“So, you’re saying that MacKenzie was almost the fourth victim of a fucking serial killer?” I shout because, damn it, that pisses me off and scares the shit out of me at the same time.
“That shouldn’t come as a complete surprise. We talked about this possibility after her break-in.”
“Yeah, but a serial killer?” I repeat. “That’s seriously screwed up, Hank.”
“The other part of this, you know. We suspected something at her place after the break-in; the other victims had similar incidents, but they hadn’t called the police since nothing was stolen. Nothing that they knew of, anyway.”
“Why would he take the medals?”
“We’re not sure. That wasn’t the same MO as the other victims. And, as you know, there weren’t any prints on the medals.”
After I’d found the medals, I placed them, with gloved hands, into a plastic bag and taken them to Hank. They photographed and fingerprinted everything, but they’d been wiped clean. They only came up with the prints from the pawnshop owner. Not even MacKenzie’s prints remained.
“So we can’t get anything on those, but we’ve got a judge to sign off on a warrant for the surveillance tapes at that pawnshop. We should have those this week.”
“What about the towel? Can’t you get DNA from that?”
“It wasn’t bodily fluid. It was some kind of hair product.”
“Why would he do that? That’s fucked-up.” Not like jacking off into someone’s towel isn’t disgusting enough.
“To toy with her. Possibly to scare her, but he did something like that to each victim. At least according to their friends.Like I said, none of the first three vics called in a break-in, unfortunately.”
“So MacKenzie’s in danger. You think this guy will try to get at her again.”
“Difficult to say, but I would err on the side of caution. I wouldn’t let her go back to her place just yet.”
“The hell with that. She’s never going back to that hellhole neighborhood.”
“Really? You making this permanent—puttin’ a ring on it?” Flynn smirks.
“Maybe.” Am I putting a ring on it? “Possibly.”
Hank Flynn chuckles and slaps me on the back. “I’ll be back later. We’ll talk more then. I need to brief the captain.”
“Before you go”—I point at the plastic bag at his feet. I know what’s in there; I just need confirmation—“what’s in the bag?”
“MacKenzie’s clothes.”
“Her coat?”
“Yeah. Why?”
I know what happens to clothing when the crime scene investigators get ahold of it. They’ll cut out sections for DNA testing, but I have to ask, “Can I have that coat when you’re finished doing whatever to it? It means a lot to MacKenzie. It was her grandfather’s coat.”
“It’ll be fucked-up after they do their thing,” he says warningly.
“I know. Well aware.”
“We’ll have it a while, but I’ll let you know when we’re finished up with it.”
We shake hands. “Oh, before I forget. Text me as soon as you release Bobby. MacKenzie is upset about him. She’s not gonna rest until he’s released.”
“I know. I’ve already got a call in to the captain. I should know within the hour.”
“Great. Thanks, Hank.” I walk back into the hospital. I make my way back to MacKenzie’s small room and see Lauren just outside sending a text on her phone. “She’s going to be okay, Lauren. They’re going to keep her overnight.”
“I heard. I can’t believe someone did this to her.”
