Page 34 of Dead Drift

Finley had an autoimmune disorder known as Raynaud’s, which affected her circulatory system and restricted blood flow to her extremities. When she got cold, which happened to her far easier than to the average person, her feet and hands turned purple. He knew it was painful, and the last thing he wanted was his wife in pain.

“It’s in the upper fifties. I’m okay, but I appreciate your concern.”

“It doesn’t take much to give you a chill.” He smiled softly at her. “Humor me?”

“Okay.” She moved the bag over to her right. “But only because you’re looking out for me and because you humor me as well.”

At the red light, he leaned over and brushed his lips across her soft cheek before planting a kiss on it. “I love you.”

“I love you too. Now focus on the road, Mr. McCray.”

“Yes, Dr. Scott-McCray.”

“It really is a mouthful, isn’t it?”

“A beautiful mouthful, if you ask me.”

“You’re still not focusing on the road.” She smirked.

“It’s hard to focus on anything besides you when you’re present, love.”

Her gorgeous smile, which lit up a room, widened. He couldn’t wait to get back to the hotel and curl up with his wife—she was the greatest blessing in his life.

“Okay, flirty, let’s get back to it.” She indicated the document.

“Right.” He exhaled, knowing he needed to hear it, but tensing at the thought of what he might learn about his sister’s killer.

“Would you like me to read the full report or summarize it?”

“I’m anxious to hear what Agent Evans came up with, so I’d like to hear the full report. But feel free to summarize or interpret as you see fit.”

Finley cleared her throat, her eyes tracking across the page.

“Adult male. Caucasian. Comes from money. Feels entitled. Single or divorced. No children. Early thirties to early forties. Athletic, as he’s able to move women’s bodies to the dumping sites.”

Finley winced. “Sorry for the cold term.”

“It’s okay, babe. You’re just reading what he wrote.” Besides, he already knew the cruel truth that his sister had been “disposed of.”

“He’s got above-average intelligence. Works in a job that suits his needed façade of a certain lifestyle and most likely provides him with either access to victims or the ability to hide behind it. However, his profession hardly stimulates him intellectually.

“He has limited family and limited contact with them. Most likely an only child. Very possibly had an overbearing mother or woman figure in his life.

“He methodically plans his abductions and murders. He stalks and studies his victims ahead of time. They aren’t chosen at random, nor are they abducted at random. The killing fulfills a hunger inside him.

“It is possible having the bodies wash up on shore is his attempt at sending a statement. Perhaps that the victim was . . .” She hesitated, biting her bottom lip.

“It’s okay, babe. Go on.”

“That the victim was garbage or waste to be dumped. Or perhaps the water holds a far deeper significance.”

Griffin sharply inhaled his anger, then slowly exhaled. Listening to the report was painful, but he knew what he was getting into when he vowed to find Jenna’s killer. He’d suffer through the pain, anger, and helpless feelings if it meant finally putting her killer behind bars.

“The profiler believes that the killer avoids detection by moving about the areas he’s in, and moving often, but now he clearly feels untouchable in the Houston area, as he’s been killing there for five years. The question is why? What is making him feel so comfortable despite the rising body count?”

Griffin was thankful for the information. He needed to understand Jenna’s killer to catch him, but in no way did he want to live in the sicko’s twisted mind. He’d heard enough. “I definitely believe we’ve missed other victims who haven’t surfaced. I hate to think how many there could be.”

“Should I call Kate? She’s the best at tracking missing people.”