When Maggie hesitated again, Riley impatiently pushed her on. “Come on, Mags. Just tell us what you found.”
“I’m getting there, I promise.” She exhaled a nervous breath. Very un-Maggie like. “I knew the cuff marks on her wrists looked familiar, but I didn’t want to say anything until she was here so I could more accurately compare her injuries to the other victims’. Like I said, the cuts and bruises on her ankles and wrists are an almost identical match, along with the rope used to strangle her.” To Eric she asked, “Can you please put on a set of gloves and help me roll her?”
There’s something on her back?
Riley’s knees locked, her feet growing roots where she stood. Her chest tightened as the same sense of foreboding she’d felt earlier returned tenfold.
Her eyes instinctively fell on Kennedy’s left shoulder as Eric slid his hands into a pair of disposable gloves. She thought of the strange note she’d received at her apartment weeks before.
One she hadn’t told Eric about. One she still had tucked away inside her desk at home.
It can’t be the same. Itcan’tbe.
“We’re going to roll her toward you,” Maggie instructed him.
Reaching over the body, Eric did as he was asked and helped Maggie with the move.
“That’s good.” She stopped them, pointing at something on Kennedy’s back. “There. You see that?”
Riley feared the worst as Eric leaned forward to get a better look.
“Is that a roman numeral?” His dark brows pulled together as he tilted his head to change his viewpoint.
Oh, god.
The air in the room grew colder. The room began to spin, and the acid in Riley’s stomach churned to the point she thought she might vomit.
“Thirteen.” Riley’s voice was quiet, emotionless, as started at what she knew was there but couldn’t see. “The killer carved the number thirteen into her skin, didn’t he?”
From over his broad shoulder, Eric’s frowning gaze swung to hers. “How the hell did you know that?”
Her eyes stuttered as they rose to meet his. “It’s what he did to his other victims.”
No, not his other victims. Because these didn’t belong tohim. They couldn’t.
“He?” Eric carefully laid the body back down before yanking off his gloves and walking toward her. “You know who did this?”
“I’ve seen it before.” She licked her suddenly dry lips. “Back in New York.”
“You mean you’ve seen something similar.”
“No, Eric. I mean I’ve seenthis.”
Her raised voice echoed throughout the frigid space, and her unexpected outburst caused both Eric and Maggie to blink.
Tell them.
“The long, dark hair. The sexual assault. The cuffs and the strangulation...thecarvinginto the skin...it’s all exactly the same as before.”
“The same as what, Riles?” There was caution in her partner’s tone.
“Back when I was still NYPD, my partner and I caught a couple of similar cases. Two women found within weeks of each other, both near the Hudson River. There were a few slight inconsistencies, but the manner of death was close enough I informed my unit sergeant that I thought we had a serial. Those first two bodies weren’t carved into, but the sexual assault, bruising...victimology...it was all the same. But since there was never any DNA left behind and we had no leads, Sarge blew me off and told Adam and I to focus on more promising cases.”
“That’s awful.” Maggie frowned.
But wait...there’s more.
“A few weeks later, a third body showed up. That one was found several miles up, on the northern banks of the Hudson. The following month, there was another. They matched the first two almost exactly, except the last three had the Roman numeral thirteen carved on the back of their left shoulders.”
