She took a breath, glancing across all of the officers seated in cramped rows of temporary chairs in the sheriff’s largest briefing room. Then she looked away, finding a point on the far wall to speak to, something less threatening.
“This is the profile we are looking for,” Zoe continued. “The male suspect will be around the height of five foot eleven, according to the calculations of all three coroners and what little physical evidence we found at the scenes. We also believe that he will be of thin to medium build. He is not particularly strong, forceful, or intimidating.”
Shelley took over, stepping forward for her moment in the spotlight—something she seemed to relish rather than fear, her eyes taking on a gleam. “He will present as non-threatening to most people, until the moment of murder. We believe he has been able to entice his victims into conversations and even led them away from relative safety and into an open space where he could physically manipulate the situation to get behind them. He may even be charming, polite.”
“He is not a local,” Zoe added. “He will have out-of-state plates on his car. While we have not been able to determine his state of origin, he is on the move, and will likely continue to be.”
Images of the women whose lives he had taken appeared on the projector screen behind them. They were all three alive, smiling at the camera, even laughing. They were normal, real women—not models or facsimiles of the same look or anything that would set them apart as special. Just women, who until three nights ago had all been living and breathing and laughing.
“He is targeting women,” Zoe said. “One every night, in isolated places with little chance of being caught in the act or on surveillance footage. These are dark areas, away from the beaten track, places that give him the time and room to go through with the kill.”
“How are we supposed to catch him with a profile like that?” one of the state cops piped up from the middle of the bristling copse of chairs in front of her. “There must be thousands of tall, thin guys with out-of-state plates around here.”
“We realize this is not much to go on,” Shelley stepped in, saving Zoe from the annoyance that had threatened to make her blurt out something unfriendly. “We can only work with what we have. The most useful course that we can take with this information at the present moment is to put out a warning to avoid isolated areas, and, particularly if approached by a man fitting this description, to be on guard.”
“Across the whole state?” This question came from one of the locals, the small team working under the sheriff whose Missouri station they had taken over for both their investigation and this briefing.
Zoe shook her head. “Across several states. He has already moved through Kansas, Nebraska, and Missouri. That is a fair indication that he will continue to travel long distances in order to carry out his crimes.”
There were small noises of disagreement throughout the room, mumblings and growls of discontent.
“I am aware that it is a large area,” Zoe said, trying to be firm. “And I am aware that it is a vague warning. But we have to do what we can.”
“Who’s going to do the press conference?” the local sheriff asked. He had an air of battered authority about him, as if he were being crushed under the weight of all the other law enforcement officials crammed into his tiny station.
Zoe hesitated for a moment. She hated press conferences. She was criticized often for how stiff and emotionless she came across when talking about victims and the potential threat of more. She had done enough of them in her career to know that she never wanted to do another one again.
“My colleague, Special Agent Shelley Rose, will be talking to the media,” she said, catching the way Shelley’s head jerked up in surprise. “We will invite them to a televised conference later this afternoon.”
As the various cops in the room began to clear away their chairs, the muttering in the room rising to full-level conversations, Shelley drew closer to Zoe with a nervous murmur. “I’ve never done a press conference before,” she said.
“I know,” Zoe replied. “I thought it would be a good chance for you to gain the experience. It is better now, while the case is fresh. The longer it goes on without being solved, the more vicious the reporters get. Trust me, I know. If we do not catch him before another press conference is required, I will take the lead then, as senior agent.”
Shelley nodded, a thrill of excitement lighting up her cheeks with a faint blush. “Oh, god. Will you help me rehearse what to say? I’ve never even been on TV before, not even in the background.”
Zoe couldn’t help but smile. There was something about Shelley’s excitement that was contagious, even if it would never come close to making her think that a press conference was an enjoyable thing. “Of course. I will help you put a script together.”
Later, Zoe stood behind a small podium, just in the camera shot, as Shelley addressed the assembled reporters. Given the scale of the case, there were news crews from across multiple states, and even national press organizations. Given the far-flung location and the short notice they had provided, there were fewer than there might have been. Perhaps just the right balance between enough publicity for the case and a small enough crowd that Shelley would not be overwhelmed.
“… So, we are asking you all to be vigilant,” Shelley was saying. “Basic safety principles apply here, but it is more important now than ever to stick to them. Do not go into dark, isolated areas alone at night. Make sure that someone knows where you are at all times, and avoid going into a private area with strangers. Business owners, we ask you to repair and replace any CCTV systems which are not working. Be aware, be vigilant, and stay safe. We are working hard to catch the suspect behind these murders, but until he is found, we implore you to take all possible precautions.”
Shelley paused, surveying the crowd of reporters, before continuing. “I will now take questions from members of the press.”
A bespectacled man in an old-fashioned suit spoke up. “Kansas City Star,” he announced. “Do you have a suspect in mind? Or have you been unable to identify the perpetrator?”
Shelley’s confident demeanor faltered just a little. “We have not as yet identified a suspect. We are on his trail, however.”
“Missouri State News,” another reporter spoke up. “Where will he strike next?”
Shelley swallowed. “We can’t at this moment be precisely sure of his location. This is why we are issuing the warning across several states. The suspect has been traveling long distances between crime scenes.”
“You don’t even know which state he’s in?” the first reporter spoke again.
Shelley glanced uncertainly behind her, catching Zoe’s eye. “At this time, we are steering clear of any assumptions,” she said. “We believe we have some idea of his path, but it would be unwise to rule out a diversion or even a return to his previous sites.”
There was a lot of muttering in the crowd, people swaying their heads closer to one another to confer, frowns plastered across almost all of the faces that Zoe could see. Leave them much longer, and they would be ready to eat Shelley alive. Zoe stepped forward quickly, approaching the microphone.
“No more questions at this time, thank you. We will announce another press conference in due course when we have more information,” she said, taking Shelley by the elbow to gently steer her away.
Behind their retreating backs, the reporters exploded into a clamor, each of them shouting the questions they had not been given a chance to ask.
Zoe did not stop rushing forward, pulling Shelley with her, until they were back inside the doors of the station. They continued a short way along the corridor and ducked into their investigation room, where at last the hubbub was far enough away and behind enough doors that they could no longer hear it.