Page 61 of Fatal Pattern

They both stopped and straightened, the significance hitting them simultaneously.

The Keplerian image overlaid nearly perfectly with the crime scene. Every major element—body, furniture, evidence—fell along the fractal’s lines forming a hexagon with additional internal lines forming triangles.

“What did we just stumble into?” she whispered.

The crime scene hadn’t been the result of a frenzied attack or even a calculated murder designed to look passionate. It had been choreographed. Arranged according to a specific mathematical pattern that required advance planning, precise measurements, and an understanding of fractal geometry that went far beyond casual knowledge.

Blade’s jaw tightened as he stared at the screen. “This wasn’t just murder. This was . . . art.”

“Sick art.” Tori’s stomach churned. “Someone killed Donald Florek and then arranged his body and the scene according to this pattern. They turned his death into some kind of geometric statement.”

“Which means our killer isn’t just methodical.” Blade saved the overlay image to his tablet. “They’re educated. Sophisticated. And they wanted us to find this connection.”

“Why?”

He met her eyes, and she saw the same realization reflected there. “Because they’re not done.”

17

Blade stared at the iPad screen, the geometric patterns of the fractal overlay searing his retinas. The patterns lined up exactly where his gut had told him they would. Hours of dead ends and false starts and now he had traction.

Exhaustion gave way to the energy that came with a solid lead. Or maybe it was his third cup of coffee, or the butter and sugar from the pastries working their magic. Either way, his mind sharpened, cutting through the fog of the last twenty-four hours.

Kiara’s words from that morning still rode shotgun, though. No shouting, no tears. Just that level, gentle tone of hers, steady enough to gut a man.

“You’re in love with her, Blade. You just can’t see it yet.”

He hadn’t argued, but maybe he should have. Wasn’t that what women wanted? A guy to fight for them? But the look in her eyes said it didn’t matter what he claimed. It was already over. And if he was honest with himself, he knew it was the right thing to do.

Still, he’d find a way to make sure Kiara didn’t get burned for helping them. She’d risked that nice, clean record of hers pulling the Crew file. It was the kind of favor that could cost her a career if anyone upstairs came sniffing. He owed her for that, no matter where they stood.

Later. Right now, a murderer was out there, probably planning his next move.

Wrong. They’d found his signature.

He flicked a glance at Tori. A faint smear of gauze peeked out of her sleeve where her arm had been patched. She hadn’t noticed him watching, too deep in whatever web of data she was spinning. They were in sync. Two investigators with a clear mission to track a highly intelligent killer who turned murder into mathematical patterns. If they were going to catch him, Blade had to get his head in the game.

“This guy’s organized. The scene is too perfect for this to be his first time.” He tapped the image on his iPad. “We need to find out if there are other victims.”

“Agreed. Learning more about his pattern can help us figure out how he chooses his victims and what his timeline looks like,” Tori said.

“I need you to take what we know and build me a picture of the kind of unsub who would do this. Education level, background, psychological drivers, the whole package.”

“You got it.” She used a band from her wrist to put her hair up in a fast ponytail as she talked. “I’ll call Harlee and see if she can bring me some clothes.”

Blade pushed back from the kitchen island, already reaching for his phone. “I’m going to make some calls while this lead is hot. Get people moving on this.”

He scrolled through his contacts and found the number for the Florida Department of Law Enforcement’s Pattern Analysis Unit. Three rings, then a man answered.

“Kobilinsky, Pattern Analysis.”

“Larry, it’s Blade St. James, Broward Homicide. I’ve got a fractal-aligned staging thread from a homicide. I need a cross-case MO search—Florida-wide, N-DEx if possible. Give me five to ten matches with case numbers, agencies, dates, and a concise ‘why this is a match’ for each.”

“Fractal-aligned staging?” Larry’s voice sharpened with interest. “That’s a new one. What are we looking at for parameters?”

“Sharp force trauma, knife or similar weapon. Clean crime scene. Victim is a professional, lives alone, no forced entry. Scene shows extensive blood spatter, but killer took time to arrange elements in a specific geometric pattern. The staging isn’t random. It’s geometrical.”

“Okay . . .” He drew the word out.