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At that, the clerk nodded sympathetically. "Okay, if you're sure. But I think you need to keep an eye on it."
He hadn't been suspicious after all. The killer felt a rush of relief. He paid in cash and took his things. If he was lucky, no one would remember him, and the cops would have nothing to go on.
As soon as he was in the car, he did what he needed to do. He took three painkillers, washing them down with gulps of water. He applied the gauze and the bandages, hoping that this would now also immobilize the wound so that it stopped bleeding. It was still very painful. It would slow him down, that was for sure.
But now, he had to concentrate. Forcing his mind to obey him, the killer tried to suppress his pain and anger. They were not going to help him now. He had a job to do, and it had just become far more urgent.
He had to get going. He didn't have time to rest.
He looked at his watch. It was just after eight thirty in the morning. That gave him some leeway, though not a lot.
He had to be at the new house by noon because he had to take some time to prepare the place correctly. There was no way he was going to skimp on the details. His new victim must have the welcome she deserved, whether he was injured or not.
And then he'd make sure that the next kill was extra special, with none of the mistakes that had marred this one. In fact, he might have to compensate with some additions.
He was bleeding. He didn't feel good. He was afraid.
But he felt something else too. He felt an insistent, compelling desire to finish what he'd started.
He needed to kill again, and he wasn't going to stop until he had completed the perfect scene.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Fifteen minutes after leaving Global Security, Cami was shoehorned behind a desk in the corner of the local police department. It was the closest place Connor had chosen where she could work and try to explore the new theory she'd had regarding the victims.
Shiree and her husband had been out of their homes on a vacation. And yet, Seth, her creepy stalker, had seen a light on and someone moving around inside. He'd thought Shiree was in there.
How had that been possible? The only solution that Cami could think of was that this killer had known when they were going to be away and had used the time to gain access to their alarm system and figure out ways to get into their home.
The next step was to find out if these victims had advertised on their social media the exact dates that they were going to be away, and if so, where. They all had very public profiles, but as she looked back, Cami saw that Caroline had not advertised her exact dates, but just talked about being “away.” She needed to look deeper.
Because surely the killer would have had to select them somehow, and perhaps he used a more local hunting ground where they had given additional details. Maybe there was a suburban group where people advertised for house sitters or plant waterers and shared information more freely because they felt comfortable to do so in a smaller, local setting.
That would have meant the killer had an excellent hunting ground at the ready.
"Let's see if there is such a group," Cami muttered, edging further back toward the wall as a passing cop placed a pile of case files on the corner of the already cluttered desk. There was barely enough space for her laptop and a chair. Connor was waiting outside. This police station, in mid-morning, was frantic with activity. She could hear radios crackling and shouts for help from cops that were rushing out, summoned to urgent cases. It seemed that Boston was erupting with burglaries, bag snatchings, traffic offenses, and serious crimes.
Shutting it out, Cami bent her mind to researching these two women. She felt the utmost sympathy for them. They had not deserved what happened. And now, she was the one who had the IT ability that might be able to piece things together in a way that would expose him.
So, where had these victims talked and shared?
Cami sighed as she began her research, because it was so unwise that anyone should advertise where they were going to be for two weeks to a public audience. Anywhere. Even on a local group. It was so easy to piece together the breadcrumb trail that would lead a killer to their home address and give him the exact times that he could use to prepare. Why weren't people more careful, she thought, feeling agonized that it might have been their own oversharing that led to this terrible crime.
Connor was now leaning over her desk, thanks to the lack of space in this small police department.
"They were both very comfortable sharing details publicly, but I’m looking to see if this killer might have had a particular hunting ground that worked for him,” Cami explained.
“Especially seeing they’re all so local to each other?” Connor asked.
“Exactly. I’m digging to see if there was a group in common that he might have used.”
"Maybe someone got careless and said something," Connor said. "But you need to hurry, Cami. We’re taking up space here, and this is taking time. I’m already under pressure from Fraser. He’s messaged me twice today, and that’s while he’s been in meetings. When he’s out of the meetings, I’m going to have to give him answers.
Cami felt additional pressure that Connor’s boss was now also pressurizing them.
What did she knew about this killer? Thinking frantically while she ran her searches, she decided that they were dealing with someone who was living in his own reality. It felt like he was creating a twisted story for these victims, she decided. It was almost as if he was setting a complicated scene for their deaths. That was what she picked up from his strange behavior of working on their alarm systems, breaking into their houses, moving things around, and then killing them. She suspected that this person was seeking to create a real-life alternative reality for himself. She wondered if he’d started out in the virtual reality gaming world, realized that it wasn’t enough, and decided to move on, or whether he’d had a different motivation.
Connor nodded. "What are you doing? I’m going to message Fraser to get him up to speed."
