Taken (Second Sight)
“Mac looked around at the anxious faces, the chatter and heated discussions a dull roar. The bomb squad had quickly determined that a refillable mortar of fireworks had been set off in the bathroom on the eighth floor. It’d been so damn simple Mac had almost laughed–almost.
And the audacity.
Mac clenched his jaw.
The Chameleon had struck quickly and right in their own backyard. It was more than being cocky. It bordered on suicidal. “All right, everybody,” Mac yelled over the din. “Quiet down. Quiet down.” He waited a few moments. “I need your attention, people.”
Slowly, quiet settled over the group.
“Let’s go around the room and see what we’ve got,” Mac said, standing in front of the large glass board. A photo of each victim ran across the top and, beneath each, was a column of data related to them. Isabelle’s photo now occupied a space at far right.
“Sergeant Dixon,” Mac said. Dixon stood up from the desk he’d been sitting on and read from his notepad. “Nothing from hospitals,”
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