“Lewis was homeless.” Riley prayed he wouldn’t think she was crazy. “He dropped out of school after the eighth grade. He had a history of mental health issues, and—”
“So? What does any of that have to do with what’s going on now?” he interrupted.
“Lewis never fit the profile!”
A flash of sympathy flew across her partner’s face. “Then how did Agent Crenshaw make the case against him stick? And why would Lewis cut a deal for five murders he didn’t commit?”
“I don’t know.” Riley moved away, freeing herself from his grasp. “But what I do know is the killer we were after back then was smart. Crazy smart. He was calculated and cunning and...too damn careful to be caught standing over his victim with the murder weapon.”
“She’s right, Detective,” Maggie spoke from her place by the counter. She picked up three more baggies and brought them over to Riley. “The person who committed these newest murders fits that same description. Whoever killed these girls is shrewd and methodical.”
“So what are you saying? That the man who killed these women is the same man who killed the four women in New York three years ago?”
“From what Riley’s just told us, I believe it’s a good possibility.” Maggie nodded. “And whoever this guy is, he left these in each of the other victims’ mouths. At first, I didn’t know what they meant, but now...”
Maggie offered Riley the other baggies.
She studied each one closely. Each one had a message written by the killer.
Miss me?
Miss me?
Miss me?
They were all identical. To each other, and to the note Riley had received a few weeks earlier at her apartment.
****
“He knows where youlive.”
Eric stood in the middle of Riley’s living room. Rage and fear bubbling up from deep inside like an angry, waking volcano.
He stared at the scribbled words again. Words that made him want to kill.
Miss me?
The piece of paper in his hands—hands he was working damn hard to keep steady—was identical to the ones Maggie found in the first three victims.
Except this one had been hand-delivered to Riley’s apartment. Her fuckingapartment.
And she hadn’t said a word.
“Why you?” He set the note down onto the end table next to her couch.
With her back to him, arms wrapped around herself, Riley stared out the large, picture window to the city below but said nothing.
She’s lost in the past.
The internal storm brewing inside him grew even stronger. The bastard behind all of this was causing her pain, and that alone made Eric want to hunt the fucker down and end him.
“Riles?” He spoke softly. When she didn’t respond, he tried again. This time putting a little more force to his tone. “Riley.”
She turned and looked over her shoulder. “I’m sorry, what?”
Her weary expression caused a tightening in his chest. “You said the killer in New York left you a note, too. That he asked about why you were off the case. He must’ve been watching the investigation closely to know you were one of the detectives assigned.”
“Wouldn’t have been hard to figure that out.” She shrugged. “The case garnered a few local headlines, along with my dad’s trial. Reporters would approach me outside the precinct and my apartment to ask me about one or the other. Or both.”
