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This killer was clever, but so was she. With each piece of evidence, each sliver of data, she was reconstructing the narrative they had tried to obscure.
"Nothing is random," she whispered to herself, her resolve hardening. "Every choice has a purpose.
Ethan and Rachel scanned the ground, searching for any other evidence, but Rachel was beginning to doubt they'd find anything.
This killer... he knew what he was doing.
He was taunting them. That much seemed clear now.
She paused, hesitant.
"What?" Ethan said, noticing her sudden hesitation.
"Remi was native," she said softly.
"So?"
"Anna was native."
"Ah... And these two cops. Also Native?"
She nodded, tapping her nose.
"But what about Kendra, er... Maria, I mean."
"What if she was just in the wrong place at the wrong time?" Rachel said, glancing at her partner. "What if she was an unwitting witness, so he shot her. But what if she was never the original target."
"So... you think he's targeting people on the reservation?"
"Looks like it."
"What about her?" He waved a hand towards the woman who'd been shot in the leg. "He clearly wanted her to suffer."
"Do we know who she is yet?"
"No."
"Check the wallet."
"What wa..." Ethan trailed off as he followed her pointed finger. Two of the forensic techs were using snippers to cut a piece of fabric clear. Attached to it was a half-melted wallet.
He gave her a quick glance, then hastened over.
She watched as he took photos of the wallet. Most of the plastic cards were burnt beyond recognition. But after a few seconds, she saw her partner tense in excitement, then turn and hasten back towards her, waving his phone.
"Got her name?"
"Nah. That part was burnt. But got a library number."
"A what? From a library card?"
"Yup. Come on, let's see if we can get a name from it."
The two of them turned, hastening back towards their car if only for a respite from the sun.
The car's interior was an oven, waves of heat rolling off the dashboard. Rachel slid behind the wheel, her fingers recoiling from the scalding touch of the steering wheel. Ethan shut his door with a thud, the sound swallowed by the oppressive Texas sun.
"AC," he muttered, twisting knobs as if they could summon salvation. Rachel didn't respond, already booting up her laptop with movements that suggested urgency rather than impatience.
