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This had all the hallmarks of one of those cases that could really put them through the wringer—especially if the killer struck again tonight. Because that would mean they were dealing with a serial killer, and then all the normal rules would be off the table.
Unpredictable attacks, constant pressure, and opportunistic crimes added together to make serial killers some of the hardest criminals to catch. And this one hadn’t made any mistakes yet. Laura prayed they would find him before they needed him to mess up—because if it got to that stage, there was no telling how many lives might be lost.
***
Laura had a bad feeling as she cautiously sank down into the chair they had pulled into the room for her, hearing it squeak as old springs protested. At least it had cushioning. This case, though, was starting to feel anything but comfortable. “All right, what do we have?” she asked, spreading the pages of the file indiscriminately across the desk.
Next to her, Nate scratched his chin through his beard. “Well, I think the sheriff might be right about there being no link between the women. This is looking more and more like crimes of opportunity.”
Laura groaned. “I was hoping you weren’t going to say that,” she said. She didn’t need to worry about insulting the sheriff by not agreeing with him—he’d left them to it. They’d requisitioned an empty meeting room and turned it into their makeshift headquarters, setting up a board ready to stick up images and start making notes.
“Well, I don’t see anything between them,” Nate said, pointing at the files as he grabbed two printed images. The women as they were when they were alive, newly provided for them by the sheriff’s team. He stuck them up on the board as he talked. “Let’s make a list of what we know about them. That might help.”
Laura rubbed her eyes to clear them and lifted up the first page of information with a heavy sigh. “All right. Caroline Birchtree. Lived alone, no boyfriend, divorced but the husband has an alibi. Thirty-one years old, working as a waitress at a restaurant downtown. No car, so she took the bus to work every day. Lived here her whole life, didn’t go to college.”
Nate’s marker pen squeaked against the board as he jotted down everything she was saying in fast, sharp-angled capital letters. “Okay. And Laura Carlisle?”
“Lived with a roommate, but she was alone at the time of the murder. Dating a guy around her age, but he also has an alibi. She was twenty-two, worked as a nurse, and had her own car. She moved here right after graduating college in the area, but she’s originally from Michigan.”
Nate tapped the board. “So, all I’m seeing is that we have two women who were alone in their homes at the time of their death, and they were killed right there.”
Laura groaned out loud again. “You’re right,” she said. “Unless something comes up that links them down the line, we’re looking at unrelated victims. Damn it.”
“I second that,” Nate said. “What about the killer? We’ve got two strangulations, two women alone at home in the evening. All in the Albany area, so we’ve got that going for us. We just have to figure out if there is a motive, or if it’s a crime of opportunity from someone with the urge to kill.”
That was an unwelcome thought. Laura hated these random cases. They were always so hard to work on. If the killer was making sudden decisions or acting out of passion, then he hadn’t made any plans. That meant there was no determined future in place, nothing for her to see. She might not be able to get any clear visions about him at all, if it went that way.
But then there had been the déjà vu. Whatever that meant. There was something going on here that she couldn’t put her finger on. She had to hope that meant visions would come.
“We’re at a dead end already,” Laura said, frowning. “There’s hardly anything to go on.”
“Well, we can hope for something in the more conclusive forensics report, once they’ve had a few days,” Nate said. “Although that won’t be much help if he strikes again tonight.”
“Yeah.” Laura paused, thinking. There was only one thing they hadn’t done yet—aside from going over the same ground the police had already trodden on with the other crime scene and the other Laura’s family. Which didn’t seem like a good use of their time, given that Laura had seen with her own eyes that nothing was missed in Caroline’s case. “We need to listen to that nine-one-one call.”
“I’ll get the sheriff’s tapes,” Nate said, getting up and heading for the door.
Laura nodded as he went, trying to steel herself. Listening to 911 calls was never easy, especially not when the killing happened during the call. It was always a traumatic experience. But she had to do it, because if she got close enough to the killer, she might be able to see him.
And there wasn’t much closer you could get than hearing him breathe right into your ear.
CHAPTER TWELVE
“Miss? Can you hear me? Can you respond? I need you to stay on the line. Miss, are you there?”
Laura closed her eyes for a long moment, trying to keep down the lunch they’d eaten on the plane. The computer speakers in front of them continued mercilessly, playing the sounds of a woman losing her battle to breathe.
Caroline Birchtree gasped and choked on the recording captured by the 911 dispatcher. There were occasional loud bangs and thuds; having seen the place now, Laura could picture her kicking out, hitting the cupboards, connecting with the counter. It sounded as though she was fighting hard.
The recording was heartbreaking. Laura clenched the side of the table until her knuckles popped. Slowly, the sounds of choking petered out. The dispatcher kept asking over and over again if Caroline could hear her, if she was all right, telling her to hold on and to stay on the line.
Finally, there was silence.
There was a clunk of the handset hitting the floor, and then footsteps walking away. A tinkling of glass, only just audible, as he went back to the bedroom and presumably exited the house. Then nothing.
Sheriff Lonsdale cleared his throat, a gruff sound that broke the heavy hush. “It goes on like that for about four or five minutes, before our first responders arrive and you can hear them break down the door,” he said. “No more noise from her, and he’s long gone.”
“Play it again,” Laura said, gesturing toward the screen.
