She looked at the next crime scene picture.
The man was the second victim and his ID had been cut and marked up like the first one.
Exactly like the first one. Right down to the six-inch separation of his picture and his vital statistics.
“Our unsub is trying to strip them of their identity.” She quickly flipped through the rest of the pictures to confirm each one was precisely as JD had stated. Yep. Their unknown subject, or unsub, had a definite signature. “Their name, in particular. He wants them to be nameless.”
Or, more accurately, no longer connected to the name they had gone by prior to their abduction.
“We thought the same thing.” Felicia spoke up for the first time. “But why?”
Dak reached for another photo. “Answer that question and you’ll be closer to catching him.”
“He’s actually told us a lot about himself from the crime scene.” Kevyn shifted her gaze up to assess the rest of the group. “He’s highly organized and methodical. I suspect he borders on obsessive-compulsive in many, if not all, areas of his life. Also, these victims weren’t chosen by chance. He specifically selected them.”
The more she saw of the crime scenes, the more she became convinced of each one of those things.
“How do you know?” Dak’s tone said he didn’t disagree.
Probably wanted to know more about this weird person who’d ambushed his operation this morning. In spite of what he’d said, she suspected she still had a way to go in order to earn his full acceptance. “There’s no sign of struggle. He appears to have been able to subdue and capture his victims with little resistance. He’s probably snatching them in a place where they feel safe or comfortable. I’d bet he’s drugging them somehow.”
She spread the crime scene photos across the table in front of her. “There’s also the matter of the identification cards. He had to have scissors or a knife handy to cut them apart, plus a red marker to cross out the name and address. The lines crossing out the victim information are straight, so he likely isn’t shaking or stressed. Then he takes the time to place the picture exactly six inches away from the rest of the ID. All of this indicates a very well prepared and organized abductor.”
Dak nodded. “I agree. Any guesses about the significance of six inches?”
“All I can think of is the six degrees of separation theory.” She lifted her shoulders in a slight shrug. “But it could be anything.”
“Six degrees of separation?” Felicia leaned her elbows on the table.
“Yes. It’s a theory that any two people can be connected within six steps by social connections.” While Dak seemed to be tracking with her, she appeared to be losing Felicia and JD. “For example, I could connect you to the Australian Prime Minister in less than six steps. You’ve met me, there’s one step. I attended university in Sydney with a guy named Mick. That’s step two. Mick used to date Ally Lane. Step three. Ally Lane is the Prime Minister’s daughter. Step four and done.”
JD assessed her. “Trying to connect our vics using a six-step process is gonna be tough.”
“Nearly impossible.” Kevyn could already see the hundreds of lines they’d be drawing on the board to connect the dots. “I wasn’t saying we should do it, but I wonder if the Six-Inch Abductor isn’t somehow drawing on the theory in a way we don’t yet understand. If he’s drawing on it at all.”
If he was, they’d probably never figure out all the connections.
“Did you give him a nickname?” Felicia stared at her with a raised eyebrow. “Like the media would?”
Defensiveness rose in her chest. Heat flashed through her, drying her mouth. “I always give them a nickname. Something to differentiate them from other unsubs. It reminds me that they’re flesh and blood and can be stopped.”
“Six-Inch Abductor.” Sid tried out the words. “I like it.”
“It does fit.” Dak’s tone gave no indication of approval, but also didn’t sound disapproving.
It didn’t matter. This was her method and it worked for her. “You said there were a few connections between our victims. What are they?”
Dak settled back in his seat as Felicia approached the white board.
Pointing a manicured blue nail at the first victim, Felicia cleared her throat. “Susan Conrad worked at a high-end retail store and disappeared on her way home from work one night. Oliver Richards also works at that same store.”
That was a promising lead. Two of their victims working at the same store made it likely that their unsub was using it as a hunting ground.
“What about…” Kev looked at the picture of the brunette woman. “Wendy Watson?”
“No connection to that retail store that we can find.” JD shook his head. “Credit card records don’t even show that she shops there, unless she’s paying cash. Watson works as a teller at a bank two blocks away.”
Two blocks wasn’t that far, but when she considered how many people traveled those same two blocks on any given day, it seemed unlikely that Watson would’ve stood out.
“And we can’t find anything that links the Esterson kid to any of them.”
JD’s words hollowed in the sudden silence.
Ava Esterson sure felt like the wild card in this whole situation. The other abductees were all in their twenties. How did an eight-year-old figure in?
“Let’s remove her from our equation for the moment.” It almost hurt to suggest such a thing, but Kevyn couldn’t wrap her mind around how the child fit in.
Yet.
She would figure it out. Sometime.
“The only other connections we’ve made between the adults is that they’re all single. No significant others and no family nearby.” Felicia stared at the board. “Susan likes the nightlife. She has a very active social media presence, most of which shows her living it up with a variety of people. Oliver is a gamer. He spends most of his free time involved in online gaming groups. Wendy is a bit of a loner. She’s involved in her church and has activities there one to two times per week, but other than that doesn’t get out much.”
