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“I’m not the police. And not to toot my own horn, but people talk to me.”
“True. But if they say no, you have to walk away.”
Sam rolled his eyes. “I know that. I’m not going to get myself arrested.”
“Again.”
“Again,” Sam conceded. “I also want to know how many victims this guy has killed. The police only said ‘several.’ Do you know?”
Joel hesitated. “Yeah.” Then he shrugged. “Fuck it. This is your life we’re talking about. So far there are six, including Skyler Carville. Maybe seven if the girl with the lilac uniform was a victim and not just missing.”
“She was,” Sam said quietly.
Joel nodded. “I think so, too. So does McKittrick. The girl’s name was—”
“Cecilia Sheppard,” Sam interrupted. “It was a quick google, once I knew what to look for. A missing teenage girl from Tomlinson High School eight months ago. What about the others?”
“They’ve only ID’d two of the other four. Miranda Crisp and Ricki Emerson.”
Sam noted the names on his phone. The disposable phone Joel had picked up for him last night, since his had been taken by SDPD as evidence. “Are they sure that these are the only victims?”
“No. Considering all the victims except for Jaelyn Watts were found by accident, most people believe there are more still buried.”
“In unmarked graves,” Sam murmured, remembering Jaelyn’s small grave. “How were they found by accident?”
“Dudes with metal detectors mostly.”
Sam frowned. “Like the kid who found Skyler’s body?”
“Exactly.”
“That seems convenient.”
Joel nodded. “Extremely convenient, and McKittrick already agrees. That’s why she thinks you were set up. But she has to be able to prove it.”
“And that’s not possible right now. Not unless she finds who actually did it. How far back do the murders go?”
Joel stared into his mug, then sighed. “Nearly twenty years.”
Sam’s mouth fell open. “Twenty years?”
“The first victim was found fifteen years ago, but she’d been in the ground for a few years.”
“Oh my God.”
They sat in silence for a few minutes while Sam processed this information. Twenty years? No wonder Constantine had been so emotional that night in Sam’s SUV. He’d been chasing the killer for twenty years.
And wasn’t that depressing? The cops hadn’t been able to catch this guy in twenty years? And Sam was hoping that they’d clear him soon?
He respected McKittrick, but he wasn’t going to sit around for another twenty years while young women died and his own life was ruined. “Are the missing-person reports public information?”
“Not as a blanket download. You’d have to request specific reports. Why?”
“Because there have to be other victims, and finding out who they are may tell us where they crossed paths with this bastard. The victims so far have been petite blondes who liked theater.” The theater detail had been included in Tamsin Kavanaugh’s article about Jaelyn Watts’s murder. “There are other resources for missing kids if I can’t get the missing person reports. The National Center for Missing and Exploited Children or the California clearinghouse for runaways. Someone at New Horizons might even be able to help me.” He’d been volunteering at the teen shelter for four years. One of the shelter’s full-time staff would assist him.
Joel hesitated. “I can make a request for the reports, but they’ll probably say no since you’re my friend.”
“I don’t want you to even try. I won’t put you or your job in danger, Joel.”
