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Faith’s phone buzzed, but any hope for a reprieve from dark thoughts was dashed when Brady Forster said, “Agent Bold, I’m sorry to bother you guys, but I thought you might want to know that we’ve received a missing persons report from Cedar Springs just south of Sioux City.”
Faith’s heart sank. She put the phone on speaker and said, “A missing person?”
“Yes. Name’s Shirley Brooks. Thirty-five years old. Her boyfriend said she didn’t come home last night. Normally we’d wait twenty-four hours before we take a missing persons report, but in light of recent events, I convinced my lieutenant to investigate this one early.”
“Thank you for that,” Faith replied,for all the good it will do.“I assume you’re checking storm shelters and grain silos?”
“Every abandoned building working outward from Cedar Springs,” he replied, “but it’s really slow going.”
Meaning that they were more likely to find Shirley’s body than Shirley alive.
“Does anything stand out about Shirley Brooks?” Faith asked.
“Not that I could see,” Forster replied. “She works as an administrative assistant for Blythe Energy. Seems reasonably pretty, but two of the victims were men, so I don’t know if that makes a difference. Lives with her boyfriend, obviously. I can send you what we have on her, if you want.”
“Yes, please,” Faith replied. “And keep us updated on the search.”
“Will do.”
A moment later, Faith received his email. “Got her file,” she told Michael.
Michael opened his laptop, and Faith said. “Use mine. I’m going to get some fresh air.”
“All right. I’ll look into Shirley and call you if I get anything.” He paused, clearly hesitant to say what he wanted to say. “I’m sorry I jumped down your throat earlier. I trust you to keep your focus on this case.”
Faith caught a hint of double meaning in that apology. “You can,” she replied.
Turk followed her outside and looked relieved when Faith didn't send him away. The air was still, and the sun blazed through the moist atmosphere, leaving Faith feeling like she was walking through a sauna. She sighed and headed to the other side of the building before sitting against the shaded side of the building.
Turk sat next to her, panting, occasionally sniffing the air. He didn’t whine irritably this time, so there was that. Maybe he was getting better.
Faith closed her eyes, but her mind remained active.
She tried to put herself into the mind of the killer. He picked abandoned buildings, far away from civilization, and locked his victims inside. He liked rendering them helpless. That meant he felt trapped in his own life. He left them alone to die as well rather than waiting and watching them die. That suggested that he felt unconfident. He didn’t want to stay by the scene of the crime and likely wouldn’t return as most killers did. The method of death, a surgical cut that would sever arteries and leave the victims to bleed out over time rather than immediately, meant he enjoyed suffering. Maybe he did stick around to watch them a while. Maybe he hid in the shadows and watched them bleed out. Maybe he contented himself with standing outside of the locked door and hearing their cries for help. Maybe he really didn’t stick around and just imagined how it must feel to bleed out slowly while you screamed for help and no one was there to hear you scream.
Let’s see you bleed, little girl.
Trammell watched his victims bleed. He liked to be up close and personal doing it, but then again, he was nearly seven feet tall and as strong as an ox. Perhaps their killer was slighter of build and so chose to remain hidden in the shadows to see his victims die.
She wouldn’t scream, wouldn’t give him the satisfaction…
She shivered and opened her eyes. Her profile might be valid, but that still didn’t help her. Plenty of people felt insecure, alone and helpless. She couldn’t interrogate every socially awkward person in western Iowa and hope that she got lucky.
It was the locations. It had to be. Michael seemed to believe that the locations were random, and the evidence seemed to suggest that as well, but Faith’s gut told her that wasn’t true, that the locations, those specific buildings, were the key to solving the entire case.
She thought back to their interview with Callum Jennings. He said he had never left his house and provided very compelling evidence to confirm that. He was getting his information on these locations online, finding photos and making up stories about them.
The photos. Someone was taking them. That someone had physically been to those buildings and knew exactly where they were.
She stood, and Turk barked and got to his own feet, wagging his tail.
She smiled down at him. “What do you say, Turk? Fourth time’s the charm?”
Turk barked a firm yes.
***
“I didn’t know there were professional photographic artists,” Michael said.
