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Cassie sighed. “I know you don’t believe in my abilities and you’re not convinced that what I can do is real. And I’m not sure today is going to help with that.”
“Why do you say that?”
“My abilities have been fading since Novak’s death.” It took all of Cassie’s strength to keep her voice from wavering when she spoke his name. “Honestly, I thought they had all but disappeared. That is, until you visited me yesterday.”
“Me?”
“You.” Cassie swallowed and looked back at the young family in front of her. They looked so happy. So carefree. So ignorant of what the two women on the park bench were discussing. “Last night, I saw one of the murdered women. And again, today at the museum. That’s why I called you.”
“You saw one of the murder victims?” Detective Harris’s voice was dubious.
“I don’t know who it was, but she had a huge gash across her neck, and it looked like her heart was ripped out of her chest. The timing makes me think she’s one of your victims.”
Harris didn’t bother hiding her surprise this time. “That information hasn’t been released to the public.”
“May I?” Cassie gestured to the folder in the detective’s hands, and when Harris hesitated, she dropped her hand. “I don’t mean any disrespect, but if you don’t trust me or want me involved, why did you agree to meet with me?”
“I do trust you. Or, rather, my colleagues do.” She handed the folder over. “And that’s good enough for me. For now.”
It was difficult for Harris to say that, and Cassie didn’t take this for granted. She waited a few seconds to brace herself for what she might find inside the folder. She had been down this road dozens of times, but it didn’t get easier.
Cassie held her breath as she opened the folder. She was met with a small picture of a woman paperclipped to the medical examiner’s report. Her name was Hannah Williams, and she was killed three weeks ago. When she flipped the paper up, there were several eight-by-ten images of the woman’s dead body in the woods with close-ups on the gash across her neck, and of her empty chest.
Cassie’s stomach tightened, but she kept her face calm and relaxed as she moved to the next woman. Jessica Tran. Killed two weeks ago. She had the same slash across her neck and the same wounds in her chest. Her heart had been cut out.
When Cassie turned to the third and final victim, it took her a second to recognize the face of the spirit that had been haunting her. Found dead in the woods two days ago. Her throat was slit, and her heart carved out of her chest.
Cassie pulled the paperclipped file out and set it on top of the closed folder. She read the name out loud. “Elizabeth Montgomery.”
Detective Harris’s eyebrows pinched together. “You recognize her?”
“She was the woman I saw this morning. And again, this afternoon.”
“How did you know her wounds?”
Cassie returned the detective’s gaze in silence. She was used to this part—the confusion, the discomfort, the distrust. Sometimes she was met with anger or fear. Detective Harris had landed on disbelief.
“They were hard to miss. I didn’t see them the first time. She was crouched over my bed. But when she came to me in the museum, she was standing upright. She reached out to me and tried to say something, but she made no sound.”
Harris looked confused. “She’s the third victim in as many weeks. They were all killed the same way. The department doesn’t want me to tell the press we may have a serial killer in Savannah, but the media is asking a lot of questions.”
“Are there any connections between the victims?”
“Not that we can tell.” Detective Harris’s voice became tight. “Other than that, they’re all women, they’re different ages, different races, different hair colors. Different jobs, different socio-economic statuses. Their home addresses are in different parts of the city. They have different blood types and medical histories. If I’m being honest, we haven’t been able to figure out why any of them have been targeted.”
“Crime of opportunity?” Cassie asked.
“Statistically, women make easier targets.”
“Any sexual assault?”
“No. Which tells me there’s another reason why they’re being chosen. This isn’t a typical case.”
“You came to me because you thought there was an occult element. Why?”
Detective Harris looked up at the sky, as if she were searching the clouds for answers. “It feels ritualistic to me. Their hearts were cut out. There’s a reason for that. What is it?”
Cassie stared down at Elizabeth’s face. “Is there a pattern to the days they showed up dead? Any holidays? Special dates for the victims?”
