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“Twelve sets of letters?” Cassie leaned closer to one of the piles in front of her. She avoided touching it in case it affected her. She hadn’t decided how she’d play that off in front of her sister. “Are we sure these are all of his victims?”

“No, not entirely.” David leaned against the table and surveyed their evidence. “The first letter is dated a few months before the first victim washed ashore. It lends credence to the idea that it was Shapiro’s first kill.”

“But?”

“But there’s no way to know without asking him.” David glanced at Cassie with a smirk on his face that she hoped Laura didn’t catch. “It’s possible he killed prior to that first victim and just didn’t keep the letter. Maybe he killed someone else as practice. Someone not in his typical victim pool.”

“Someone who wasn’t an addict?” Cassie asked.

“It’s possible, but unlikely. He has an obvious motive. Several years passed between his wife’s death and that first letter. He could’ve been doing anything in that time. Maybe he was killing, or maybe he was just preparing.”

“Preparing?” Laura looked a little green again. “What do you mean?”

“He had to find victims who would satisfy his urge to kill. In this case, addicts recently released from prison. He had to figure out how to get close to them. How to build rapport. Then you’re talking about logistics—where would he kill them and how? He needed weapons. He needed heroin to inject them with. That all costs money. It takes time.”

“If he tried to kill someone else, is that something you’d be able to find out? Without a letter, I mean.”

“Maybe. I’ve got Officer Paulson on the case. He’s looking into police reports from Shapiro’s assumed active years and trying to see if anything matches up. He’ll pull all records of dead bodies with similar injuries, even if they’re not identical, plus anyone who reported an assault that might match our case.”

“That sounds like it could take a while,” Cassie said.

“That’s why we’ve got a second goal,” David said.

“Which is?” Cassie asked.

“Since it’s going to take some time to track down the family members and figure out which ones are the more likely suspects, the second goal is to find the five remaining bodies.” He turned to Laura. “We found three when they washed in from the ocean. Once that got public attention, the bodies stopped dropping—or so we thought. He just changed tactics. He started burying them in the woods south of Pembroke. We found them two years later while we were looking for some missing kids. Then the trail went cold again.”

“Until now. Twenty years later.”

“Better late than never,” David said. “We know for a fact there’s at least five more victims. I’m hoping the letters will point us in the right direction.”

“Not that I’m complaining—because this is far more interesting than a night in front of the television—but how can we help? Why do you need a psychologist?”

“I’ve been through the letters once myself, but I need another couple sets of eyes. There’s a lot of information here.”

“And before you ask.” Cassie held up a hand to Laura. “David is very particular about who he lets in the circle. This is a privilege, Laura. Don’t abuse it.”

David rolled his eyes. “I’ve got plenty of guys who will do the work if I tell them to, but not everyone is cut out for this kind of stuff. Cassie’s a natural, and given your education and experience, I’m hoping you can lend a hand, too.”

“I’m happy to help, but I’ve never dealt with anything like this before. I counsel people after a trauma. I don’t try to make sense of a serial killer’s ramblings.”

“That’s the thing, these are not the ramblings of a serial killer. Or, at least, what Hollywood has convinced us a serial killer should sound like. They’re thoughtful, empathetic letters written between what appears to be two friends.”

A shiver went down Cassie’s spine. “In reality, they’re between a murderer and his future victims.”

“Where I’m having trouble is differentiating between fact and fiction.” David picked up a letter and skimmed it. “There’s information in all of these that is contradictory. He tells one inmate he’s unemployed and another that he’s a veterinarian. In one, his wife is still alive, and in another, she died of cancer a few months prior. We need to figure out which are obvious lies and which are the truth.”

“How will that help?” Cassie asked.

“He mentions several locations throughout his letters. Some of them might be real, which means—”

“They’re potential burial spots,” Laura finished.

“You got it.” David winked at her. “See? You’re a quick learner. Just like Cassie.”

Laura beamed.

“Anything else we should look out for?” Cassie asked.

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