The Missing Pattern

In the Crosshairs Part 5

My pulse quickened as the gravity of it hit me. Twelve girls in twelve days. At this rate, we had less than twenty-four hours before the next one would be taken. I could feel the urgency clawing at me, pushing me to move faster, think faster, be faster.

"Then we stop it now," I said, a new determination settling in my chest. "They're taking a different girl every day. If we can narrow down the schools they haven't hit yet, we can focus our efforts and maybe get in front of this."

Reese nodded, her jaw set. "If we're right, they'll strike Bakersfield again next. That's where we need to focus."

I grabbed my phone, ready to issue orders, but a notification popped up—a flagged file from Thompson himself. Heart pounding, I opened it. It was a report from Richmond PD, my old department. Girls around the same age, similar ethnic diversity, disappearing from neighborhoods and schools. And it was dated a decade ago.

A chill ran through me. I could feel myself going cold as I skimmed the details, memories I hadn't let surface in years creeping in. These cases were eerily familiar. Cases I'd worked on, cases that had slipped through our fingers. I remembered every detail: the families, the heartbreak, the frustration.

"Calvin, look at this." I turned my phone toward him, unable to hide the tremor in my voice. "This happened before, in Richmond. This isn't new. Whoever's doing this has done it before—they're just resurfacing now."

He looked at the file, his face darkening. "We're dealing with an operation that's been dormant, waiting to start back up again. But this isn't a fresh operation. It's old, it's refined...and it's spreading."

The realization weighed heavily on me. We weren't dealing with something new. This was a network that had been perfecting its methods, slipping through cracks in different cities. It had vanished from Richmond but was back, with a vengeance.

Just then, my phone buzzed with another alert, the familiar dread twisting in my stomach. Another girl, missing from Bakersfield. Thirteen years old, last seen walking home.

I felt my heart drop as I read the message, a fierce anger bubbling up inside me. They'd taken another girl right under our noses.

"We're too late!" I snapped, my voice dripping with frustration. I slammed the phone down so hard the sound ricocheted off the walls, making everyone in the room jump. My pulse thundered in my ears, and a white-hot anger bubbled up, threatening to boil over.

"This is unacceptable," I bit out, glaring at the team, though I knew the anger wasn't really for them. "We missed her. We missed her because they're always one step ahead—slipping through our hands like they know exactly how we operate."

"God damn them," I yelled, the rage burning through my voice. "We can't let them keep doing this." I looked around the room, locking eyes with every agent. My gaze was hard as steel. "Three days. Three girls. They're playing us, moving fast, and we're always just one step behind. Every single time."

I felt the helplessness rise, fierce and bitter, but I forced it back, clenching my fists until they ached. "I don't care what it takes," I ground out, the words spilling over with anger. "Call in every officer within fifty miles if that's what we need. I want every favor called in, every lead combed over. Search every damn street corner, every inch of these towns. We *have* to stop them." My voice was sharp, nearly breaking, but no one flinched. They were angry too, just as ready to bring this nightmare to an end.

Reese looked at me, her brow creased. "Harper, you know how much manpower that'll take, what you're asking for. We'd need—"

"I know exactly what I'm asking for, Reese," I cut her off, the fire in my eyes practically daring anyone to challenge me. "I'm asking that this be treated like the threat it damn well is. And for anyone who's going to cry about the money, time, or resources—tell them I said don't. They can find volunteers. They can find the budget. I don't care. I'm not accepting excuses, just solutions."

Reese gave a tight nod, knowing better than to argue. "Alright, Kitty. We're all in."

"Good," I replied, softening just a touch but keeping my tone firm. "I want every precinct on high alert. Every school needs to call every family with an absent child. If they can't reach them, I want that information sent directly to local law enforcement immediately. I want an officer calling those families and if need heading out for a wellness check—right now. And get every CI we have on standby. I don't care if they think they can help with this case or not—they need to know it's all hands on deck. No delays, no hesitations."

The team scattered into action, and for a moment, I felt something shift. There was a crackle in the air—a feeling that maybe, this time, we were closing in.

As the team broke off, I stayed planted in place, my gaze fixed on the map littered with pins marking the girls' last known locations. The reality of their ordeal, the terror they must be feeling, weighed heavily on me. Each pin represented a life we hadn't saved yet—a young girl ripped from her family, now just a data point in our race against time.

The door creaked open behind me, and Thompson stepped in, his face grim. "Kitty," he said, his tone softer than usual, "you've got the entire Bureau's attention now. The higher-ups are coordinating with the California Bureau of Investigation and other agencies across the state. This is our priority case. I've pulled everyone I can, but..." His voice trailed off as he looked at the map. "You alright?"

The question caught me off guard. I opened my mouth to answer, but no words came. I wasn't alright. Not while these girls were still out there, in unimaginable danger. I swallowed hard, pushing my frustration aside. "I'll be fine once we bring them back," I said firmly. "But we're running out of time."

Thompson gave a brief nod, his gaze steady. "I know, Kitty. I've seen you like this before. Don't let this case drag you down that dark road again—we need you here, not waiting on a psych clearance. Believe me, we're going to take this operation down. But remember, you don't have to carry this weight alone."

I glanced at him, surprised by the uncharacteristic sentiment. But the moment passed as quickly as it came, and his usual professional demeanor returned. He gave a small, encouraging nod before leaving the room, letting the door close softly behind him.

Turning back to the map, I scrutinized each pin marking a girl's last known location. Every detail, every piece had to mean something. There was a missing link, one that could end this nightmare. I just had to find it.