“This is daily, this is close contact on a daily basis. He resents that he’s placed in a position of inferiority, of subservience, when he knows he’s morally and intellectually superior to all of them. That he’s forced to work for them, that his livelihood is dependent on people he thinks are less than he. That they can’t see his brilliance marks them all as fools. This is how he retaliates. He’s showing
“And you don’t see that here?” Evan tapped on the photos of the last three victims.
“Not at all. Where are the symbols of purity, of innocence? He’s tried to make them look the same as the others, I think in an effort to fool the police. To make you think this is all the work of the same man. So far, he’s succeeding.”
“You feel that strongly about this?”
“There is no question in my mind.” She studied his face. “I’m sensing a lot of resistance here, Evan. Why so reluctant?”
“If I take this in to the office, I have to be able to convince the chief of detectives that there are two killers, not one, out there targeting young girls. Yet I have no DNA, no trace, nothing, to distinguish the crimes.”
“Want me to write a memo or something outlining why?”
“Sort of like a note from my mother to give to my teacher?”
“You’re the one who’s pressing here.”
“Maybe a memo would help,” he conceded. “And keep in mind that right now there is no link. We’re still waiting for the lab results from the first two vics.”
“What’s taking so long?” She closed the file and set it on the table near the photos.
“It’s a small lab, only a few techs. They’re doing their best, but this is not the only open case in the county right now.”
“Why not send what you have to the Bureau’s lab?”
“What’s the timetable there?”
“Depends on who’s asking.” Annie grinned.
“Suppose you asked…”
“We’d have the results in a week, maybe better.”
“And if I asked?”
“What year is it now?”
“So how do we get you involved?”
“I write that memo, you give it to your chief, tell him we can get the evidence expedited if only he asks. I can take it from there.”
“You have friends at the lab?”
“You betcha.”
“What’s your take on this possible second killer? You’re pretty specific about the first one; how do you peg this other killer that no one sees but you?”
“I’m still working on that.” She stood and stretched, then took his hand and pulled him to his feet. “I thought maybe I’d sleep on it.”
“Excellent idea. I think I’ll sleep on it, too.” He tugged her toward the steps leading up. “I’m thinking maybe between the two of us, we should be able to come up with something…”
8
Evan sat on the edge of the desk in the medical examiner’s office, reading through the autopsy report of Caitlin McGill and last night’s unnamed victim, and waited for the M.E. to finish washing up.
“So the throats were definitely slashed with different blades?”
“Definitely.” The county M.E., Agnes Jenkins, washed her hands at the sink in the far corner of her office. “Not even close. The knife used on the schoolgirls was thin and finely sharpened. The knife used on the unidentified girls was thicker, duller. Different width.”
“What do you think of two different killers?”
She reached for a roll of paper towels to dry her hands.
“I think it’s highly likely. As a matter of fact, I’d bet on it. The schoolgirls-let’s call them the group-one victims, just for the purpose of this conversation-had been, for the most part, still in possession of their hymens before the attacks. Not so the unidentified girls-the group-two vics, if you will. Internal examination showed that these girls were no novices.”
“Prostitutes?”
“That, or they were real party girls.” She frowned. “They were pretty young, though. Hard to tell for certain; their teeth weren’t well cared for and two of them showed evidence of old healed fractures. And all three of them were small, physically. I’d guess from poor nutrition at some time in their life, most likely early childhood.”
“Semen?”
“Not in or on any of them. Both guys wrapped up first.” She rolled up the paper towel and tossed it into a nearby trash can. “It will be interesting to see what we get back from the lab, don’t you think?”
“I’ve asked the chief to okay a transfer to the FBI lab, just to speed up the process. Our county lab is way behind and just isn’t willing to expedite this case over any others in the pipeline.”
“That would be Jeffrey Coogan.” She named the head of the lab and made a face. “He’s not much of a team player. You’ll never get him to put one case aside to work on another. He’s so goddamned anal. Everything in strict order.”
“He’s not happy about giving up the samples, but the chief leaned on him good and hard. I suspect the D.A. might have made a call as well.”
“Sometimes you just have to talk tough with the assholes, Crosby.” She grinned. “Anything else I can do for you?”
“You could get me a copy of the autopsy report on our latest victim.”
“As soon as Mary Ellen out there finishes transcribing my tape, it’s yours. I’ll have her call you and you can stop back and pick it up.”
“Thanks. I appreciate it.”
“And you’ll get me a copy of the lab results as soon as the FBI gets them to you?”
“Absolutely.” He hopped off the desk and started to the door.
“Sounds like a deal.” She smiled and turned to answer her ringing phone. “Oh. There was one more thing. Our unidentified girls all had tattoos on their left hips.”
“Tattoos?”
“Little stars. Somewhat crudely made, but they were definitely stars. Three tiny stars, right below the waist at the top of the hip on the left side. What do you make of that?”
“Stars?” Annie asked.
“Right. I’m faxing you a photo right now. Can you see if it matches up with anything in the Bureau files? I tried to scan it into our computer, but once again, the computer is giving me the finger. Some glitch in the firewall, they’re telling me.”
“Go ahead and fax it down, let me take a look.”
“It should be there any minute.” Evan paused, then said, “Dr. Jenkins agrees that we’re dealing with more than one killer.”
He reiterated the gist of his conversation with the medical examiner.
“Prostitutes? Fourteen-, fifteen-year-old prostitutes?” She thought for a minute, then said, “Well, that would make sense, wouldn’t it? Maybe they were tattooed by whoever is putting them out. Then again, they could be gang members. That’s just as likely, don’t you think? Maybe the stars identify them as a member of a specific gang. Or maybe they mark them as the property of a gang.”
“It’s worth looking into, but I have to tell you that I haven’t heard of anything like that around here. I’ll check with Philly, Trenton, Scranton, Camden, Newark, New York -maybe someone will have seen this before.”
“If they were prostitutes, it would explain why you haven’t received missing persons reports. If it’s a gang thing, though, you might still have parents involved somewhere. The girls would most likely live at home. If that’s the case, someone should be looking for these girls, Evan. Still no calls?”
“None. And we’ve told the dispatchers from every community to call us the minute anyone inquires about any one of these kids, but there’s been nothing. I’ll put out inquiries up and down the East Coast, though. See if someone, somewhere, is looking for them.”
“I think the tattoos might help us track them.” She bit at a cuticle, something she almost never did. “I just can’t help but think that somewhere, someone is crying their eyes out over these girls. Someone has to have missed them. These kids have names, they have families somewhere.”
“Well, maybe one of us will get lucky and we’ll find out where that somewhere is.”
“Let me make a call or two and get back to you.”
Annie was searching her desk drawer for the office directory even as she hung up. She found the number she was looking for, dialed, then waited.
“Fletcher.”
“My favorite computer geek.” She sighed dramatically.
“My favorite profiler.” Will Fletcher laughed. “How’s it going, Annie?”
“Good. You?”
“Terrific. Great wedding, by the way.”
