“He could be hiding in an empty apartment unit next to Martha’s place,” Jack said.
“We called for a warrant,” Noah said. “We didn’t have cause. Now we might.”
“I’ll push it with the DA,” Abbott said. “Carleton, any thoughts on profile?”
“White male, twenties or thirties. High IQ. He plans and he’s dramatic. He’s obsessive about detail.” He sorted through all the photos until he found the ones of Samantha and Martha hanging in their identical poses. “There is something about the eyes that’s important to him. He made sure they’d stay open.”
“Which was very creepy,” Micki said under her breath.
“Agreed,” Carleton said. “Whoever did this thinks he got away with it with Samantha. So he did it again with Martha. It’s interesting that he used ketamine, and that he injected it in the neck. That indicates a level of… confidence. Except for Ian, how many of you would be comfortable shoving a syringe in a woman’s neck?”
“You think he’s had medical training?” Noah asked and Carleton shrugged.
“Or practice.”
Abbott nodded. “Let’s find out if the panty pervert ever played doctor. Ian, go through the hanging cases over the year. See if any others have puncture wounds.”
“We’ll track down Siren Song and get an employee and client list,” Jack said. “I can’t imagine they’ll fork over their clients without a subpoena, so we’ll get that started, too.”
“And we’ll talk to tenants, including the three women who filed a complaint. Somebody knows where Taylor hangs.” Noah winced. “No pun intended.”
Faye stuck her head in the door. “Noah, call on one. The woman said it was urgent.”
Noah pulled Abbott’s phone to the edge of the desk. “Webster.”
“This is Eve Wilson. You need to come to 5492 Red Barn Lane. It’s in Woodfield.”
Eve? Her voice didn’t falter, but he heard the underlying fear. “What’s wrong?”
“There’s a woman here. She’s dead. She’s hanging from her bedroom ceiling.”
His heart sank, both for the newest victim and for Eve’s now undeniable connection. “Are you in the house?”
“No. I’m looking through the back window. Her name is Christy Lewis.”
“Did you know her from work, too?”
“Yes,” she said, resigned. “Just hurry. Please.” And she hung up.
Noah stood. “Victim number three.”
“I’ll get my team out there,” Micki said.
“I’ll meet you there,” Ian said. “I want to see this scene myself.”
Carleton already stood, buttoning his coat. “So do I. I’ll follow you up, Ian.”
Jack put on his hat. “Then let’s go.”
Abbott waved them out, then pointed at Noah. “You stay. Close the door.”
Noah obeyed, knowing what was coming and dreading it.
“Who, how, and why?” Abbott asked.
“Eve Wilson,” Noah said dully.
Abbott did a double take. “From Sal’s?”
“Yeah. She was at Martha’s today. Said she knew Martha from work. She just said the same thing about this victim.”
Abbott still looked stunned. “I never would have picked her for a phone sex jockey. So she knows something. Find out what it is. I’ll send a squad car to the address, just in case this guy is still around. And to make sure Miss Wilson doesn’t leave.”
Monday, February 22, 4:55 p.m.
Eve sat in the back of a police cruiser, staring at the handcuffs on her wrists, trying to stay calm and not think about the woman hanging from a rope inside the house.
She hoped somebody’s wires got crossed, because she’d been cuffed and pushed into her current seating assignment. It had taken a lot of years, but she’d finally grown accustomed to a casual touch from a friend, or a stranger in passing. But this… the cops had put their hands on her. Pushed me. For a moment she’d been eighteen again and terrified, without enough air to breathe.
Luckily she’d breathed her way through enough panic attacks to know how to control the fear. She was still rattled, but she no longer needed a paper bag to breathe into.
She’d gotten a text off to Callie before the cops had arrived so somebody knew where she was. Then she’d been surrounded by cruisers, ambulances, flashing lights. For Christy, Eve thought, the memory of her empty eyes still fresh. And terrifying.
“Oh for God’s sake. You cuffed her? You weren’t supposed to arrest her.”
Noah Webster. She looked up through the window and met his eyes beneath the brim of his hat. She said nothing as he opened the rear door and unlocked her cuffs.
“I’m sorry, Eve. A little miscommunication there.”
Eve rubbed her wrists gingerly. “Have you seen her?”
“Your friend? Not yet. Come.” He took her arm and urged her to her feet.
Eve yanked away, panic still bubbling too close to the surface. “Where?”
“To my car. It has dark windows. I don’t want the press taking pictures of you.”
She followed, but when he opened the passenger door the panic boiled up and over, closing her throat. Didn’t your parents teach you not to get into cars with strange men?
It was his voice. Winters, the man who’d left her for dead, five years, eleven months, and eight days ago. His voice taunted when she was panicked. Or stood next to a man’s car. Even a man she trusted.
“Are you all right?” Webster asked.
“I’m fine. Fine,” she repeated focusing on Noah’s voice. He was real, in the here and now. She forced herself to get into his car, flinching when he slammed her door.
“I need you to listen,” he said when he’d slid behind the wheel. He stared straight ahead, his jaw hard. “We know about your work.”
She forced her face to remain composed. How did he know? “Really,” she said.
“Really,” he repeated tautly. “You might be in danger. Stay here while I check.”
The word “danger” gave her pause. “Don’t cuff me again. Please.”
“I don’t plan to.”
“How did you find out about my work?”
He looked at her then. “I’ll ask the questions for now. When did you arrive?”
There was disapproval in his eyes. Were it Donner, she’d understand. But Webster had no cause to disapprove of anything she’d done. She’d broken the rules, not the law. “About three minutes before I called you,” she said stiffly.
“How did you know to come here?”
“Christy didn’t show up to work today. I was worried.”
“So you knew her well?”
“Well enough.” Which was true. Martha had been all about the merchandise when she came into Eve’s Pandora store in Shadowland. She came to buy face upgrades for her Desiree avatar, while Christy’s Gwenivere had come to chat. Martha had been all business. Christy had just seemed lonely. Within a few visits, Christy, through her avatar, had blurted her whole real-world life story, including where she’d worked.
And now she’s dead. “Her eyes.” Eve swallowed hard. “They looked unnatural.”
“I know. Do you know if Martha or Christy had problems with anyone from work?”
“Besides the one who killed them?” she asked sharply, then looked down at her hands. “No, I don’t know of anyone who would have done this. I wish I could help you.”
“So do I. So far you’re our only connection between three dead women.”
Eve’s chin jerked up. “Three?”
“Yes. The other was Samantha Altman.”
Eve tried to see the participant list in her mind. They had over five hundred test subjects. Samantha Altman was not a name she remembered. “I don’t know her.”
“She didn’t work with you?” he asked, still disapproving. Disappointed.