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“I won’t say anything, Lex. You know me.” He doesn’t really, but he has to know I’m not looking for publicity on this case.
“They’ve all had their windpipes crushed,” he explains. “Someone most likely came from behind, put an arm around their throat, and squeezed until they died.”
“That takes an enormous amount of strength, Lex.” I’m shocked. Someone who uses a knife to sever a digit uses suffocation to kill? “Why not use the knife? Stab them or cut their throat?”
“My instincts are that he wants the scene as quiet and clean as possible. Blood is messy and leaves traces.” He shrugs. “Crushing the windpipe means no screaming, no noise, no mess.”
I dump the heinous coffee on the ground and crumple the cup in my hand. “But the victim would fight back, scratch the killer’s hands and arms, leaving DNA behind.”
Van Zandt shakes his head. “No. None. He must be completely covered up.”
“Jesus.” That means this is a trained individual. And smart. And not impulsive, which will make him harder to catch. More importantly, he matches the profile of Troy Wolski, the man who owns the apartment that Gavin’s father visited. We most likely have our man.
“I know,” Van Zandt agrees as if hearing my thoughts. “Nothing is done without reason,” he says.
“How long has it been since the last kill?” I ask, already knowing the answer from my research.
“When you received the finger,” he confirms.
“Dallas,” I murmur.
“Yes.”
“And you found the body that goes with the finger in Dallas as well.” I’m merely speaking out loud as I put the pieces together.
“Correct. And we linked kills to multiple other stops on Gavin’s travel schedule, going pretty far back. Wolski has taken no commercial airline flights to any of the cities where victims were found. The other team is still at the suspects home right now, executing the search warrant.”
My mouth falls open. “So this guy has been driving to all of these places? Following Gavin and killing people in different cities?”
“Appears so. We didn’t understand the pattern in the locations until that finger showed up in Mr. Walker’s dressing room. We probably never would have figured it out,” Van Zandt admits.
“But you said he’s careful and deliberate. So why help the authorities connect his kills to Gavin?”
“That, my friend, is the million dollar question.”
I stare at Van Zandt and smirk. “So, we just have to find the right person to ask.”
77
Gavin
My yeti companion pulls my SUV up in front of Dad’s hideous house, the light of dawn barely hinting at its arrival in the sky. Mitch never returned last night, probably still at the crime scene he wasn’t supposed to be at because he promised to be safe and to come home as soon as possible.
I scowl at the thought. He did eventually call, but being the brat that I’m always denying that I am, I ignored it, too pissed off to speak to Mitch. For the tenth time, I replay the message he left, listening to how exhausted he sounds.
Hey baby. I’m so sorry I didn’t call until now. I spent hours in my office and didn’t even realize how late it was until Sasha called to tell me they found another victim of this sicko.
Anyway, you’re probably asleep now (I wasn’t) and are angry with me (I was), so I’ll see you in the morning when I get done here at the scene.
Love you.
Another pang of guilt hits me. Mitch will be so mad when he finds out what I’m doing. But this is something I need to do alone. I have to face my father and find out why. Why he would send this sick man after me. Why he hates me so much he’d rather put a target on my back than admit that I’m gay.
At least I brought Bigfoot here with me. It had crossed my mind to sneak out alone. Then I thought about how furious I would be if Mitch pulled a stunt like that and decided against it.
“Wait here,” I tell the guard. “I’m sure I won’t be long, if he even opens the door.”
“Yes sir.” Bigfoot turns off the SUV and gets out of the vehicle.