“You said they don’t have family nearby. What are their family situations like?” Dak leaned back in his chair, arms crossed loosely over his chest.
JD answered first. “Susan’s family lives in California. Phone and travel records indicate she doesn’t have a lot of contact with them. In fact, no one’s come up here, even though we’ve notified them of her abduction.”
“Oliver was raised by a single mom.” Felicia turned away from the board and reclaimed her seat. “She has mental health issues and has been in and out of treatment facilities most of Oliver’s life. She’s currently inpatient at a facility in Bellevue. Oliver doesn’t have a lot to do with her. And Wendy is really alone. No siblings and her parents died in a car crash three years ago.”
“So, our unsub chose victims that, by all accounts, wouldn’t be missed.” Dak’s gaze travelled between the members of the team.
A chill brushed Kevyn’s spine.
Dak was right. Her instincts screamed that these victims had been carefully selected because of their isolation.
Wendy’s life sounded hauntingly like her own.
Not the church part, but the alone part. No siblings, parents gone, no one to care if she lived to see another day.
“Why them?” Kevyn let her gaze travel across the faces of her new team. “There are a lot of lonely people in this city. Lots who are isolated. So why these four?”
No answer. Likely because they hadn’t discovered it yet.
She looked at Wendy’s picture.
The woman was pretty enough. A little on the plain side, but her shoulder-length medium brown hair looked thick and shiny, her skin had a rosy glow, and her smile was friendly.
A sharp contrast to Susan’s heavily made-up face, dramatic angular haircut, and gaudy jewelry.
If their unsub had a type, she couldn’t see it. The two women had zero physical similarities. Throwing in Oliver and Ava only complicated matters furthe
r.
The only physical quality these victims shared was being Caucasian.
She had to be missing something.
Serials almost always had a type. Some trait or characteristic that linked their victims.
She read through the victims’ vitals.
All were under five and a half feet.
Okay, that was something. A weak link, sure, but at this point she had to take everything they could get.
None of them appeared to be particularly well muscled. Susan and Oliver were packing a few extra pounds, Wendy was an average weight, and Ava was a child.
None of them would be particularly formidable in a fight.
Maybe the unsub didn’t want someone who could fight back. Or maybe couldn’t handle someone who could fight back.
“Where do they live? Do they have roommates?”
“Conrad does. Two other ladies, both older than she is. She rents a bedroom in a condo.” Felicia tucked a deep burgundy strand of hair behind her ear. “When we talked to them, they both said that Susan kept odd hours so it wasn’t uncommon for days to go by without them seeing her. She had her own bathroom and exterior door, so unless she needed the kitchen or laundry, she didn’t have to go into other areas of the house.”
“How well did they get along with her?” While it seemed unlikely that two middle-aged women would be responsible for a string of abductions, they had to be ruled out.
“Both are concerned about her disappearance, but it didn’t seem like they were very close to her. From what they said, she preferred to spend most of her time out.”
“Both Oliver Richards and Wendy Watson lived alone.” JD leaned back in his chair, fingers interlaced behind his neck. “Richards rents a small apartment in the Yesler Terrace District. Watson rents a little in-law cottage on the back of someone’s property in the Queen Anne District.”
“How long ago did our first victim go missing?”
“Susan Conrad,” JD pointed at the first picture, “Was kidnapped near her condo two weeks ago. After that was Oliver Richards, eight days ago, disappeared from a parking garage. We’re not sure why he was in the garage, because he didn’t drive to work, but that was the last place he was seen. Wendy Watson was next. She was taken leaving work four days ago. Then Ava Esterson, two days ago, on her way home from school.”
Dak’s black eyebrows shot up. “That’s a pretty fast escalation.”
“And that’s assuming that Susan was the first.” Kevyn stared at the blonde woman’s picture. “For all we know, he’s abducted more people and just adopted the signature with her.”
“It’s possible.” Felicia sighed. “With the number of people who go missing every day, it’s hard to say who might be connected.”
Dak gathered the file folders on the table in front of them and stacked them in a neat pile. “Okay. Four victims and four of us. We each take one and track their movements for five days before they went missing. I want to know every time they stepped outside. Every stop they made. Every person they spoke to.”
“We did that with the first two victims. We were partway through tracking Wendy’s movements, but then Ava went missing.” Felicia shook her head slowly.
Dak nodded. “I figured that was the case. Fresh eyes are always good. Kevyn and I will take the first two vics. Felicia, you keep tracking down Wendy’s movements. JD, you’ve got Ava. We’ll touch base at the end of the day and compare notes.”
“May I have Susan?” Kevyn silently begged him to be agreeable. If he refused, she’d simply work through Oliver’s file as ordered, then shift her attention to Susan. One way or another, she’d dig into Susan’s life, but it’d be much simpler if she didn’t have to pull double duty.
Dak didn’t even hesitate before handing her Susan’s file. “You think there’s something special about her?”
Yes. She bit back the snarky response rising to her lips.
Each of the victims was special. Each one was a living, breathing human being with a life and people who cared about them.
But that wasn’t what he meant and she knew it.
