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“Go on.”
“The last time a serial killer claimed two victims in one day was 1973. Before that, 1888.”
“You and your statistics,” Ripley said. She took the marker off Ella and wrote;divorced, public figures,then drew a circle around them. “Okay, so we know our victimologies. Now we need to figure out who these killers might target next.”
Ella had been giving this some thought during her speech. Now she had to give Ripley the bad news.
“In a city this size, we’ve got no shortage of both. There are literally thousands of potential victims walking around right now.”
“Yup.”
“So, we’ve got two options. Stake out every single potential target and wait. Or…”
“Or?”
Ella gulped down an unexpected ball of saliva. “Or we manufacture a victim for him.”
Ripley looked unconvinced. “Trap him?”
Ella nodded and said, “The Ripper is trying to one-up the Rose Killer. For all we know, the Rose Killer is planning on doing the same. Once he knows the other killer called him out, he’ll up his game. So, all we need to do is craft the perfect victim and put them where we know they’ll be watching.”
“It could work,” Ripley reasoned, “But how?”
“You can thank Gail Brookes for this idea because I saw it in her notebook. We hold a press conference.”
Ripley grinned ear to ear. “You seem to have missed a vital piece of information there, Dark. Who’s we?”
“Who do you think?”
Ripley turned to the board, then back to her partner. “No. You’re not bait for a serial killer. That’s a bad idea. What if neither of them go for it? Or, what if they do, but not right away? They could come for you months down the line and you wouldn’t even know it. It’s too risky.”
Now it was Ella’s turn to laugh because Ripley had it all wrong.
“Who said anything about me?”
CHAPTER TWENTY NINE
The last time Mia had done an on-camera interview was in 2005. She’d never actually watched the footage back, but it didn’t take an egomaniac to conclude that she wasn’t as photogenic as she used to be.
“I never thought my divorce would still haunt me twenty years later but here we are.”
Three hours since the idea took hold and already they’d amassed a sea of bloodthirsty reporters outside the Davenport offices. Ripley, Ella, and Sergeant Grant waited in the lobby. At the opposite end of the parking lot, Iowa News One had set up a small podium in record time – their gift for exclusive broadcast rights for the next twenty-four hours.
Ella patted her partner down and smoothed out the lines on her black dress. “You look great.”
“Do I?”
“Yeah. Elegant with just the right amount of grit. Every man’s fantasy.”
“Thanks,” Ripley said. She moved away from her makeshift tailor, slipped out her phone, and snuck in a quick text to the new man in her life. She told him to get online and watch Iowa News One because she was about to be on it. Ripley always assumed she was long past accolades for the sake of ego, but she couldn’t deny that she had an urge to impress Martin, even if this was all one big hoax.
“Remember what to say?” asked Ella. The rookie looked more nervous than Ripley did.
“The Davenport Monster is a weasel with tiny balls. Words to that effect.”
“Close enough.”
Grant chimed in, “How’s this guy gonna know you’re divorced? You can’t exactly slip that in.”
