She sighed. “Keep digging, Billy. See if you can do something to make this a more manageable number.”
His eyebrows went up. “For instance...?”
“Start with Kansas. That’s where our errant Florida corn leaf came from — make it Fords sold in Kansas in the last, say, ten years.”
Choi smirked. “That’s still going to be a bunch.”
“But a smaller bunch,” Laurene said. “Didn’t Marshal Ferguson say he saw a blue pickup the night his family was killed?”
Choi snapped his fingers. “Right! That will help narrow it down.”
“Go,” Laurene said.
Practically bouncing, Choi moved back to his computer, and his fingers were soon flying over the keyboard.
Jenny gave Laurene a glance, which was enough to summon the African-American crime scene analyst to the petite blonde’s side.
Looking up like a little girl about to show Mommy her latest drawing, Jenny said, “Sheriff said Mr. Hanson was the county comptroller?”
“That’s right.”
Laurene liked where this was headed already — Harrow had told her Jenny was smart; now Laurene was seeing just how quick the girl really was.
“I checked on shooting deaths involving the families of public servants in the last ten years.”
“And?”
“Ten years ago, a member of the board of supervisors in McCracken County in Kentucky found out his wife was having an affair. He shot her and their three kids, her lover, and himself.”
“Jesus,” Carmen whispered.
Laurene could only think that it must be nice, being able to still be surprised by the evil that people could visit on each other. She’d been at it long enough that such revelations rarely made an emotional blip.
Jenny was saying, “Nine years ago, zero killings of that nature. Every year ever since? At least two, sometimes three separate instances.”
Carmen gasped — Laurene hoped it wasn’t just for the camera — but this news was news worth gasping over.
Laurene said, “That’s like... twenty something.”
“Oh, you can do math.”
It did not seem to be sarcasm — Jenny was no Billy Choi.
Jenny was saying, “Twenty-two, so far.”
Carmen, still stunned, asked, “How... how is that possible?”
“Killing strangers,” Laurene said, “is easy. So is getting away with it.”
From his computer, Choi called, “You mostly get killed by people you know!”
“Eighty percent of the time,” Jenny said.
“What I want to know,” Laurene said, shaking her head, “is how in the hell this SOB could carry out twenty-two such acts, murdering... how many?”
“Fifty-three women and children,” Jenny said. “Twenty-two mothers and thirty-one children. Eighteen boys, thirteen girls.”
The lab fell silent. Only the faint mechanical hum of sound and camera and computers could be discerned.
Finally Laurene asked, “How did he kill fifty-three people... and no one caught on?”
Jenny shrugged. “Killings may not all be his. But to answer your question? Small jurisdictions with limited police presence, spread across the country.”
Choi left his computer. “You know, in sleepy little Davenport, Iowa, they’ve had over two dozen bank robberies in the last ten years.”
They all looked at Choi expectantly, waiting for the other shoe to drop.
“I mean, you didn’t hear shit about twenty-one of them. Those other three though, they all happened in 2004 when George Bush and John Kerry were campaigning in town at the same time. That got the attention of the national media, made CNN and MSNBC, and still generates a kajillion hits on Google.”
“What are you saying?” Carmen asked, suddenly defensive. “That this is somehow the media’s fault?”
“No, not all,” Choi said.
Laurene said, “I think what Billy boy is saying is that this is a really big country, and it takes something completely off the charts to catch our attention... and he’s right. Our unsub has been operating below the radar. Hell, until fifteen minutes ago, we thought he was going exclusively after law enforcement... and, Carmen, before you found that leaf thing? We didn’t even know this monster was out there.”
Carmen said, “So... this guy we’re looking for... he’s killed fifty-some people?”
“Could be,” Laurene said. “Most likely not, though. We’re only reviewing the stats in the most superficial way, at this point. But we do know he’s killed three in Florida, and two in North Dakota. It’s also possible, because of the MO, that he killed Harrow’s family, as well. Which makes at least seven.” Turning to Jenny, she asked, “When was the most recent one?”
“Three days ago.”
Carmen said hollowly, “The night of our first segment on Crime Seen!..”
They all exchanged grave glances.
Laurene asked, “Where, Jen?”
“Socorro, New Mexico — family of George Reid, accountant with Socorro County. Gunned down.”
Laurene drew in a deep breath, let it out. “All right. You take Socorro, Jen — really dig in. See if the mom is missing a finger. Billy, take the truck tires. Carmen, you and I will interview the Hansons’ neighbors one more time, and maybe someone will remember something. First though, I gotta call the boss.”
Chapter Sixteen
Riding the other Crime Seen! bus, J.C. Harrow got out his cell phone by the second ring.
“It’s Laurene.”
“What have you got?” he asked. She wouldn’t be calling just to be sociable.
She filled him in on the startling discovery Jenny Blake had made — twenty-two separate attacks in the past decade that matched their killer’s MO!
He said, “We have no idea how many might be related to our cases?”
“No,” Laurene said. “But I’m betting the number isn’t zero.”
“Well, there’s only one way to find out. We’ll have to look into all of them. Check to see how many of the murdered mothers were missing a wedding ring.”
Laurene’s pause seemed endless to Harrow.
Finally she asked, “J.C. — with this revelation... aren’t we going to have to turn this investigation over to the Feds?”
He desperately wanted to say no, but they both knew the answer to the question. Christ knew how many lives were at stake here...
“Of course, turn over what we have... but first, make copies of everything, and tell Jenny to e-mail me the list of all the crimes.”
“So we’re not backing off?”
“Hell, no. We are, however, going to let the Feds know what we think may be going on, and they can investigate or not, their choice, their pace. In the meantime, we’re full speed ahead.”
“That is good to hear,” Laurene said. “Where do you want to start?”
“Your team will gather what you can there, and I’ll start on the Socorro killings. Makes sense, ’cause I’m just outside of town.”
“You are?” she said, surprise in her voice. She hadn’t mentioned these latest killings, specifically. “You’re on top of those killings, then? The, uh...”
“Reid family,” Harrow finished.
“What are you, J.C., a frickin’ witch? How in the hell did you know that?”
“I got a phone call late last night.”
“From?”
“Kate Pierson with the New Mexico state crime lab. Know her, Laurene?”
“No. Why’d she call you?”