“Another thing I don’t want that much,” Mallory murmured.
Rafe nodded a wry agreement, but said, “We’ll probably never know why Jamie went too far, if it was anger or just a… miscalculation. But we need to I.D. this woman. Notify her family.”
Isabel said, “A forensic dentist at Quantico is comparing her chart to those we have from women reported missing in the area; we should know in the next hour or so if there’s a match.”
“But we didn’t have charts for every woman,” Mallory reminded her. “Either they used dentists we haven’t been able to track down, or no dentists. Lots of people are still scared of sitting in that chair.”
“And none of the missing women had ever been fingerprinted,” Rafe added.
“Is getting an I.D. even going to help us?” Hollis wondered. “I mean, it’s closure for her family, which is great, but what’s it going to tell us?”
“Maybe if she was a regular client of Jamie’s,” Isabel said. “We can talk to her relatives and friends, check her bank accounts, hopefully find a diary or journal if we’re very lucky. But, yeah, I know what you mean. It’s not really likely to put us any closer to the serial killer. Or help us identify and protect the woman he’s undoubtedly stalking even as we speak.”
“And we’re running out of time,” Mallory said.
There was a moment of silence, and then a somewhat timid knock at the door preceded Ginny’s entry into the room.
“Chief, excuse me for interrupting-”
“You didn’t,” Rafe told her. “What’s up?”
“I’ve been trying to call Tim Helton, just to check if his wife came home, and I can’t get an answer. He doesn’t go to church and by all accounts almost never leaves the farm. He should be there.”
“If he’s out in his barns-”
“He gave me his cell number, Chief, and he said he always wears it clipped to his belt. I tried the house number, too, but there was no answer. And just the machine at the dairy number. It’s like the place is deserted out there.”
Isabel said, “I don’t much like the sound of that. If this killer is escalating, there’s nothing to say he might not have decided to change his M.O. and kill somebody in or near her own home. Or just come back later and take out the husband as well.”
“What worries me,” Rafe said, “is that Tim Helton is the type to get his gun and go looking himself if he feels the police aren’t doing enough to find his wife. The detective I sent out there to talk to him said he was angry and just this side of insulting about our efforts so far.”
“He has a gun?”
“He has several, including a couple of shotguns and rifles, and his service pistol. He was in the army.”
“That’s all we need,” Isabel murmured. “A scared and pissed-off guy with a gun-and the training to use it.”
“No sign of his wife?” Rafe asked Ginny.
“Not so far. Or any hint from anyone who knew her that she might have gone somewhere on her own. In fact, everybody says the opposite, that she was a homebody and quite happy at the farm.”
“Solid marriage?” Hollis asked.
“By all accounts.”
“No children?”
“No.”
Isabel drummed her fingers briefly on the table. “I say we go check it out. There isn’t much we can do here for the present, with no new information to go over. And we need to find Tim Helton, make sure he’s all right-and not conducting his own manhunt.”
Rafe nodded and looked at Ginny. “Anything new on any of the other missing women?”
“Not so far. Still nearly a dozen unaccounted for, if we go back a couple of months and take in the thirty miles or so surrounding Hastings, but only a handful even come close to fitting the profile. The reporter, Cheryl Bayne, is still missing; we tried the dogs, and they lost the trail a block or so from the van.”
“Where, specifically?” Rafe asked.
“Near Kate Murphy’s store. She’s the other woman missing from Hastings. We’re drawing blanks everywhere we check in looking for both of them.”
“Okay, keep at it.”
As the young officer turned to go, Isabel said, “Ginny? Are you okay?”
“Sure.” She smiled. “Tired, like everybody else, but otherwise okay. Thanks for asking.”
Isabel held her gaze for a moment, then nodded and smiled, and Ginny left the conference room rather quickly.
Absently, Rafe said, “You know, Rose Helton doesn’t fit the profile in one very obvious and possibly important way.”
“She’s married,” Isabel said. “So far, in all three series of murders, he’s only gone after single white females.”
Slowly, Hollis said, “I wonder what would happen if he found himself interested in a married woman? Would he see the husband as a rival? Would that make the chase-the stalking-even more exciting for him?”
“Could be.” Isabel rose to her feet.
Mallory got up with the rest, but said, “Since Kate Murphy and Cheryl Bayne are also still missing, I think they should be up there on the priority list too. If you guys don’t mind, I think I’ll run through the info we have on them and see if I have some luck in either finding them or at least ruling out a voluntary absence.”
“Good idea,” Isabel said. “The reporter especially worries me; if he’s killing to scare off the media or to make a point, then all bets are off. It would mean he’s changed in some fundamental way, and we have no way of knowing how or why.”
“Or who he could decide to target next,” Hollis added.
He wished he could stop the voices. The other things, the other changes, he could deal with. So far, at least. But the voices really were driving him mad. It had become harder and harder to shut them out, turn them off. They told him to do things. Bad things.
Things he’d done before.
Not that he minded doing the bad things. That was the only time he felt real, felt strong and alive. Felt free. It was just that his head hurt all the time now because of the voices, and he hadn’t slept through the night since… he couldn’t remember when.
The whole world looked surreal when you couldn’t sleep, he’d discovered.
And blondes were everywhere.
Tempting, aren’t they?
He ignored the question. The voice.
They’re just asking for it. You know they are.
“Go away,” he muttered. “I took care of the other one. The one you said nearly found us. Leave me alone now. I’m tired.”
Look at that one on the corner. If she swung her ass any harder she’d dislocate it.
“Shut up.”
Don’t forget what they did to you. What they’re doing to you. Even now, they’re corrupting you.
“You’re lying to me. I know you are.”
I’m the only one who’s telling you the truth.
“I don’t believe you.”
That’s because they’ve twisted your thinking, those women. Those blondes. They’re making you weak.
“No. I’m strong. I’m stronger than they are.”
You’re a wimp. A useless wimp. You let yourself get distracted.
“I’m not distracted. She has to be next.”
The other one’s more dangerous. That agent. Isabel. She’s different. She sees things. We need her out of the way.
“I can do her later. This is the one I have to do next.”
This one can’t hurt us.
“That’s what you think.” He watched as she came out of the coffee shop and continued along the sidewalk, an iced mocha in one hand and her list in the other. She always had a list. Always had things to do.
He wondered idly if she had any idea the last item on today’s list was to die.
11:00 AM
On their way to the dairy farm, Hollis said, “If Rafe hadn’t had to stay at the station a few more minutes to deal with a call, would you still have suggested separate vehicles?”