‘Okay.’
‘In both cases the killer kept the victim alive for roughly one week before taking out his scalpel and saw. Lucinda Cassidy disappeared early Friday morning. If it is the same guy and if he follows the same pattern –’
‘She’s scheduled for surgery in four days.’
‘Give or take.’
Lund looked thoughtful. ‘Unfortunately, not a whole lot of what you’ve got connects to Spencer.’
‘At the moment he’s all I’ve got.’
‘Okay. Write it up. We’ll take it to Judge Washburn. Paula doesn’t hang out at the Pemaquid Club, and she’s not one to be impressed by Spencer’s social standing. I think she’ll sign it.’
Washburn was an older district court judge, nearing retirement. McCabe had never met her, but her reputation was ‘tough but fair’ and ‘doesn’t suffer fools lightly.’ He hoped she was the right choice.
Back at Middle Street, Starbucks already had Katie’s hard drive wired into his computer. ‘I’m making some progress,’ he announced. Maggie and McCabe peered over his shoulder at the screen. ‘No problem getting in. She always used the same password, SOCCERGIRL07. I checked all her e-mails. Received, sent, and saved at Gmail and RoadRunner. Nothing stood out, but you may want to review them.’ He handed McCabe a CD.
‘In her address books,’ asked Maggie, ‘did you find the name Harry Lime?’
‘Lime? L-I-M-E?’ He reviewed the list. ‘No. Nothing like that. However, there were a couple of bookmarked Web sites you may want to know about.’
‘Like what?’
‘First, she had a personal profile page on a social networking site called OurPlace. She used it to communicate with her electronic network of friends. A lot of the kids do.’
McCabe was vaguely familiar with the site. He wondered if Casey was signed up. Accessing Katie’s contacts on the site could widen the circle of possible suspects. Or maybe narrow it.
‘Is the site open to predators?’ he asked.
‘I think so,’ said Starbucks. ‘They claim that they offer a lot of privacy protection, but it’s not all that tight. We’re getting the list of her contacts from the company. She was also registered with a dating service called Heartthrob.com. Do you know it? Anybody looking for pretty young girls could find pictures, a profile, and easy ways to make contact. I know many people who’ve used it. Including myself. I’ve met several very nice young ladies.’
McCabe imagined the young Somali trolling for dates on the Internet. Odd. He’d never thought of Starbucks as having any social life at all. ‘How would the wrong person gain access?’
‘Easy,’ said Maggie. ‘Just register using a phony name and e-mail address and you can contact any target who looks appealing. Exchange e-mails and photos, make dates. Whatever.’
‘Does anyone keep a record of contacts made?’
‘The site is supposed to,’ said Starbucks. ‘Again we’re trying to get a list, but they, too, have privacy issues, so we’ll probably have to wait until that’s sorted out.’
McCabe went back to his desk hoping to come up with enough probable cause to justify a warrant to search Harriet Spencer’s Lexus and the house at 24 Trinity Street. Lund called just as he was finishing up. ‘Unfortunately,’ he said, ‘Judge Washburn’s out of town until late tomorrow afternoon.’
‘Shit. That shoots twenty-four hours. How about trying somebody else?’
‘I thought about that, but I think Washburn gives us the best shot of actually getting the warrant. I say we wait.’
McCabe wasn’t happy with the idea of waiting, but he reluctantly agreed.
‘In the meantime, do you have an affidavit you’re prepared to swear to?’ asked Lund.
‘Ready to go.’
‘Stop by my office and let me eyeball it, see if it needs any changes.’
Before going to Lund’s, McCabe called Aaron Cahill.
‘How you doin’, McCabe?’ The deep voice of the Orlando cop boomed out of the phone. It was almost comforting. ‘Solved your heart case yet?’
‘Looks like we’re chasing the same whacko, Aaron. Harry Lime’s business card turned up in our victim’s dresser drawer.’
‘Well, do tell. Does the card say what Harry does for a living? Aside from cutting up pretty girls, I mean?’
‘Assistant athletic director, University of West Florida.’
‘I assume the card’s a phony?’
‘Yeah. Nobody named Lime works at the university. The number printed on the card is an unassigned extension at Florida Power and Light.’
‘Hmm. School’s up in Pensacola. Not far from where my mama lives. Fax me a copy of the card. I’ll nose around. See what I can find out. Anything else to report?’
McCabe filled Cahill in on the conversations with Tobin Kenney and Joanne Ceglia. ‘Not much to go on,’ he added.
‘At least you’ve got a partial ID.’
‘From the rear.’