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  “Taking the ring and dress into consideration, one would assume so. Police haven’t tracked him down yet, though, and there are no indications in Tara’s apartment that she was in a relationship. Like I said, I’m afraid the only glaring similarities, besides their murders, are their vicinity and age range.”

  “Nadia, find out if Glen Little crossed paths with the first victim during previous employment or otherwise.”

  “You got it.”

  “Thanks, Nadia. Make sure you send anything else on these cases our way immediately.”

  The monitor went black. I observed the sharp lines of Jack’s features. His intention, like the rest of the team’s, was to find the man who had murdered these beautiful women. They were too young to die. They’d had so much of their lives ahead of them. I wasn’t much older.

  My heart went out to their families, but my job wasn’t about getting sentimental. It was about bringing killers to justice.

  Jack pointed the cigarette at the three of us, sweeping it back and forth. “Study your copy of the case files, and when we touch down, we’ll pick up a couple of rentals at the airport and go straight to the scene. From there, we’ll discuss our next steps.”

  -

  Chapter 3

  TARA DAY LIVED IN A three-story apartment building near the Columbia Mall. The pattern of its brick facade made it appear as if it were freckled. The redeeming aspect to the property was the lush greenery, and each unit had either a balcony or patio. Tara’s apartment was on the second floor.

  A couple of crime scene investigators were working over her residence, and I suspected they’d be there for hours yet. Collecting evidence in a murder case wasn’t a quick job as it was portrayed on TV. It took time and diligence.

  The case file told us Tara’s time of death was placed between midnight and three AM yesterday. Police found her at nine AM after receiving a call from her coworker, just as Nadia had said.

  A man I pegged as the lead detective met us at the door. His attention went straight to Jack. My boss just had a way about him. His aura demanded acknowledgment. To those on the outside, there would be no mistaking he was the one in charge.

  “Supervisory Special Agent Jack Harper?” the detective asked.

  Jack nodded and didn’t initiate a handshake. Neither did the detective.

  “My name’s Detective Russell Powers and—” He looked behind him, searching for someone.

  A man in his early thirties hurried over, and I recognized something of myself in him. I had a tendency to run late for things, too, and sometimes it felt as if I was constantly playing catch up.

  He smiled at us, his eyes shooting straight to Paige. Maybe we were too much alike. As his gaze settled on her, he bit his bottom lip, as if he thought it made him attractive. His nose was bulbous and too big for his face, and his hair was cropped short and came to a point in the middle of his brow. He extended his hand to Paige.

  “This is Sam Barber.” Powers made the introduction, but it seemed Barber was getting around fine by himself.

  He ended the rounds with me. His shake was firm, and the glint in his eyes told me he was interested in staking claim to Paige. I pressed on a grin, doing my best to make it appear sincere.

  “So fill us in. What are we looking at here?” Jack asked. It was part of his tactic. He preferred to be briefed at the scene. He didn’t like relying on what came to us secondhand through reports. He liked to hear it from the detective’s mouth.

  “We’ve got a female victim. Tara Day. I assume you know most of what we do at this point.”

  I fought a smirk. Powers wasn’t one to play the game, either. He and Jack must have been separated at birth. Like Jack, Powers had a hardened gaze and scowl lines around his mouth. Powers seemed to be in his forties while Jack was in his early fifties. Powers’s hair was receding on the sides, leaving a rounded patch of hair in the middle of his head. Jack had a full mop of hair.

  “Hmm.” Jack brushed past Powers into the apartment. The rest of us followed. It was clear that Jack wasn’t impressed with Powers’s lack of cooperation.

  The layout of the place was simplistic with a galley kitchen to the left of the entry. A living area was straight ahead. The furniture was basic and low-end. Maybe even used.

  Powers guided us down a side hallway. “She was found in the bathroom.”

  The bedroom was on the left, and the bathroom on the right. Powers stopped outside the door. It was compact with the sink and toilet squeezed next to a regular-sized bathtub.

  “It’s a tight space,” I said, verbalizing my observation.

  “It is. The killer didn’t have much room to work with, but as you know, she wasn’t killed here,” Powers said.

  “She was suffocated in her bed,” Zachery pitched in. He knew this from the case file.

  “Based on the state of the bed—the sheets were all tangled up—that’s the way we’re leaning.”

  “So, afterward, he dragged her lifeless body to the tub?” I asked.

  “Your name again?” Powers’s eyes were sharp and lasered in on mine.

  “Special Agent Fisher.”

  The hint of a simper twitched Powers’s lips. It wasn’t hard to surmise what he was thinking—possibly career envy. After all, detectives never had special added to their job titles. It wasn’t just that, though. In this case, there was derision and judgment painted on his expression. Too bad if the man thought it was egotistical. I had worked hard for the title and had two months before my probation period was over and it was officially mine.

  “Well, Special Agent Fisher, first he dressed her in a wedding gown, then he placed her in the tub.”

  “And the dress was hers?” Paige asked.

  Barber entered the conversation. “It seems to be. We found the box it would have come in.”

  “While the gown and ring were hers, the veil wasn’t a match to the dress,” Powers said.

