autopsies. I sent the information to the ME and he’s going to review the reports
and photos again, but if they had been shot with a dart, the wound might not have been noticed because of other injuries,
time lapse, decomposition. And maybe the suspect used the darts with Matt and Kara because they are trained law enforcement
and he didn’t know if they were still checking their food.”
“Or because she’s a woman and might have needed them to remain unconscious for longer,” Ryder guessed.
“Good point,” Jim said.
“How fast would something like that knock them out?”
“Depends. A few seconds to a couple minutes. They’ll test the dart for common sedatives. Could be one of maybe a half dozen—my
bet is on ketamine or Telazol, but there are other options. Maybe a combination of drugs, if the shooter knows what they’re
doing. The fact that he or she took Matt and Kara gives me some comfort that they’re still alive.”
“And how long would they be unconscious?”
“I couldn’t say.” Jim leaned forward, put his hand on Ryder’s knee. “You listen to me, okay? They’re alive. They’re stashed
somewhere to make it seem like Garrett Reid is as innocent as the day he was born, but we know he’s behind it. They will be
fine. We will find them.”
Jim sounded confident, but his voice cracked at the end.
“Anyway.” Jim cleared his throat, continued. “There’s a chance we can trace the drugs. Ketamine, not so much—it’s very common—but
if it’s a mix or a different drug, we have a chance.”
How long would that take? Ryder wondered. How much time did Matt and Kara have?
Michael walked in, his face rigid and unreadable. “Jacksonville is rushing the labs. We don’t think that our suspect went
into their room. Nothing appears to be taken or disturbed, but they printed the place just in case. Two agents went to the
restaurant Matt and Kara ate at Saturday night, talked to staff—no one saw anything out of the ordinary, and the manager remembered
them because Kara ordered tequila straight up.” Michael’s lips twitched a bit, but he didn’t smile. “They talked to both Uber
drivers, neither believed they were followed, and one said Matt talked to him about Miami when he found out the driver grew
up in the same neighborhood. Neither driver has a criminal record, and both have family in the area.”
Brian stepped into the crowded room. “Agent Harris, the staff that interacted with your agents yesterday are all waiting outside
my office.”
“Thank you,” Michael said to Brian, then turned to Ryder and Jim. “You both good here?”
“I’m heading back to the morgue,” Jim said. “We’re going to take another look at the trace evidence, focusing on anything
that may help us narrow down where Reid took his victims.”
“Don’t go anywhere alone,” Michael snapped. “Jacksonville will assign you an agent.”
“Is that necessary?” Jim asked. “I’m not the face of this investigation and I wasn’t involved with the arrest.”
“No exceptions,” Michael said firmly. “Matt would insist, you know that.”
Jim relented. “Fine.”
“I’ll have an agent meet you here and escort you to the morgue,” Michael said. “Are you ready to leave?”
“Yes,” Jim said.
Michael was on his phone as he followed Brian out of the conference room. When he was out of earshot, Jim said to Ryder, “See
what I mean?”
“It’s hard on all of us,” Ryder said. “He’s processing differently.”
“He’s going to implode if he doesn’t acknowledge that he’s worried. I’m going to talk to Sloane. She’s good at getting Michael
to open up.”
He pulled out his phone and started texting, and Ryder went back to the security videos.
He had to find something—a face, a vehicle, anything that could pinpoint Garrett Reid’s partner.
Time was running out.