“Sometimes the first victim has special significance. If she does, she might help us not only find the connection between our victims, but also figure out where our unsub might strike next.”
She couldn’t dwell on what she’d do if Susan didn’t have special significance to their unsub.
Dak finished distributing the files. “Okay, let’s meet back here at five to debrief before we head out for the night.”
A glance at the wall clock showed that it was almost noon.
Five hours.
That should be enough time for her to learn a lot about the first victim. Hopefully enough to link them all together and stop anyone else from being taken.
Four
Ebony rested her elbows on the counter and focused on the words in the cookbook in front of her. The yellowed pages spoke of the book’s age and slight staining showed its usage.
Jax had said it once belonged to his mom.
A draft of air burst out of the vent above her head as the heat kicked on, blowing strands of her white-blonde hair into her face.
She brushed it away with the back of her hand.
She wished she could pull it back, but Jax hated it when she did that.
Focus.
It was already after five and she’d barely started on dinner. Jax would be home soon and dinner preparations needed to be underway so they could eat promptly at six.
He’d flagged the chicken and rice stir fry recipe he wanted her to make.
The chicken on the stove began to sizzle and she reduced the heat before focusing back on the instructions.
She pulled the pre-chopped veggies from the freezer and dumped them into another pan, then turned on the heat.
Imagine. Cooking. Her!
And she wasn’t half bad, not now that she’d gotten the hang of it.
Six months ago, she never thought she’d see the day. In fact, six months ago she hadn’t thought she’d survive long enough to see her twentieth birthday.
But then Jax had rescued her.
Now, she was twenty and safe and clothed and cooking. Cooking!
She giggled.
The sound seemed loud in the quiet space, but she’d grown used to the quiet. It was usually quiet here. Except earlier. When that little witch had attacked Jax for no good reason.
Ebony flipped over the chicken breasts, then stirred the veggies, her eyes narrowing on the pepper, onion, carrot, and broccoli blend as if they were somehow responsible for the scratches marring Jax’s neck.
Well, that ingrate had gotten what she deserved. And frankly, Ebony was glad to see her go.
Susan had tried to manipulate Jax. She’d tried to seduce him into trusting her, but Jax was too smart for that. At least Wendy didn’t seem to be like that.
She added the rice to the vegetables, as well as a cup of chicken broth, then carefully measured out the seasonings.
A dash of salt?
She looked through all the measuring spoons. Nothing that said dash.
Maybe it was one of the cups.
She checked those.
Nope. What was a dash?
Her stomach clenched and her breathing thickened.
A dash, a dash. Had Jax explained that to her?
If he had, she couldn’t remember. Sometimes she was so stupid!
She couldn’t get this wrong. Jax expected things to be right. Always right. But what was a dash?
Would he put her back out on the streets if she messed this up?
Footsteps sounded on the stairs.
Jax! He was home.
Her gaze flicked to the time.
A little after five thirty. Right on schedule.
Well, he wouldn’t expect dinner for another twenty minutes. Maybe, if he came straight to her, she could ask him about the dash.
The door on the other side of the living room opened and closed.
After wiping her hands on th
e towel hanging on the side of the island, she straightened the slightly damp towel and brushed out the wrinkles. A glance around the kitchen showed that she’d put all the supplies away as she’d used them, so the only items out were the ones she was actively using.
Next, her appearance. She looked down at the silky floral skirt that brushed her mid thighs. No wrinkles, lint, or flour. Good.
Her lacy top was also clean and neat.
Without a mirror, she couldn’t see her hair, but she’d brushed it not long ago so it should be fine. Still, she quickly ran her fingers through it to be certain.
His footsteps echoed across the living room now. Approaching the kitchen.
Then he was in the doorway.
Tall, muscular, and gorgeous. Why he’d chosen her, she’d never know, but she’d do anything to stay.
Even after a full day’s work, his slim fitting button down shirt and khaki pants looked fresh.
He smiled. “It smells like things are going well.”
Her hands fluttered as if they had a mind of their own and she forced them to relax at her sides. “Yes. The recipe is easy to follow.”
Except that dash of salt thing. Should she ask him?
Better to ask than to mess it up.
“But, um, it says to add a dash of salt. How do I measure that?” A breathlessness heightened her words.
Smile flattening, his eyes narrowed.
No! She couldn’t upset him.
“I’m sorry! I-I don’t remember this in a recipe before and I j-ju-just don’t wanna screw something up–”
Would he throw her out? She couldn’t handle that, couldn’t go back to the way things were before Jax had saved her.
Tears washed her eyes and she fought to contain them. He really didn’t like blubbering.
His expression softened. “It’s okay. You’re still learning.”
He rounded the island to stand beside her.
Heat radiated off his body and his spicy cologne comforted with its familiarity.
“Pick up the salt.”
She did as he bid, turning to look at him.
Wrapping his strong fingers around her hand, he led her to the stove, then helped her sprinkle a few shakes of salt into the stir fry mixture. “That’s a dash.”
Nameless (Sinister Secrets Book 1) Page 4