  “Something borrowed?” Paige asked.

  “I noticed that in the case file. Its design was different from the dress,” Zachery said.

  “That’s right. The veil had a rosebud wreath, and while her dress had intricate lace rose patterns, there were no buds. It also had a tinge of yellow to it.”

  I glanced at Paige. “Sounds more like something old. It also goes back to what was mentioned about him recreating what he had seen.”

  Jack shot me a look to keep quiet. There would be plenty of time to discuss the case once we left here.

  Powers looked between Jack and me. He caught Jack’s glare but didn’t bother pressing for more about what I had said. I was thankful to him for leaving it alone.

  “Have you found her fiancé?” Paige asked.

  “Not yet, but we are looking into that,” Barber answered.

  “We’ll take it from here,” Jack said to the detectives. “Has the family been notified?”

  “They will be this morning. We weren’t able to get in contact with them yesterday,” Powers responded. “The medical examiner is expecting you tomorrow for the autopsy. He’s quite confident on the cause of death, though. The killer got on top of Tara and suffocated her.”

  “Compressive asphyxiation,” Zachery added.

  Powers appeared about as pleased to be interrupted as Jack did when it happened to him. “That’s right. He’ll also have all the forensic evidence cataloged for you then.”

  “Detective?” An investigator came toward our group, her gaze on Powers. She held a plastic bag with a slip of paper inside. “We just found this.” She paused, acknowledging the rest of us. Her cheeks flushed, seemingly shy around new people.

  “These people are special agents with the FBI.” Powers looked at me as he gave the generic introduction. He wanted to make sure I didn’t miss the special part. “This is Tammy.”

 
“Hi.” Tammy rushed to continue. “This receipt was found in her kitchen garbage can. It’s dated for last night at seven.”

  Powers took the bag from her and examined the receipt. He then extended it to Jack, and Jack passed it on to us.

  I read the name of the bar, Down the Hatch. The cashier number was 007. Tara’s tab came to fifteen dollars. It was a detailed receipt showing two apple martinis. The time stamp, as Tammy had noted, was seven o’clock at night. Early by most standards. Did she meet the unsub at the bar?

  I handed the evidence bag back to Tammy, and she left to file it.

  Jack addressed me and my colleagues. “Let’s see what we can find out at that bar.”

  -

  Chapter 4

  WE GOT SITUATED IN A room down at the police station to discuss the case and draw comparisons between Cheryl Bradley and Tara Day. The room had a conference table and a magnetic whiteboard, and we put the pictures of the women side by side. Cheryl’s picture was one provided by family and Tara’s was her driver’s license photo.

  There was a year between them, and there were only two victims so far, but the killer’s tactics garnered as much attention as any serial killer. As Nadia had confirmed on the plane, a search of various databases hadn’t revealed any similar cases in the United States prior to Cheryl’s murder. It didn’t mean he didn’t have victims elsewhere in the world. Our killer may have relocated and changed his methods. But I didn’t think he had taken anyone’s life before Cheryl. I thought she was his trigger. Call it a gut feeling, but I said as much to the team.

  “It’s quite possible Pending’s right, boss,” Zachery said.

  I rolled my eyes. He hadn’t pulled out his nickname for me yet today, so I guessed it was time. Seeing as it was a joke about my probationary period, I hoped he would stop calling me that when it ended. I didn’t have a nickname for him. I barely knew the guy. I didn’t even feel comfortable calling him Zach yet, as Paige and Jack both did.

  “I agree,” Paige said. “But what was special about Cheryl that made him start killing twelve months ago?”

  “Nadia had mentioned her ex-fiancé saying she was a flirt. She could have betrayed him.” I brainstormed out loud.

  “You’re forgetting he had an alibi. He was with another woman at the time. You have to love how the guy breaks up with her for a wandering eye and then he’s with someone else so quickly.”

  “They weren’t engaged anymore, Paige.” A blanket justification. I knew I wasn’t anyone to judge morals. I had cheated on my wife during my training with the FBI. It just so happened I had to face the one I broke my vows for every day. She was glaring at me now.

  “Moot point. He moved on rather soon.”

  “Paige is right. He ended their relationship only a few days before,” Zachery said.

  “So he was hurting and found comfort in the—”

  “Enough.” Jack tapped his shirt pocket. It was hard to believe he was already craving another cigarette when he’d had his last one within the hour. But then again, this was Jack. “What else do you guys see?”

  “He is organized. He doesn’t leave any trace. From the evidence gathered to this point, no fingerprints, no DNA,” Zachery summarized.

  “And he doesn’t have sexual intercourse with his victims,” Paige added.

  “Is it because he can’t or he chooses not to?” I asked. It was worthy of consideration.

  Zachery nodded. “There doesn’t seem to be anything to indicate he’s using other means to defile the women either pre- or postmortem.”

  Paige’s face scrunched at Zachery’s words.

  “What? It’s true.”

  “I know, but it sounds awful.”

  While they were having their back-and-forth, my attention was on the photographs, specifically the most recent photos we had of the women alive.

