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“You don’t sound convinced.”
“No, I just don’t like the idea that this could be a doctor or a nurse.”
“Wouldn’t be the first time,” Harris said. “There’s a whole category for it: Angel of Death.”
“But those are mercy killings. This doesn’t feel like mercy to me.”
“What about it’ll be over soon?” Harris asked. “That could fit in with the idea of a mercy killing.”
Cassie looked around and lowered her voice. “Their hearts were ripped out of their chests. What would be the purpose of that?”
Harris tipped her head back. “I don’t know.”
Cassie let the silence hang in the air for thirty seconds. “What are we going to do?”
“You’re going to go home and wait until I call you. I don’t want you investigating any more crime scenes or confiding in any more associates.”
“Please, I can help—"
“Ms. Quinn, do I need to remind you that you are not a detective, nor are you a police officer?”
“No, of course not. I—”
“Do I need to remind you that you are not an official consultant on this case?”
“No. Please, detective—”
“I appreciate your insight into the case, and I will take your advice about ritualistic sacrifices into consideration.” Harris walked Cassie back over to the barricade keeping the public back. “For now, I have a stronger, more promising lead to follow regarding the doctor angle. If that leads to a dead end, you will be the first person I call. Until then, please give me room to do my job.”
“Of course.” Cassie was angry at the way her voice trembled. “I’m sorry for any inconvenience I’ve caused.”
Harris looked down at her watch. When she spoke, her voice was still cool. “It’s been no inconvenience at all.”
Cassie knew it was a lie.
Twenty
He muted the TV and slammed the remote down on the table in the middle of the living room. Part of him wanted to cringe—it was an antique, after all—and another part of him wished to throw it through the window instead.
He did neither.
He stood and paced the room. The police force was doing a shoddy job of keeping the murders quiet. That lead detective, Harris, cared little for the young reporter with the blonde curls revealing more information than she should.
The reporter aggravated him, too.
To expect that his entire operation could fly under the radar would have been naïve. He knew that he’d receive some media attention, but he had hoped it’d be another week or two before that happened. Speeding up his timeline wasn’t appealing, but something needed to change.
He had thought about taking the correspondent as his next victim, or even the detective, but neither one of them fulfilled his needs. Plus, that would bring more attention to his operation. It would have been easier to kill the reporter, and maybe more satisfying given her smug appearance, but there was no way he could justify it.
He wasn’t a monster.
He had a job to do.
But he was also a realist. He wouldn’t take the option off the table, not completely. As a last resort, one of the women would have to go. Perhaps one could be used as a red herring of sorts. It could throw the cops and media off his trail and make them second guess what they thought they knew about the case.
The idea sparked his imagination and he chastised himself for not thinking of this sooner. Anger welled inside of him and he had to flee. He had to be outside. He had to be anywhere but here.
Through the hall, out the door, and down the front steps. The sun was warm on his face and had an immediate calming effect. It renewed his sense of purpose. He never wanted to lose this feeling. Taking stock of the fourth marker in his yard, he noted how the empty hole seemed to pull him. Last night he had retrieved the necessary ingredients to enact the next part of the ritual, but he had needed to wait one more day to put it in its proper place.
