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Michael fixed a look on her that chilled Faith, not because she feared Michael would hurt her but because it was filled with almost pure contempt. It was an expression she thought certain Michael would never direct her way, and seeing it killed her.
“She’s hiding from her ex-husband who is also a serial killer while her fiancé is sleeping in the same hotel room as his ex-girlfriend who also happened to accuse her of being a serial killer. So, you know, she’s doing great.”
Faith stiffened but forced herself to meet his eyes. “I’ve already apologized for that, Michael.”
“And that makes everything better, right?” he snapped. “I should just shake your hand and agree to be friends again?”
“Are we not friends anymore?” she asked, keeping her tone even.
“You don’t want to have this conversation right now,” he replied darkly. “Let’s just focus on the case.”
She pursed her lips and nodded.
“So what have you found?” he asked.
She took a deep breath and pointed at her laptop screen. “Well, not much. Forster and Dr. Montgomery lived in separate towns and grew up in separate towns. They were sixteen years apart, and as far as I can tell, they never met each other or interacted in person. Dr. Montgomery was a therapist and Patrick Jeter was a school superintendent and former teacher, like we heard. They have absolutely nothing in common.”
“They have something in common,” Michael insisted. “They have to. We just can’t see what that is yet.”
“Well,” Faith said, pushing away from the laptop and flipping her hand irritably. “Hell if I know where to look.”
Michael thought a moment, then said, “Look up their social media.”
“You think they’re online friends?”
“It’s worth a look,” he replied. “People have been killed over social media activity before. Remember the Morgan County case?”
In Morgan County, Missouri, a young college student had been targeted by a serial killer for posting photos of herself in a swimsuit on her social media page. Faith nodded and pushed back to the laptop. “I’ll take a look.”
Ten minutes later, she shook her head. “Well, I have to hand it to you, Michael. You’re as sharp as always.’
“What did you find?”
“Ulysses Pratt,” she replied, “Fifty-seven. He, Jeter, and Dr. Montgomery are all part of an online friend group called the Mental Health Reform Society. Evidently, Mr. Pratt disagreed with Mr. Jeter and Dr. Montgomery on some serious issues.”
“Serious enough to murder over?”
“From a healthy perspective? No. But I think it’s safe to say our murderer doesn’t have a healthy perspective.”
“Who else was in this group?”
“Mostly academics and mental health and educational professionals,” Faith replied. “Pratt’s the only other resident in the group who lives within a day’s drive of the victims. Guess where?”
“An hour from here?” Michael offered drily.
Despite the tension between them, Faith couldn’t suppress a chuckle. “Fortunately, no,” she replied. “He lives about twenty minutes away on the other side of Sioux City.”
“Does he now?” Michael replied.
He glanced at the window where the sun was just slipping behind the horizon. “Pratt a working man?”
“Auto mechanic,” Faith replied. “His shop closes… well, would you look at that? It looks like it closed ten minutes ago.”
“So he’s probably just getting home.”
“Probably.”
“Well,” Michael said, grabbing the keys to the cruiser. “It looks like we have our first lead. Such as it is.”
