“I really only worry about what you think of me, but please, I want you to come, and I’m sure my family does too.”
“I’ll think about it. Now can we get back to this?”
“Absolutely,” he said, settling back down in the chair with his football, a couple of cookies, and a mug of coffee.
Callie reopened the file and started reading again, comparing the first mood ring crime scene to Renee’s. “On the surface, it’s hard to make the mood killer and Renee’s killer the same.”
“Why?”
“The weapon, for one.”
“The first kill might have been the trigger for everything else,” Jag said. “Whatever happened between our killer and the victim caused the unsub to snap. She kills and goes right into perfecting the kill the way she wished she’d done it the first time. And look at the pattern of how the victim was beaten.” Jag jumped to his feet and shuffled through a few of the papers before shoving some images in front of her face.
She inhaled sharply, trying not to hurl. She’d seen dead bodies before. She’d examined crime scene evidence. This was nothing new.
But it all took on new meaning now that the Trinket Killer had returned.
“There’s a distinct pattern in the stab wounds with Renee and Stephanie. They are similar with the bludgeon marks on vic number one with the mood rings. And come on, body presentation is all the same.”
“And different from all the other victims,” Callie said, holding up her hand, knowing he was going to go down a road they’d traveled way too many times, and it was starting to make her head hurt. “Thing is the killer had to know all her victims.”
“Why do you say that?” Jag flattened his hands on the desk and leaned over.
Methodically, she laid out all the victims, except for the ones that had been brutal. “Each one was murdered while waiting to meet someone.” She tapped victim number four. “According to the bartender that had last seen her, she was waiting for a friend that didn’t show up.” Callie lifted the picture of victim number seven. “According to eyewitnesses, she was waiting at a coffee shop for a friend. No one knows who that friend was. I bet if we go through all of these, we will find every single woman was waiting on a friend that happened to be a female that was new to their lives.”
“Just like Stephanie had a new girlfriend that we hadn’t met yet.” Jag let out a long breath. “But that sort of blows my theory because I thought the violence had to do with caring about the victim. I mean, I was thinking that if Renee had cheated a second time, her lover might be a jealous bitch or something. And since then has been killing women who are like Renee, and we both know how excited Stephanie was over this new woman.”
“She was very excited,” Callie said. “But the night she was murdered, she was desperate to talk to me. To us. And that’s always struck me as odd.”
“Why?”
“Because it wasn’t just me she wanted to see. But she specifically said she needed to speak with you. She said I had to bring you.”
“Yeah. I remember the voicemail. But I’m not sure I’m following your train of thought here.”
“Stephanie was on her way to see us. She wasn’t going to meet ‘a friend.’”
“That then blows the theory we’ve been forming.”
She shook her head. “I believe our theory is still correct. The violence is out of anger. Our killer is mad as hell at the people they love the most. She kills them brutally. Beating them or stabbing them. Or both. Then they take the time to clean the body. Brush their hair, fix their makeup. Hell, even in Renee’s case, the killer tried to do something with the poor woman’s face.”
“Renee was found at her favorite beach.”
“My sister at her favorite park.”
“All right, so that gives us some questions to ask.”
“Some are already answered.” She pushed a piece of paper at him. “One of the victims’ siblings stated they found it strange that their sister was found by the community pool because she couldn’t swim but always wanted to learn.”
“Interesting.”
“I think the killer had to have at least known each woman for a minimum of a week before killing them. In some cases longer, especially the ones that were bi or gay.”
“Are you now thinking these are sexually motivated?” Jag asked.
“I don’t know. I think so, but maybe not in the way we think since she’s killing straight women as well.”
“They could have turned her down,” Jag said. “But that probably would have made her angry, increasing the violence.”
“There is one other thing that really jumped at me today, looking through all this stuff.”
“What’s that?”
“Armstrong.”
“What about her?”
“She looks an awful lot like the victims.” Callie shuffled through the papers and found the pictures of Leslie Armstrong taken over her years of service.
“What are you talking about? She was a brunette, and she was well into her fifties if not sixty when she killed herself.”
“She was fifty-eight,” Callie said. “And when she was in her thirties, she was a blonde.” Callie flashed the image in front of Jag. “She changed her hair color, it seems, about five years before the start of the Trinket Killers.”
“Jesus. She looks exactly like our…fuck, she looks like you.”
“Similar features, yes. And she tampered with evidence on an investigation where women who looked like her were being murdered. What do you make of that?” she asked.
He leaned over and planted a wet kiss on her lips. “You’re a fucking genius.”
“All I did was raise more questions than answers.” She slumped in the chair, exhausted.
“You made connections and gave us lots of rocks to look under. I’m going to go call Matt. Why don’t you go jump in the shower? I want to be on the five o’clock ferry to my folks.”
She dropped her head to the desk with a
