My gasp echoed through the office.
“What?” Austin popped up from his chair and circled my desk, where he started reading over my shoulder. “That’s a list. He sent you a list of names. Of victims.”
“Ofpotentialvictims.” Listed with ages, dates, and locations. “Women in the right age range who came to a hospital in that network with symptoms similar to Yvette’s. And the letter D in parentheses next to some of them—most of them—means—”
“Deceased,” Austin finished for me.
“Yeah.”
“How many is that?”
I counted the names. “Twelve. In the past…three years.”
“Plus Yvette, and Nolan’s sister.”
“And the other woman we’re looking into,” I added, when I’d realized Brittany Walsh wasn’t on the list either.
“And if their names aren’t here, it’s possible there could be more.”
“Yes, but we don’t know all of these women had scratch fever,” I pointed out. “We don’t know thatanyof them were actually infected. We need to dig in and find out what we can about them. Where they were in the days before they got sick. Whether or not any of them knew Yvette or Nolan’s sister, or had any connection to the shifter community. Or to each other. If any of themarevictims, it’s possible they knew their killer. Or met him somewhere they may have in common with each other.”
Austin snorted. “I’m pretty familiar with how an investigation works, Marshal.”
“Of course. Sorry.”
“I’m calling Bishop.”
“I’ll call Vance and Tucker. Titus says to let him know if we need additional resources, but I think we should wait on that until we have the list narrowed down. Then, if we need it, we can ask for help digging into their lives.”
“Agreed.” Austin’s phone was pressed to his ear, already ringing. “Where are you going?” he asked as I headed out of my office.
“My cell’s dead. I’m going to use the bar phone.” And start abigpot of coffee.
NINE
“Wait, so what does all this mean?” Bishop asked, scanning the list of names I’d printed. “You think all these women were killed by whoever killed Yvette? And you don’t think that was Nolan after all?”
“To be fair, we were never sure he was guilty,” Tucker pointed out.
“And we’re not sure all of these women are even dead, much less that they’re murder victims,” I added, sliding into the corner booth next to Tucker. I set the full coffee pot on a folded rag on the table, and Bishop snatched it immediately to refill his mug.
“So, you don’t know much of anything, yet?” he said as he ripped open three sugar packets at once, spraying tiny crystals all over the table.
“That’s true.” I filled my own mug. “We’re including you on the ground floor of this as a courtesy. But if you’d rather just get updates when we have more information, you’re welcome to go back to bed.” I was pretty proud of themostlyprofessional tone I managed to maintain.
“Bishop.” Austin settled into the booth next to him. “Give them a break. Charley just got the list an hour ago.”
“But she’s known about Nolan’s sister and that other dead chick for nearly twenty hours.”
“Yes, and I would have told you sooner if I thought I could trust you not to kill him.”
Bishop grumbled, but he didn’t argue the point.
“Okay, let’s take a look.” Vance pulled a chair up to the end of the booth and handed out extra copies of the list. “Bishop, Austin, let us know if any of the names stand out to you. If you or Yvette knew any of the women or ever traveled to any of those towns.”
“None of the names are familiar, but—”
“Seriously?” Bishop snapped, interrupting his brother-in-law. “Nashville? Yes, I’ve been to Nashville. I’m sure we’ve all been to the fucking state capitol. Atlanta, check. Chicago, yes. If we’re looking for a killer based on who’s been to several major US cities, I’d say we’re screwed.”
