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He froze, his eyes on the painting that took up a majority of the wall.
It was a scene from the woods, with ghosts, or spirits, that looked like they were suspended between the trees. It was eerily similar to the crime scene in Redwater.
“Strange, isn’t it? It’s hardly the typical motivational artwork found in a home office. Does this match your crime scene?” a detective asked, standing beside Mitch who was still staring at the painting. There were eight spirits in the photograph, but Mitch had only taken down seven bodies. He realized he’d interrupted Peter’s work, and that meant he might start over.
“It’s very similar,” Mitch said. “Who is the artist?” he asked, stepping forward to see if he could find a signature on it.
He froze when he saw the name:Peter Benjamin.
Suddenly Mitch wondered if there was more than one crime scene reflected in this painting.
He looked to Jackson but he was busy looking at something else.
“Have you removed any photographs from the office?” Jackson asked.
“No, not yet. Everything is still in place,” the detective said as Mitch walked toward Jackson.
“Is Peter’s mother still alive?” Mitch asked the detective, who shrugged.
“I’m not sure, but I’ll find out,” he said before leaving the room.
The longer Mitch looked at the photograph, the more uneasy he felt.
Judging by the fine lines around her eyes and the softer skin on her neck, she was a good twenty or thirty years older than Peter in this photo. But Mitch could see the similarities between Peter’s mother and his victims. Blonde hair, petite frame, heart-shaped faces, beautiful eyes.
“I think she’s the cause of this. Zoe said there was a level of rage... I think something happened with his mother and he’s punishing these women for it,” Mitch said, thinking aloud.
“Then why keep this photo and display it in his office? It’s the only photo he has in a frame,” Jackson said.
Mitch shook his head. “I don’t know, but it’s not a coincidence that his victims look like his mother.”
“We’ve done a first sweep,” the detective said as he walked back into the room. “We didn’t find any rope or items that look like murder weapons. The house is clean.”
Mitch nodded. The house was clean because Peter had used Graham Laube’s shed to do all his dirty work.
Would Peter go back to Redwater?
Or another town?
There were probably a hundred old sheds on properties around Redwater alone—there were practically more sheds than people in the town.
Mitch leaned forward, taking a closer look at the photograph when something grabbed his attention.
Peter’s mother’s hair was parted and swept to one side, secured with a diamante clip. It wasn’t the same as the hair clips found in Graham’s shed, but it was similar.
The longer he stared at the photograph, the more uneasy he felt, because Zoe’s hair had been styled exactly the same way a few days ago.
He pulled out his phone and dialed her number—but the call rang out.
CHAPTER32
ZOE
“I won’t take no for an answer. It’s my birthday!” Jonathan said with that charming smile and a raised eyebrow.
“I’m so tired,” Zoe insisted, the excuse sounding weak even to her own ears.
Jonathan waved his hand dismissively. “Just come for an hour and then you can go home. In fact, I have to pick up a friend in an hour and a half,” he said, his eyes dropping to his watch, “so it’s perfect. Come for a little while and then I’ll drop you back when I pick him up. Have one glass of wine, relax, and you’ll be home before you know it.”
