one. There were more than a dozen agents behind him this time. Roper had clearly gotten the word out when the second package had arrived. Savich, knowing there was no choice, motioned them all into the conference room.
“It’s the same, marked ‘PERSONAL,’ to you, Savich.” Roper was broadcasting excitement.
Everyone crowded around as Savich slit open the box and lifted out another red box. “Only a day after the first red box arrived, as expected.” Savich carefully unfolded the red paper. “Either good luck or very fine planning.”
No one was surprised to see more puzzle pieces. Once they were fitted together and placed above the pieces from yesterday, they showed more buildings, part of a commercial area, but no printed names that could identify them, and a single street sign—Main. There was also more of the ancient pier, the focal point. Was the town on the Potomac? The Chesapeake?
Agent Davis Sullivan said, “Looks like the wacko added a few more bones, nothing else. And how did he manage to find a time when no one was around to snap a photograph?”
No one had an answer for that.
Lucy said, “It has to be a photograph someone took, not a precut puzzle you’d buy. There are tons of companies that take photos you send and make them into puzzles, like Shutterfly. I looked some up. There’s Puzzleyou.com and goodness, even Walgreens does it, pages of them and that’s only here in the U.S.”
Sherlock said, “The person who’s red-boxing you could even have access to whatever equipment he’d need and make the puzzle himself.”
Ruth said, “And that would make him as good as invisible. We couldn’t track him.”
Ollie said, “I’m wondering if there’s more than one person involved, and that means—”
Shirley finished his sentence. “—the greater the chance of our catching them.”
Savich looked around at the group of agents. “We have more now, but still not enough. I don’t suppose anyone recognizes this place?”
To everyone’s surprise, a woman’s voice called out, “Yes, I do. It’s my hometown, St. Lumis, Maryland, on the Delmarva Peninsula, south of Mayo in Anne Arundel County, right on the Chesapeake.” At the blank looks, she added, “Just south of Annapolis. Yes, I’m sure. Growing up, I fished off that pier with my mom for striped bass and red drum.” She paused, added, “But I don’t remember any dead seagulls on the pier or human bones on the sidewalk.”
Everyone in the conference stared at Agent Pippa Cinelli. She was newly assigned to the CID, the Criminal Investigative Division, one of the recent stars to graduate Quantico. Most everyone was aware of who she was, even if they hadn’t been introduced. She was tall with long blond hair worn in a French braid, green eyes, a looker, no doubt about that. And at the moment, she was munching on a bagel, a dot of cream cheese on her upper lip. She popped the last bit of bagel into her mouth, patted her upper lip with a paper napkin, pulled out her cell, and scrolled through her photos. “Here we go, way back in my archives.” She handed her cell to Savich. “St. Lumis is a destination for weekenders who know the area, mostly. There are nice beaches, good fishing, and it’s rarely too hot in the summer. It’s a cute town, with a few tourist shops. At least that was true seven years ago, the last time I visited.” She smiled. “My family moved to Boston, so no, I don’t have any relatives left in town. Now? I’ll bet it’s probably triple the size.” She stuck out her hand. “We haven’t met, Agent Savich. I’m Agent Pippa Cinelli, Financial Crimes.”
Savich shook her hand, smiled really big. Did she realize she’d made his day?
Pippa was looking at the puzzle again. “Everything looks the same. Almost. The person who sent this is seriously disturbed.”
Agent Davis Sullivan said, “Or crazy like a fox. Why would this wack job send Savich puzzle pieces to put together of your hometown, Cinelli? And with the bones and dead birds? Did something horrific happen there? Something that might have involved Savich personally? Is the puzzle announcing some sort of weird payback?”
Everyone thought about this. Pippa said, “I can’t remember hearing about anything really bad happening, nothing violent, only what you’d expect—domestic violence, pilfering from local stores, some vagrancy, but no murders. We were neighbors with the chief of police, Barnabas Cosby.” She turned to Savich. “You want me to call, see if he’s still there? See if he