Noah’s respect for her ratcheted up. “I take it you never saw the avatar who was with Christy Sunday night.”
“He wasn’t on.” She went quiet. “I’d convinced myself that a local killer trolling for local women was more likely to find my test subjects as we’d geographically stacked the deck. But now, three for three… Somebody has access to our subject list.”
“Jack is here. I’m going to put you on speaker. Who has access, Eve?”
“Jeremy Lyons. He’s Dr. Donner’s secretary. He typed the names in. And anybody who has access to Jeremy’s office. Jeremy keeps his user name and password on a sticky note under his desk blotter. If his computer is on, you can get in.”
“So anybody wanting the files would have to physically go to his office?”
“Well, no. If you connect to the university’s server from an outside line, you could also get in.” She hesitated. “With Jeremy’s password, that’s pretty easy to do.”
Which was how she’d found Christy’s address. “Who had access to his office?”
“Anybody who enters the building. Jeremy takes a lot of bathroom breaks and leaves his computer unattended. Anybody who knew about the study could have managed it.”
This wasn’t what he’d wanted to hear. “Which includes who?”
“Dr. Donner, the committee that approved my thesis proposal, any of the members of the study itself, most of the grad students in the department, and ShadowCo.”
Noah frowned. “Why ShadowCo?”
“They sponsored my research. Not a huge stipend, but enough so that their PR people could say they put money toward responsible use of role play games.”
“In other words,” Jack said, “a helluva lot of people.”
“Well, maybe somebody saw him with Christy on Monday night,” Noah said. “If he broke into her house, we should have seen evidence of forced entry. If he lured her out, hopefully somebody saw them. Does Shadowland keep track of conversations?”
“It’s up to the individual. A lot of gamers don’t want anyone to know where they’ve gone or who they’ve met. Anonymity is a benefit of the game.”
“If the user does choose to save the conversations, where do they go?” Jack asked.
“They’re saved to the gamer’s hard drive. I suppose ShadowCo may store them on their servers, but that seems unlikely given the volume of conversations. It would be like if the wireless companies kept track of each individual text message or IM. They don’t because they simply don’t have the capacity. Did you get Christy’s computer?”
“Yes, but it’s… unlikely that we’ll find anything on it.” Especially if the killer had switched Christy’s computer as he’d done with Martha’s.
“We may have to resort to old-fashioned detective work,” Jack said with a wry smile.
Noah didn’t feel much like smiling back. “Eve, for now, I’d like a list of anyone you know who could have accessed the files. We’ll start with alibis for Donner, Lyons, and the grad students. I’ll be in touch.” Noah hung up and leaned back in his chair. “Well?”
Jack lifted his brows. “I was right. She would have been great at phone sex.”
Noah gritted his teeth, irritated. “Jack.”
“You have no sense of humor,” Jack said and Noah gritted his teeth harder.
“Christy Lewis. She’s online chatting up avatars around midnight Monday morning. She’s gotta be dead before nine o’clock, because she doesn’t show up for work.”
Jack grimaced. “And there’s a snake involved.”
Noah took the lid off the coffee cup Jack had brought him and stirred in his normal four packs of sugar. “We can’t forget about the snake. Why use a snake?”
“ ’Cause he’s a sick bastard. You don’t need all that sugar. This coffee is good.”
Sugar had become his vice when he’d quit the booze. “Habit. Okay, so we know he’s a sick bastard. He’s killed three women. Still, why the snake?”
“Maybe Ian can tell us more after he finishes the autopsy.”
Noah stood up. “He said he’d do it last night. Let’s find out if he’s done.”
Tuesday, February 23, 6:45 a.m.
Liza cooked the last egg they had. They were always low on food, but she’d been afraid to spend any money until Lindsay came home. If she ever comes home. The police weren’t looking for her. Nobody was looking for her, nobody except me.
She closed her eyes, so tired. She’d covered miles the night before, only to come up empty-handed. No one had seen Lindsay. She’s dead.
A wave of grief washed over her. Don’t give up. If Lindsay was lying in an alley somewhere, hurt, she was frozen by now. Don’t give up.
She lifted her chin. She had an English exam today. When Lindsay did return, she’d kick Liza’s butt for failing a test and losing her chance for a scholarship.
She went back to her room to get ready for school.
Tuesday, February 23, 7:25 a.m.
Noah and Jack found Ian at his desk, typing a report. “I was going to bring a report to Abbott’s 8:00 a.m. meeting,” Ian said. “You didn’t have to come down.”
“We’re stuck on the snake,” Noah said. “We don’t know why he used it and were hoping you found something that would shine some light on it.”
“Because he’s a sick bastard?” Ian said sourly.
“Told you so,” Jack said.
“I was hoping for a more scientific explanation,” Noah said. “Anything, Ian?”
“Plenty.” He pulled the sheet from Christy’s body. “She has the same puncture on her neck and was positive for ketamine, just like Martha. Unlike Martha, Christy was restrained at her ankles. The rope burns are only on the front, bruising on the back.”
“She was tied to a chair,” Noah said.
“I think so. There is also swelling in her elbows.” Ian looked up, his eyes weary. “We see that elbow swelling when the arms are kept crossed over the torso for long periods of time, like this.” He demonstrated. “But there’s no evidence of arm or wrist restraint.”
Jack frowned. “Straitjacket?”
“It makes sense,” Ian said. “A straitjacket will immobilize without leaving marks. I found bruising between her shoulder blades, same height as the chairs around her dining room table. I think she struggled, repeatedly rocking back against the chair.”
“Trying to get away from the snake,” Jack said, horror in his voice.
Noah cringed at the thought. “He tied her to a chair and set a rattlesnake on her?”
Jack looked ill. “If she struggled, she wasn’t sedated. Why the ketamine?”
“Good question. Perhaps he sedated her before, to get the jacket on her,” Ian said. “Officially, strangulation was once again the cause of death.”
“He terrified her,” Noah murmured. “Why? Other than the fact he is a sick bastard?”
“Sometimes it’s just because they can,” Jack said.
Noah sighed. “True. But why a snake? How did he know that would scare her?”
“Most people are afraid of snakes,” Jack said thinly. “It’s a common phobia.”
“I suppose. Still doesn’t feel right. What else, Ian?”
Ian shrugged. “She ate waffles a few hours before she died, with maple syrup.”
“And time of death would have been when?” Noah asked.
“Sometime between five and six yesterday morning.”
Noah did the math. “So she ate waffles around 3:00 or 4:00 a.m. She either made them in her own kitchen or she went out.”
“I didn’t see any evidence that she cooked,” Jack said. “I think she went out. And at that time of the morning, there aren’t many places that serve. This is a good break.”
“So we take her photo to the all-night diners and waffle houses around town.”
“She also filled her tank with gas. There were traces of hydrocarbons on her hands.”
“A waffle house near a gas station,” Noah mused. “When will you get Samantha?”
“Sometime after eight. Since I’ve given you my prelim, I’ll stay here and start on Samantha Altman’s autopsy as soon as she arrives. I’ll be in touch.”
Tuesday, February 23, 7:45 a.m.
Eve was frying eggs when David stumbled into her kitchen, rubbing his eyes.