“Yes, these are homicides. Two deaths do not a serial make,” Laurel said, repeating a phrase she’d learned at Quantico.
Kate stretched out. “What’s your gut feeling?”
“I don’t have gut feelings. However, there’s a ritualistic aspect to these murders that indicate the killer’s compunction to continue.”
“They’re definitely not one-offs, are they?” Kate asked, drinking her coffee.
Laurel tried never to use guesswork, but these deaths were too similar to miss the implications. “It’s doubtful.” She glanced at her watch. “I wish we had completed autopsies from Dr. Ortega.”
“Do you want me to call him?” Kate offered. “It’s too quiet around here without Walter and Nester.”
“No. Thank you, though. Dr. Ortega must be overwhelmed right now. I know he’ll get to us as soon as he can.” But she needed to verify the cause of death in these murders.
“You think the victims were drowned?” Kate asked.
“Yes, but I won’t make any suppositions until we have facts.”
Kate turned to face the boards. “Who found the victim we’re pretty sure is Teri Bearing?”
“A man named Tim Kohnex. Nester’s conducting a full background check on the man right now, working remotely. He’s also still trying to find where Zeke Caine has been traveling the past several years.”
Kate nodded. “I heard Huck mention that this Kohnex fella thinks he’s psychic.”
“He believes the wind whispers to him,” Laurel said. “I guess that could be considered psychic. I don’t know.”
“What was your take on him?”
She hadn’t read much from his facial expressions. “He seemed . . . interesting,” she said. “Maybe lonely. He likes his dog. I find it odd that he goes walking by the river before the sun comes up. That’s perilous, no matter how well you know the terrain.”
“You think he could be our guy instead of Jason Abbott?”
“I have no idea, and we need to keep an open mind about these killings. Kohnex is tall and strong. If these women were drowned somehow, I would say he has the strength to do it.”
Kate eyed the picture of Kohnex Laurel had taped to the murder board after returning to the office. “Did he seem serial killer-ish to you?”
“I don’t know what that means.”
“Right,” Kate said, looking over at the board that prominently featured Jason Abbott. “Any news on Abbott’s whereabouts?”
Frustration crawled like ants beneath her skin. “No,” Laurel said. “I think it was good that we got word out to the public, but so far no leads have panned out.”
Kate snorted. “Yeah, I guess.”
There was an inflection in her tone, but Laurel couldn’t grasp its meaning. “Am I missing something?”
“No.” Kate placed her cup on the worn table. “After Huck’s interview, I guess half of the calls to the hotline have been to request his phone number.”
Laurel tilted her head. “The callers won’t give the information to the dispatch? They want to speak directly to the officer in charge?”
“Um, no,” Kate said. “They want his number.”
It took Laurel a second, and then realization hit. “They’re romantically interested in the captain.”
“Yeah, Laurel,” Kate said dryly. “One lady wanted to know his address so she could mail her bra to him.”
Laurel frowned. “Her bra? What would he do with her bra?”
“I don’t know. Use it as a slingshot?” Kate chuckled. “Anyway, dispatch is getting a kick out of the multiple requests to meet the captain.”
