The agents behind her were silent as Jax stared at them with raised eyebrows. Keara thought about each of the case files she’d read, about the total lack of progress in each of those cases. They’d all eventually gone cold, just like her husband’s murder.
“Okay,” Ben said, sounding like he was reluctantly getting on board with Jax’s theory. “Then why bombs now after a series of murders and one arson?”
“Because the weapon isn’t the point,” Jax said, the excitement in his voice growing.
It set off an excitement in her, too, a hope that they were getting closer to finding the person responsible for all of the crimes. Including Juan’s murder.
“When serial killers get away with it, they get bolder, right?” Jax asked, his gaze on Ben.
Keara shifted, so she could see them both.
On Ben’s face was interest, the thrill of being on a solid lead that she recognized. The excitement was catching. All the other agents were slowly nodding.
“Usually,” Ben agreed.
“Sometimes, they go for bigger challenges, too, right?” Jax leaned in and his familiar cinnamon scent wafted toward her. “They’ll try to grab victims who are more high risk for them. They’ll spend more time with the victims, leave the body in a more public place, maybe.”
“So you think this is just a progression?” Keara asked. “He started with murders, tried an arson—and presumably got more attention with the murders, so returned to them? Then he came here and decided bombs would have a bigger impact, get more of a law-enforcement response?”
Jax nodded. “Yes. And maybe some of this was also him learning what he liked. Maybe initially he figured he’d get more of a thrill from the killing than he did. When he discovered it was actually watching the law-enforcement response—seeing the police scramble to try and find him—that became more of his focus.”
It made sense in a weird way. Celia Harris’s murder almost certainly wasn’t the guy’s first kill. It was too perfect, too precise, the victim too high risk, the body dumped in a place too close to public areas. He’d probably started with easier victims, people who were less likely to be missed, dumping the bodies in places he hoped they wouldn’t be found. The symbol could have evolved over time, too.
“So if this is all a progression, if it’s really about this guy trying to outwit the police, then what about Juan?” Keara asked as fury and grief and determination entwined inside her. “He got too close to the truth, didn’t he? This guy thought he was outwitting police and then Juan showed up at his door and the bomber decided he needed to kill him, didn’t he?”
Jax nodded slowly, her own pain reflected in his eyes. “That’s my guess. I think you were onto something all along with Rodney—or, more likely, given that the sketch we have doesn’t match Rodney, his roommate. I think Juan was killed because he got too close to the truth.”
“And the crimes were much bigger than he’d ever realized,” Keara finished.
KEARA’S GAZE WAS troubled as she demanded, “Do you think the bomber came here because he knew I worked here? Because he knows I’m Juan’s widow?”
The agents behind her all cringed. It was barely perceptible, because they were all trained and practiced at hiding emotion. But no doubt they’d all dealt with loved ones who were afraid of one day getting the dreaded call.
Jax’s heart gave a pained kick, but he tried to consider all the angles before he answered. This wasn’t his job. This wasn’t his specialty. Yes, he had a lot of training in psychology, a lot of experience working with the victims this type of criminal left behind. But there were other professionals out there, profilers who focused on the other side of it: knowing the mind of the criminal.
“I doubt it,” he said finally. “But it can’t hurt to get a profiler’s thoughts on that.” He glanced at Ben, who nodded slowly, but didn’t seem anxious to get a second opinion.
“If I’m right, then it took him a long time to get to Alaska. If he came here for you, then why stop in so many states along the way? Why take so many years to get here? It seems like it was probably a coincidence.”
“He was jumping from one jurisdiction to the next,” Anderson said, “changing locations once each case went cold. Unless we just missed some of his crimes, this guy is patient.”
Ben nodded. “A year is a long time in between crimes for a serial criminal, if that’s really what we’ve got here.”
“Right,” Anderson said, sounding excited by Jax’s new take on the perpetrator. “But for big investigations like the ones we’re talking about, it seems reasonable that police would be actively investigating for a year. Those investigations would slowly ramp down until they were deemed cold and set on the back burner.”
“This guy probably wouldn’t know exactly when that happened,” Ben said. “But once he couldn’t see police activity, once the news coverage died down, he moved to a new state, studied a new victim, planned a new crime.” He gave Jax an impressed look. “It makes sense. And it explains a lot of things that just wouldn’t fit together otherwise. I think you’re onto something here, Jax.”
It would take a methodical, patient killer. But each of the cases Jax had reviewed with Keara suggested that kind of criminal. Someone who had studied how to avoid leaving forensics behind, who had watched his intended victim beforehand to avoid witnesses, who had scoped out the location he planned to leave the body. Someone who followed the police investigation, followed the officers investigating, without being noticed.
Jax flashed back to the moment he’d been driving to meet Keara and had thought someone was following him. A dark blue truck that had turned another way when Jax started driving erratically. Had it been the bomber, looking for insight on the case? Had he followed Jax in the past, maybe even to Keara’s home? Had
