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CHAPTER FOUR
It was eye-opening to Cami that even massive politics, corruption, and potentially dangerous backlashes within the FBI branch itself could not be allowed to stop the agents from doing what they needed to do.
“What is the case?” she asked Connor.
“Two murders, both women on their own at the time, both strangulations. Both are in fairly wealthy areas of Boston. One was last week, one was last night. There's no proof as yet that the murders are linked, but with the MOs so similar and the crimes so close together, the police have flagged it as a suspected serial, and the case was handed over to the FBI this morning, and it came to my desk. Or rather, my temporary desk," he admitted wryly. "There's very little evidence available in terms of how entry was gained in both scenes, and it seems that the killer might just have walked in through an open door, opportunistically."
Cami shivered at the thought.
“You think there might be some camera evidence?” she asked, making sure that her brain was on track with an investigator’s mindset.
“I’m hoping so, and since that is your forte, it’s a reason for you to come on board.”
Cami felt glad there was an opportunity to get to work. After what she’d been told, she needed something to take her mind off what was happening.
“So, both the homes had some security in place?” she asked.
“I’m hoping we can find some camera footage at the homes or on the streets. So far, there don’t seem to be any links between the two victims, but that’s something we need to look at more closely, because there might be connections that we only find out when we explore their phones." Connor reached up to a shelf and took down a new-looking folder. "I've put all the paperwork so far in here. I'm not sure if the crime scene is still open, but if it is, we can go around and take a look. I'll make a quick call and check while you read up."
Cami flipped through the folder as Connor spoke.
She saw photos of the two women. One, Lisa Court, was in her forties. The other, Debbie Maynard, looked younger, in her mid-twenties, perhaps. The women had both been alone at the time – Debbie lived alone and Lisa’s husband was overseas, which gave Cami cold shivers, thinking of the horror of flying back because of such a terrible reason.
There was no obvious similarity between the two women physically. Lisa was dark-haired, slim, sporty looking. Debbie had been taller, blonde, curvaceous, carrying a few extra pounds of weight and with a round, cheerful face. Reading on, Cami learned that Lisa worked in media and that Debbie had been a waitress at a local diner.
Lisa had owned her house for years, while Debbie was relatively new to the area and was renting a place, having moved from a small town into the big city just a few weeks ago. So definitely no immediate similarities there, either.
Lisa’s body had been discovered the same evening by pure chance. A neighbor, who was disturbed when her kitchen light was left on at night, had started calling irritably to remind Lisa to turn it off. Getting no answer, the neighbor had gone over and knocked. To her surprise, the front door had been ajar, and she'd found Lisa's body in the living room.
Debbie had only been found the day after her murder – she hadn’t arrived for her shift, and the diner where she worked had investigated.
The printed words on the pages did not convey the horrors of the scene or the terror of the victims. But Cami could vividly imagine that. This trouble with Bill Oertel was bringing the sense of threat close to home. She knew what it must feel like to have had an aggressive killer burst in. The terror, the helplessness the women must have felt. She shivered.
"Right," Connor said. "The second scene is still open and police are there. So let's get moving and see what there is to find there."
He stood up and shouldered his bag before heading out of their temporary office. Cami followed him as he strode out of the police station and headed for the car.
But as she followed him, her phone rang. It was a number she didn’t recognize.
Curious, she hung back and picked up the call in the lobby.
“Am I speaking to Cami Lark?” The man speaking sounded brisk, confident, businesslike.
“Yes, you are,” Cami replied, instinctively adopting the same tone, while wondering who on earth he was.
“Cami, this is Steve Billings. I got your number from MIT. Is it a good time to talk?”
Cami glanced at Connor, who was now standing by the car and looking back at her.
“I’m going into a meeting,” she hedged, by way of explanation, “but I can talk quickly.”
“I head up Rushmore Ventures. You might have heard of it. We're making waves in the tech industry. We have three successful startups in place, and I'm looking for IT talent. You were top of class at MIT. I'd like to speak to you, Cami. We're one of the industry's top payers, and for talented techs, promotions are stratospheric."
"That – that sounds very exciting," she said. "I'd love to hear more and to set up an interview." Even though she felt conflicted by saying the words, there was no way she could turn down the chance to find out what this was about.
It was a door opening for her, and maybe at exactly the right time. Did she want to work for the FBI after what was playing out now? It could be an opportunity to rethink her career and to go someplace safer.
Her year’s tenure being on call with the FBI had been a stumbling block for Cami, but the year was more than halfway over now. It seemed a lot different in terms of the timeframe than it had done at the start.