  The two women were almost stark opposites in terms of their coloring, I noticed again. Cheryl had brown hair and brown eyes; Tara had blond hair and gray eyes. It took me back to our discussion on the plane. “We had theorized that he may be recreating a scene, but the victims’ features don’t match.” I drew my finger between the two photos.

  “They don’t, but their ages are close. Their living proximity was close,” Paige said.

  “The dates of their murders are the same, too,” Zachery added. “Their looks might not matter.”

  “Why is that?” I asked.

  “Maybe it has to do with recreating a feeling? By killing the women, he thinks he’s doing them a favor? Freeing them somehow,” Zachery said.

  My gaze went back to the photographs. Both women appeared at peace. It was in the way their mouths rested, slightly curved even, like they were almost smiling.

  “I find the veil to be interesting,” Jack said.

  “The fact that the design didn’t match Tara’s dress? Maybe he bought it from a thrift store,” I offered.

  “Not what I mean,” Jack continued. “While it’s interesting the veil design is a dated one, I was thinking about why he lifted their veils. He wanted to see their faces without obstruction.”

  “It was likely personal,” Paige added. “He was probably connected to both women on at least a platonic level.”

  “It suggests someone they knew and maybe even trusted,” Zachery said.

  “He would have also known they had wedding gowns,” I said. “And rings.”

  Paige tapped her finger on the table. “He might work in the wedding industry—at a bridal shop, caterer, or florist.”

  “Good thinking, Paige,” Jack said.

  “Thanks.” She beamed.

  It wasn’t often praise came from Jack and I didn’t want to dampen her moment, but I was inclined to point out that we didn’t have enough info yet to presume anything there. “Cheryl was engaged at one point, but we don’t have evidence, beyond the dress and ring, that Tara was.”

  The room fell quiet. Zachery shook his head, and Paige grimaced. I wasn’t going to brave looking at Jack.

  “I mean, one would assume, but you know what that means… You make an ass out of…” I couldn’t bring myself to finish the sentence. If I were a comic, I’d be running offstage at my attempt at humor. “And the date he chooses must have meaning.” No response. I rambled on. “Tara’s bar receipt being for seven in the evening was rather early in my opinion. Was she meeting someone for a drink? She could have been nervous.”

  “True. She might have been drinking to take the edge off. But then again, we’re assuming she arrived early for a date,” Zachery said.

  “Well, let’s find out. You and Paige go to Down the Hatch, and Brandon and I will speak with Tara’s coworker.”

  “Sounds good, boss.” Zachery was dying to say something else. It was written all over his face. “This whole thing, the way he leaves them in tub… Now, it’s different, but it makes me think of the Brides in the Bath Murders. Back in the early nineteen hundreds a man was convicted of murdering three of his wives. All of them were found in bathtubs.”

  “And they were suffocated?” I asked.

  “No, drowned. This case makes me think of it, that’s all.”

  Sometimes there was no explaining how Zachery’s mind worked, but then again, I wasn’t a certified genius.

  -

  Chapter 5

  SOMETHING OLD, SOMETHING NEW, SOMETHING borrowed, something blue.

  The phrase kept repeating in Paige’s head. She had originally pegged the veil as the something borrowed, but Brandon was right in looking at it as the something old. The gown would be the something new. They hadn’t expanded on this line of reasoning as a team yet, but if the killer was operating from this perspective, they needed to figure out what was borrowed and what was blue.

  Zach was driving while she studied photographs of the women in th
e bathtubs on her phone.

  Something borrowed…

  Her eyes traced to the jewels adorning the women’s necks and earlobes. It was common for brides to wear heirloom pieces as their something borrowed, but this didn’t seem to be the case for the two victims. Cheryl wore a diamond necklace with a teardrop pendant and studs. Tara’s silver chain had a round charm, but her earrings were teardrops—visually an exact pairing to Cheryl’s pendant.

  Her heart started beating fast. She held up the photos, even though Zach wouldn’t be able to look at them until he parked the car or they hit a red light. At this rate, it would be the former as they were sailing through every intersection.

  He glanced over at her. “What is it? You look like you’re going to be ill.”

  “The earrings are the something borrowed.” Speaking the words made bile rise in the back of her throat. He was waiting for her explanation. She shared how the popular phrase could tie into this investigation. She told him it appeared that Tara wore the earrings that went with Cheryl’s necklace.

  “Genius from a killer’s standpoint.”

  “And relatively easy to overlook.”

  “I’d like to think I would have caught it.”

  Only Zach could say something like that and not come across as arrogant. She smiled at his profile. He was back to looking out the windshield.

  “So he took the earrings from Cheryl to put them on Tara. It shows premeditation,” Zach said.

  “Yes. He planned to kill again. Do you think he’ll wait until next year to strike again?”

  “Who knows, but he might start feeling the power now. I could be wrong, but with Cheryl, it’s possible he experienced remorse but also euphoria at the fact that he got away with it. Now he’s done it again. If he realizes we’ve been called in, it might change things for him. It might have changed, regardless. Once you’ve done something the first time, the second time isn’t as hard.” He glanced over at her.