“Did she ever mention Anna Bellamy?” Rhys asked.
“Not that I recall.”
“What about any of these women?” Gaby asked, sliding the photos of Anna, Isabel, and Faith across the table.
Celeste studied each one before shaking her head. “Are they dead, too?”
“Missing,” Gaby clarified.
“Oh, my God.” Her hand rose to her mouth. “Is this a serial killer? Why hasn’t it been on the news?”
“We’ve only found a loose connection between two of the women,” Rhys clarified.
“So far,” Celeste replied.
The room went quiet because Gaby was thinking that too, and knowing Rhys, he’d reached the same conclusion.
Gaby gathered the photos. “You’ve been helpful. Thank you,” she said, trying to wrap things up.
“You can thank me by finding who did it.”
She didn’t walk them to the door, so they showed themselves out.
They made it to the car right before the sky opened. Rain battered the roof as they sat for a moment, processing what they’d learned.
Gaby opened the folder in her lap and looked at Anna and Mara. Different women. Different lives. The same community.
She considered Isabel and Faith. What if they moved through the same circles?
Rhys started the engine but didn’t pull away. “You’re quiet,” he said.
“That’s usually your thing.”
“Deflection noted.”
She gave him a look.
He waited. Damn profiler.
Gaby looked back at the photos. “They went somewhere they thought was safe. That respected choice and consent.” Her voice went lower. “And a predator may have used that against them.”
His expression hardened. “Yes.”
The single word carried more weight than a longer answer would have.
Gaby closed the folder. “We need the member logs from every Underground location. Staff names. Event nights. Security footage.” She watched the rain pour down the windshield, dread twisting her stomach into a sickening knot. “This is bigger than we first thought.”
“I think you’re right.”
“We were too late for these women. What if he strikes again?”
Rhys was quiet for a moment. “He probably will.”
Gaby looked over; the blunt honesty startled her.
“If we’re right, you know what this means.”
“He’s been doing this for years,” she answered, the implication sitting heavy in her chest.
