AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Go ahead.”
Ella grabbed latex gloves from the box, knelt down beside Abigail Cartwright, and placed a hand on her back. Ella wasn’t sure why. Maybe to build some kind of connection with her, or perhaps it was an apology for not acting quickly enough to save her life. If they’d figured this unsub out, Abigail would still be living her life. The thought choked her, but Ella swallowed it down and carried on. Some people weren’t lucky enough to just carry on, she thought.
Even in death, Abigail seemed to be full of grace. A frilly blue dress, open-toe shoes, curly brown hair that rivaled even Ripley’s locks for pure majesty. Ella scanned her from top to bottom for anything that might provide some insight into this unsub’s thoughts, actions, or motivations, but other than the trauma to her neck, Ella saw nothing but a picture of tragedy. Bland death, disturbing in its simplicity.
She navigated to the woman’s hands, hunting for a sign that Abigail might have fought back. Her palms were smooth and uncalloused. No cuts, no bruises, no blood beneath her fingernails.
But she did spot something on her ring finger.
Ella took a closer look, applying a little logic and probability. Ripley appeared behind her and observed, “Poor woman. Couldn’t have been older than twenty-five.”
“Indeed,” Ella said. “Ripley, weird question.”
“No surprise there.”
Ella ignored the comment. “What age did you get divorced?”
“Forty-three. You’re right, that is a weird question.”
“You know many people who get divorced in their early twenties?”
“I don’t know many people who get married at that age, let alone divorced. Why?”
Ella highlighted Abigail’s ring finger. “She’s got a white mark where her wedding ring used to be. She’s tried to hide it with a smaller ring. She’s recently separated.”
Ripley took a closer look. “Nice catch. And given how she’s dressed, she just got back from a night out. This woman was on the prowl.”
Ella turned to her partner, rolled her eyes. “Mia, not every woman is on the prowl. It just means she was out.”
“Semantics,” Ripley said. “I agree with the analysis though. Anything else?”
“Not a whole lot to work with.” Ella got to her feet and took in the whole scene at a glance. “He came through the front door, blitzed her. Police got the call just after one a.m. and she’s been dead around seven hours, so he left the scene immediately. No savoring. No sexual assault. In and out like a military operation.”
Ella cast her mind back to the previous night at the mention of one a.m., recalling her surreal conversation with Clarissa Reed. A whirlwind of thoughts stirred up as Ella rested herself against a gloss-white kitchen unit. She accidentally nudged a block of kitchen knives, their steel blades rattling in unison. She managed to grab them just before they toppled over, but as she placed the block back in position, she noticed something nestled behind them.
Something familiar. Something she’d seen once already but had completely forgotten about.
“Mia,” she tapped her partner. “Check this.”
Ripley moved in closer, her eyes narrowing as she focused on the smooth, velvety article that glimmered against the stark white of the kitchen table.
“A rose petal,” Ripley said.
“The same as what the coroner found on Vanessa’s body.” Ella scanned every corner of the room. “And I can’t see any flower arrangements around here.”
Ripley clutched the petal between her fingertips then motioned for a forensic officer to join them. Ripley passed it on and said, “See what you can find on this. Our perp might have handled it.”
Ella was deep in contemplation, piecing together the fragments of the crime scene to form something that resembled a distinct picture. The jigsaw pieces were there, but unarranged and distorted. The events of last night were still weighing heavily on her conscience too, so her focus wasn’t as crystal as she wanted it to be.
“What if our unsub poses as a delivery guy? The victims would see the flowers, assume they’re from an admirer? Then bam, he’s inside.”
Ripley pursed her lips and said, “We need to see if Abigail ran in any of the same circles as Vanessa. Something connects these two, possibly three victims. If our unsub was targeting random women, he wouldn’t take this many risks.”
“Right. He’d just attack random surrogates in more isolated areas. He’s gone to great lengths here. These women were picked for a reason.”
Ripley said, “There’s at least a twenty-year age gap between Vanessa and Abigail. That’s a big variation. If there’s no connection between the two, we can assume these are substitutes for a woman who wronged him. They could represent his trigger at different stages of her life.”
“That gives us a huge age range. Could be a wife, could be a mom.”
