“Wanna tell me anything else?”
“Yeah, they were wearing Russian-made boots, using Russian shells, and had Russian-used weapons. I think both attacks are related.”
Terry and Ian went back a long way to when Terry served as a green CIA field analyst in Afghanistan, where they met. “Someone wants to kill a friend. She’s important to me.”
Terry picked up the materials. “Well, hot damn. Ian Chase is coming off the market.”
“You always had a sharp eye. How are Karen and the girls?” They spent some time reminiscing before Ian left.
* * *
Andy Blake sat at his desk in the second district’s detective unit. The fifteen-minute meeting with his lieutenant went better than he expected. She gave him permission to continue working Cassie’s case and lightened his remaining caseload. This time, Beltway politics worked in his favor—and dropping the Chase name didn’t hurt.
The old wood desk was stacked with files. Dead center sat two pictures of Cassie—one taken after her attack six years earlier and one taken right after the stabbing, reminders of his mission. Across the top were photos of the girls who died with MO’s similar to Cassie’s attack. Their fresh young faces shone up at him.
“They were all young, wealthy, and sheltered.” He sipped a cup of cold coffee. “What else do you have in common?”
Javier parked his behind on the desk’s corner. “You’ve been here all night. Thought you’d need this.” He passed Andy a fresh cup of coffee.
“Javi, what are we missing? Other than going to Houseman’s on occasion, what do these women have in common? Their murders did not correlate to their visits. Even if that’s the hunting ground, why these women? Most attackers have a preference. It’s not size, hair color, eye color, or hairstyle. Nor is it race. Is it their wealth? They all had trust funds, but different banks and conservators. Twelve women. We’ve checked cell phones, social media, hair salons, churches, schools, coffee shops, manicure places, family, friends, clothing stores, food stores, Uber, Lyft, credit card bills, cars, doctors.”
Javier took a closer look. “Boyfriends?”
“Except for Cassie, none. The feeling I got from each file is that these were good girls. Sweet, naïve. Certainly not a one-and-done type.”
“Cassie had a boyfriend,” Javier noted.
“A fiancé. What are you thinking?” Andy stared at his partner.
Javier scratched his neck. “First-timers. Virgins? But Cassie was engaged.”
Andy’s eyes rose. “I did that prelim report. Remember, the doc thought it was partying out of hand? Family convinced me it was otherwise. Cassie was a virgin.”
Javier stood up. “I guess that means some crappy phone calls. Give me half.” Andy handed him six files. “What are we gonna do about Robby Bynum?”
“Track him down and get an interview. I want to know what he and Ames talked about,” Andy said.
“You didn’t hear? They found him dead from an OD in Washington County. I’ll start the calls.” Javier picked up a phone and dialed the first number.
“Hell, I better talk to the boss again. And five minutes ago, I thought things might be going our way.”
Andy needed his lieutenant to reach out to the captain in charge of the Bynum investigation at the Virginia State Police Department. Between the girls and Bynum, they were dealing with five different jurisdictions and three squads in his own department. Returning to his desk, Andy put out another VICAP notification, adding “virgins” to the description and asking if any other jurisdiction had similar cases. Acid churned in his belly.
* * *
Andy and Javier sat on their meal break in a burger place near the station. Both men sipped milkshakes, trying to clear their heads from the anguish of the grieving families.
Javier bit into a pickle. “I never want to do that again. ‘Hi, this is Detective Ruiz. I’m sorry to have to ask this, but was your dead daughter a virgin?’ I’m locking my daughter in the house until she’s thirty.”
“Javi, she’s only two.” As he was biting into his burger, Andy’s phone went off. His expression soured. “I’ll be there in twenty. Thanks.” He reached into his pocket for an antacid. “The third has an unidentified brunette in the McMillan Reservoir. Strangled, covered with bites.”
* * *
Ian fell asleep during the thirty-minute drive to the second district station. Jason woke him at their arrival. The officer at the desk asked him to take a seat. “Detective Blake is expected any moment.”
Ian welcomed the mental break. Except for a few hours on the return flight and the few minutes in the car, he was going on thirty-four hours awake. He felt his age; he was not used to the long hours anymore, and the bullet wound didn’t help.
Javier walked into the lobby. “Mr. Chase.” He extended his hand. “Come on back. Andy’s en route. He asked me to bring you up to speed.”
