“I thought the number was a couple thousand,” Huck said.
Laurel grimaced, shoving her gloved hands into her coat pockets. She needed thicker gloves because her fingers were starting to go numb. “That’s a statistic from a crime-tracking organization a few years back when we first started tracing kills by new DNA tracking capabilities. Remember that a serial killer is just defined as somebody who kills more than three people. The violent crimes unit is primarily focused on the ritual type of serial killing.”
“Okay. But I’ve heard you use the higher number before,” Huck mused.
Laurel nodded. It felt good to be discussing the case in the fresh outdoors, even though she couldn’t feel her nose. “Yes. When it’s expedient to get something accomplished for a case, I’ve used the number and might do so again. For the purposes of this discussion, let’s agree that there actually are around fifty active serial killers in this country right now.” She could guess where Huck was going with the conversation. “So the fact that we have two in Washington State is only twice what we’d expect, but . . .”
“But the fact that we have two right here in small Genesis Valley is a real statistical anomaly,” Huck said, his gaze focused on Aeneas scouting along the tree line.
Laurel hunched her shoulders against the frigid air. “You think there’s another factor at play.”
“Yeah. Why here and why now?” He looked down at her, his boots breaking leftover ice on the driveway. “You’re here. We received a lot of media attention after the Snowblood Peak cases.”
Laurel grimaced. “I don’t think it’s me, Huck.” She hadn’t seen any sign that the killer had focused on her. “This murderer kills out of rage, not calculation. This isn’t a game he’s playing. He’s not trying to challenge us.” The crime scenes flicked through her mind like a slow-motion movie. “He’s out of control, except for the flowers. Those are his ritual, which he has to finish. The flowers are a statement, something between him and the victim. It’s personal for him.”
“So the appearance of a second serial killer in Genesis Valley is just a coincidence?”
“I don’t know.” It wasn’t as if Washington State hadn’t had its share of serial killers through the decades. There was something about the remote, wild, icy surroundings that helped hide bodies. But these bodies weren’t hidden, were they? “Another element to the profile,” she murmured. “He kills them where they are living. Where they’ve gone to hide.” It could be a coincidence, but perhaps not. “It’s another way to show he’s smarter and stronger than his victims. They can’t get away from him, no matter how far they run.” She shivered.
“So you don’t think the location, here in Genesis Valley, is the key?”
She slipped and quickly regained her balance. “No. I think the real question iswhy now? Why has he started murdering women and leaving black dahlias around their bodies right now? What tipped him into this murderous rage?” She needed those phone extractions from the victims and would have to push Nester on it in the morning.
Huck hunched his shoulders against the cold. “We need to find him to know that, I think. I’m not convinced the timing and location of these kills isn’t related to you.”
Laurel pivoted to return to the warm home, mulling over the case and Huck’s concerns. “Maybe it’s all about you, Huck. Have you thought about that?”
“Yeah.” He sighed. “I have thought about that.”
Chapter Seventeen
After another fitful night of frightening dreams dripping with aporia, Laurel placed a latte on Kate’s pastry case.
“Just a second,” Kate said into her phone, holding the device away from her face. “You have somebody in the conference room. She came in, and Walter immediately took her back. That’s all I know.” She returned to her phone call.
At least Walter was feeling better. Laurel strode around the glass case and through the center door, walking down the hallway and pausing at the computer room.
Nester looked up, today dressed in a blue button-down shirt with a coffee stain already on his right sleeve. “I know, boss. I’m on the Seattle office for the phone dump, and they’re messing me around. Well, not messing me around, but I’m definitely not a priority. I’ve applied for access to the entire system, and I’m just waiting to get it so we don’t have to go through this again.” He scratched his chin. “I have the warrant, and they have the connections with the carriers, but maybe I should go around them?”
Laurel pushed a latte across his makeshift desk. “Throw in a threat or two and say we need the results within an hour. They probably have the data.” She didn’t have time for an interoffice agency problem. “Tell them the press is on us and we’re going to say something. Or hint at it.” She wasn’t good with subtext.
“Cool.” Nester reached for his phone.
That was probably not the correct plan. Laurel turned back down the hallway to the conference room. A woman sat at the head of the table. She was stunning, with angled features, blond hair to her shoulders, and a slim figure. She flicked through something on her phone, muttering as she did so.
“Hello?” Laurel walked into the room, already feeling warm from the heat blasting from the vents.
“Hello.” The woman looked up, and her eyes were a light brown. “You must be Special Agent in Charge Laurel Snow.”
Laurel unbuttoned her heavy wool coat and placed it on a seat. “I must be. How can I help you?”
“I’m Dr. Christine Franklin.” The doctor had to be in her mid to late thirties. Perhaps early forties.
Walter hurried from the restrooms to the door. “Hi, Laurel. We have a problem.” His face was still pale and his complexion wan, but his voice was clear. Yet his gray suit looked rumpled and a size too small. “This is Dr. Franklin, and she saw the news report this morning.”
Laurel unwrapped her scarf and tossed it over her coat. “Do you have information for our case, Dr. Franklin?” She pulled out one of the luxurious white chairs and sat.
“Please, call me Christine. I think I’m being stalked by the killer.” The doctor slid her phone toward Laurel. “I found those on my front porch three nights ago and thought it odd. But I was exhausted after a fifteen-hour shift and had to return to work shortly, so I just forgot about it. Once I started thinking about the situation, I realized that quite a few odd things have happened lately.” Her voice remained controlled, her presentation logical.
