I couldn’t help but notice the fire in her eyes. The passion. I certainly wouldn’t get so worked up if all I had to look forward to were long days and even longer nights trying to think like a killer, but Sydney looked as if she was both ready and confident.
“Well, I hope you catch up with this guy before he kills again. It seems odd that there was such a long break between the victim in October two thousand sixteen and the one in March of last year, but maybe he was in jail for something else or perhaps, like McClellan, he met a woman and decided to stop.”
“Maybe. I guess we can ask the guy about the gap once we catch him.”
I was about to respond when my cell phone rang. “It’s Colt. I should get this.”
“Go right ahead.”
“Hey, Colt,” I said and then listened.
“There’s been another murder.”
“Who?” I asked as the knot in my stomach tightened.
“Stan Fairfield.”
I knew that Stan was a dentist in town. I guess he must be around forty. Married. No children that I knew of.
“What happened?”
“I received an anonymous call this morning alerting me to the fact that the shed on the lot near Christmas Avenue where the kiddie carnival is held each year was in the process of being burglarized. When I arrived, I found the door to the shed open. When I went inside, I found Stan on the floor. He was posed in the same position as the others. He also had a clam between his hands, and the note in his clam said lust.”
I glanced at Sydney. “It happened again. There’s been another murder.” I returned my attention to Colt. “Is there anything I can do?”
“I was actually hoping Sydney was still at the inn. Now that we have three victims, I wondered if she could take another look. I’m really worried about this. Three deaths in three days is a lot. It feels like a spree, and I’m afraid that it might not be over.”
“Hang on.” I looked at Sydney. “Colt wonders if you might have time to stop by his office and look at the photos of all three victims. Three murders in three days is a lot for our little town.”
“I have time if we head into town now.”
I told Colt that we were out walking but would return to the inn so Sydney could pack, and then we’d both be by in an hour or so. The idea that Holiday Bay might have its own serial killer terrified me more than I could say.
Chapter 8
Sydney followed me into town. She would need to leave directly from Colt’s office if she was going to make her plane, but luckily, she’d booked a flight for late in the day rather than early in the morning, as I probably would have done.
“Thanks for taking the time to stop by,” Colt said after ushering the two of us into the conference room where he had photos splayed out across the table. “I assume Abby filled you in on the fact that we have a third victim.”
She nodded. “Three victims in three days does feel like a spree. And I agree, there could very well be others if we can’t figure out who’s doing this.” She picked up a photo. “You said that the first man was an investor who worked from home, the second victim was a real estate agent, and the third a dentist.”
Colt nodded. “That’s correct.”
“I seem to remember you also said that victims one and two had similar personalities. Both were Type ‘A’ workaholics who were financially successful but didn’t seem to have extensive interpersonal relationships. Halifax was married with no children, and Goodman was single with no children if I remember correctly.”
Colt nodded. “Right again.”
“How about the newest victim, Stan Fairfield? Was he married?”
“Married with no children same as Halifax,” Colt answered.
“All the men were in their late thirties to early forties. All were white with dark hair and a medium build. I’m not sure that looks and ethnicity play a role in this one, but it is good information to have.” Sydney picked up a stack of photos and thumbed through them. “I’m wondering about the timing of the spree. All three men have lived in Holiday Bay for a while. As far as you know, have there been any other murder victims fitting this basic profile? Any murders that have gone unsolved to this point?”
“No,” Colt answered. “I checked back ten years, but nothing popped. At least nothing locally.”
She paused and studied one of the photos. “Abby said you received a call early this morning alerting you that a shed housing carnival props was in the process of being burglarized, but when you showed up to check it out you found the body of Stan Fairfield instead.”
Colt nodded. “That’s correct.”
“I assume you didn’t recognize the voice of the person on the other end of the line.”
“No. It was a male voice. Deep. So deep it sounded intentionally altered.”
“Any noise in the background?”
“Nothing that stood out.”
Sydney flipped through a few more photos. “The man who called. How did he reach you? 911? Central dispatch? Landline for the local office?”
Colt frowned. “My cell, actually.”
“Do a lot of folks you don’t know personally have your cell phone number?” she asked.
“Yes and no. The Holiday Bay office is small. It’s just me and one or two rookies doing their time before they can get a transfer to another office. I have a receptionist, Peach, but she only works a nine to five sort of schedule. If I’ve spoken to someone and need him or her to call me back, I’ll ask them to call my cell,
