I said, “Last summer when I was tracking Blake in Detroit, we pinpointed one of the shipping companies that was bringing the mannequins over from Russia. Let’s take a look at connections between the two companies.”

DeYoung checked his phone. “Yes, yes, yes. And this might be just what we’re looking for. Reese—the chemist from Phoenix—is talking. He’s scared, wants his family protected.”

“What’d he have to say?” I asked.

“Well, he’s at the Phoenix Field Office now. I’ll see if we can get patched through for a conference call.”

While we waited for his receptionist, Annalise, to set it up, he again addressed the question of how the Matchmaker was getting the suicide victims to engage in such gruesome deaths.

“The Selzucaine?” one of the team members suggested.

“Maybe,” I said. “But I’m not convinced that’s the only thing involved. Earlier we were looking into who might benefit from the person’s death, but what if it’s not a person?”

“Not a person?” DeYoung said with some confusion. “Then who?”

“Or what. Something Sabian mentioned when we were at his place: charities. If the people who died made large donations to charities or nonprofits before their deaths or had anonymous gifts given in their names around the times of their deaths, then that might be a way to trace back who the observer was.”

Thurman agreed to look into it.

Annalise returned and announced that everything was ready. DeYoung put the conference call on speakerphone and conferred briefly with the agent in charge in Phoenix, then Reese came on.

“They’re going to be shipping out the drugs today,” he told us.

“When?” I asked.

“They would have treated them when they arrived this morning. They’ll send them out this afternoon. Based on everything I know, I’d say two o’clock your time, at the latest.”

“Where are they now?” DeYoung said.

“I don’t know.”

“Can you find out?”

“No. They’ve always contacted me. I’ve never reached out to them.”

“There’s a first time for everything,” Thurman interjected. “If you want immunity or witness protection for you and your family, we’re going to need specifics.”

There was a pause on the line.

“Are you still there, Mr. Reese?” I said.

“Yes,” he replied. “I do have a number, but I’m not sure what’ll happen if I call it. I need to know that my family will be safe first.”

“The Bureau will do all that’s necessary to protect you,” DeYoung assured him. “But we need anything you have so we can move on it. And we need it now to stop those mannequins from being shipped out.”

“Mannequins? What do you mean?”

“The drugs,” DeYoung clarified.

“You said mannequins?”

“Yes.”

I found it informative that Reese apparently wasn’t aware of how the Selzucaine was being shipped.