"Yes," she replied forlornly, "I understand." There was a moment of silence so absolute, they could hear the soft crackle of the tissue paper she touched.

"Where is he, Cassie? What is he thinking?"

"He's safe. He knows he's safe." Her head tilted to one side, as though she were listening to a distant voice. "The cops will never find him now. Bastards. Stupid bastards. He left them all those clues and they never saw them."

Logan didn't allow himself to be distracted by the disturbing information. "Stop listening to him, Cassie. Look at what he's doing, where he's going."

"He's going… to get the girl. To take her to his secret place. He's ready for her now. He's ready to – "

"Where is it? What's around him, Cassie?"

"It's… dark. She's… he's got her tied up. He's got her tied up… in the backseat of a car. It's in a garage. He's getting into the car, starting the engine. Backing out of the garage. Oh! I can hear her crying…"

"Don't listen," Logan insisted. "Stay with him, Cassie. Tell me where he's going."

"I don't know." Her voice was desolate. "It's so dark. I can't see beyond the headlights."

"Watch, Cassie. Look for landmarks. What kind of road is he on?"

"It's… a blacktop. Two lanes. There are mailboxes, we're driving past mailboxes."

"Good, Cassie, that's good." He glanced aside at his partner, who grimaced helplessly, then returned his attention to that dark, bent head. "Keep looking. Keep watching. You have to tell us where he's going."

For a few moments there was nothing but the sound of her breathing, quick and shallow. And then, abruptly she said, "He's turning. The street sign says… Andover."

Logan 's partner moved a few steps away and began talking softly into a cell phone.