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"I’m running searches in two different directions. Firstly, I’m looking to see where they interacted and commented. Secondly, I’m running searches on groups in the area to see if they were members of those groups. Some of them are private. To save time, I’m using a combination of asking to join and also accessing the groups in other ways where I can."
“Okay, so legitimate asking and hacking?”
“Exactly,” Cami said.
Cami cut and pasted, cut and pasted, and searched and requested. Basic legwork but she could do it fast. She had the gift of speed through years and years of practice.
But, while she was still busy compiling these lists, hoping that this gave them some kind of lead, Connor received a call on his phone.
Cami glanced up, always alerted by a ringing phone. It was more often bad news than good, and she couldn’t help feeling extremely anxious when she heard this sound. Had another victim been found? That was her first thought, which gave her a sick feeling inside.
And to her dismay, her first thought was a hundred percent correct.
Connor spoke briefly and then turned back to her, and Cami saw his face. Her heart plummeted. She knew what he was going to say.
"You'd better leave that for now," he told her. "You can come back to it later. But there's been another murder, and we need to rush to the scene."
She’d failed. That truth felt like a knife in her own heart. She’d been afraid that this killer would target someone else, but she'd hoped that she could catch up with him in time. But she’d been too slow, and also, it seemed he was speeding up his interval.
It felt as if her worst fears were coming true. How could this have happened again?
And how many more were going to die? How many more were going to be lost to this monster?
She glanced at Connor's face. He was grim and focused.
She closed her laptop, hoping that by the time she opened it again, this search would have given her results. She felt sick inside. Someone else had died.
Connor was already heading for the door. Cami scurried after him, her mind on fire, trying to imagine what this killer was doing. He didn't seem to be stopping. He was going for his next victim, as if he was determined to kill them all. He was not going slow. Perhaps that meant he'd done all his research already, and now the only thing left for him to do was to pick off his targets one by one.
Connor gave her the facts as they rushed out of the busy police department.
"It's a suburb very close to Shiree's, neighboring it in fact. And the police who called it in said that it's a different-looking scene. We need to get there, now, and check it out."
"Different? In what way?" Cami questioned, but Connor shook his head.
"It's clearly the same MO, but it seems, from what the cops have just reported, like something went wrong. And that always gives us a potential lead. It's possible this killer made a mistake."
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Cami felt a thrill of pure anger as she jumped in the car and fastened her seatbelt, just as Connor hit the gas and sped onto the road. She was furious that no matter how fast they drove, no matter how quickly they rushed to the scene, it was already too late for this next victim.
Why was this man doing this? What was going on in his twisted, damaged mind?
And where was he picking out his victims, so sneakily and accurately?
This was going to be his last kill, she promised herself, trying to fight the wretched, helpless feeling she had inside, with a tide of pure resolve. No more crime scenes. No more senseless kills. Something had gone wrong here and that meant there was a chance to get ahead of him.
For the first time, as Connor accelerated along the main road, Cami didn't feel nervous at the thought of the crime scene ahead. Instead, she felt determined. She promised herself that this tragic death would not be in vain. At this scene, they would find a lead.
She heard the wail of sirens before they even reached the house. It had started to rain, and the ambulance and paramedics passed them in a blaze of flashing lights, leading the way toward a narrow turnoff from the main road that wound its way into a pretty suburban area, with parks and trees and well-kept houses.
Connor pulled up outside house number ten, joining several other vehicles. It was a big, well-kept home, recently painted, set in a neat yard, with flower beds and trees. Cami climbed out and they rushed in, with Connor showing his FBI badge at the crime scene barrier and pausing outside the house in the blowing rain to put on PPE before entering.
As Cami headed inside, trying to wipe her gloves free from rain, one of the police officers was coming down the stairs.
"Victim's upstairs. Her name is Tracy Hardy. It looks as if she hurt him before he got her," he said.
Cami's heart thudded hard. Someone had tried to fight back. They hadn't killed the perpetrator, but they had at least caused damage.
