Jax frowned and set down his sandwich. Since the second bomb had gone off, he’d been thinking they were off base, too. But there was some reason the same symbol was showing up across so many cases. He couldn’t imagine a group of killers across the country, all equally skilled at evading police and all committing one crime before going dormant. “It could be a pair,” Jax reminded her. “Rodney and his roommate.”
“Maybe,” Keara agreed, but she didn’t sound convinced. “Jax, the thing is, we flagged all of the cases based on the symbols. I even considered sending the symbol to an anthropologist in case it has some kind of ancient significance, but it doesn’t seem worth it. It’s too rough and random, with nothing to indicate it means anything at all. I mean, you’re a trained psychologist, and you haven’t seen anything in it to give us a clue to its meaning. I went back and reviewed the details of the cases, too. They’re just as...inconsistent. Victimology is all over the place, and the MO is different each time, too. I’ve never chased down a bomber before and I’ve never had a serial murder case, either, but nothing I know about them fits what I saw in those case files. If you take the symbol out of it, they don’t seem connected at all.”
“But we can’t take the symbol out of it,” Jax reminded her.
She let out a frustrated laugh. “No kidding. But the victims don’t fit. Jax, we’ve got a rec center that was empty and set on fire. The murder victims were a female baker in her thirties who was a pillar of the community, a nineteen-year-old college boy with a couple of sexual assault charges on his record, a fiftyish man who used to run marathons, a popular middle school teacher in her forties and a sixtyish man with a really polarizing platform who was just elected as mayor. Then we’ve got the bombings, where we haven’t identified the target. What ties all of these people together?”
Leaning back against the vinyl seat, Jax contemplated the list Keara had just given him. She was right. They didn’t make sense as targets of the same person. They didn’t even make sense as targets of two people.
The explosions in Luna and Desparre weren’t the first bombings he’d assisted on. And he’d worked with two victims of a serial killer that the FBI had managed to rescue, helping them through the legal process for almost a year. He wasn’t a profiler, but he’d learned way more about how serial killers worked during that case than he’d ever wanted to know.
Most serial killers had a specific type. Even when there wasn’t specifically a sexual component to the crime itself, many of them were sexually motivated. Such a wide range of victims wasn’t unheard of, but it was unusual. And when it happened, there was almost always a specific method of killing that was most important to the killer.
Still, the symbol... It felt almost like a signature to him, a specific thing the killer felt compelled to do, something that marked the crime as theirs. They might be able to change their MO, but a signature would remain.
But was drawing a series of loops on or near the bodies really a compulsive behavior? Or was it being used by a group of criminals, maybe individuals who’d found each other somehow and made a pact to leave behind the symbols to confuse authorities?
Except if that was the case, then why hadn’t they seen additional matching crimes in each jurisdiction?
Rubbing his head, Jax admitted, “It doesn’t make sense to me. I talked to Ben a bit about it today. He had a quick look at the cases we pulled. He admitted that if we’d found a series of bombs with the symbol, they’d be chasing that lead full-throttle. But across singular killings like this, he thinks it’s far less likely to be connected.”
“The FBI is still looking into it?” Keara pressed.
“Yeah. But obviously, the bombs are the first priority. Two so close together are a pattern that can’t be ignored. And then there’s the psychology of a bomber versus a killer.”
“Bombers like chaos,” Keara said. “They like to create fear and destruction.”
“Yeah,” Jax agreed. “And a serial killer who murders his victims up close probably isn’t going to want to watch from a distance, like with arson or a bomb. It seems like two different personality types to me.”
“And unless our murderer is also just determined to try out every method of killing possible, the single murders in each state don’t really seem connected, either,” Keara said.
Jax sighed. He’d initiated the call feeling hopeful, almost nervous. He’d been planning to suggest they get dinner and distract themselves from the stress and horror of the case. He’d been hoping dinner might lead to an offer for him and Patches to stay on her couch again, even though he’d confirmed that the Royal Desparre allowed dogs. He didn’t expect her to join him on the couch this time, but right now being close to her was enough.
Now he felt exhausted and discouraged. Even Patches, catching his mood, let out a whine and lay on the ground.
“Where do we go from here?” Keara prompted when he didn’t speak for a minute.
Jax rubbed his head, pushing aside his sandwich, no longer hungry. “I have no idea.” And that was true of more than just the case. Equally frustrating was his inability to help her personally, help her move forward. Without that, there was no chance of this attraction between them going anywhere.
KEARA HADN’T BEEN back to Texas in over a year. Even then, so many years after her husband’s murder, being in Houston had given her anxiety, brought back all of her anger and frustration over Juan’s case having gone cold. But maybe it was time to return. The thoughts ran through
