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“No, the call came in while you and I were out this morning. But Captain Moreno set up a meeting at noon. We’re due to meet with her at her office at the University of Washington School of Medicine. An older lady by the name of Kathy Upton. She’s supposedly an industry expert.”
“And have the others on the list been contacted?”
"All but one: Sophia Ross. She hasn't answered calls, and when a unit went by her house, no one was home. Last I heard, they're going by LaRange Labs. We don't know for sure she works there, but it's the last place listed on her records as a place of employment."
“So it seems like she’s the one we really need to focus on.”
“For sure. We already have a few units out looking for her—hunting down friends, family, and co-workers. Bur for now, you and I need to get ready to head over to the University of Washington. If you want, of course. I’m not keen on bossing around a fed.”
“No, I think that’s the best bet for now. No sense in us just adding to the pool of officers already out on task.”
“Let me grab a coffee and I’ll meet you out back at my car.”
Rachel took her leave, stepping back out into the bustling station. They had one remaining name to check into in the form of Sophia Ross, and an expert who seemed anxious to speak with them. It was a lot to juggle in a short period of time, but Rachel would always be juggling than sitting and twiddling her thumbs.
Phones were ringing, officers were coming and going, and the tension of the moment felt as if it were only growing thicker. She still felt it as she made her way back through the doors and outside, as if the urgency of the case was actually pushing her along, urging her to do whatever she could to bring it to a close.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
He picked up the key card badge with Molly Stevens’ face on it. She was smiling in the picture, a depiction of a woman who cared for her job and was maybe even happy on every single morning she used this badge to get into work. Holding it and studying it filled him with a sense of pride and accomplishment. It wasn't something he'd felt often in his life, but on the occasions he did experience it, he held on to it desperately.
When he’d started on his mission, he’d been under the impression that the act of murder would torment him—that he may not have the stomach for it. But when he’d managed to not only kill Jane Adler, but also get away with it—all of that had changed. He’d enjoyed it. And by the time he’d gone after Emma Willis, he’d been relishing the moment he could take her life as well.
And then there had been Molly Stevens. He’d nearly messed up when he’d gone into her house, almost getting too anxious and stepping right up to her front doorstep where he knew there was one of those electronic camera-equipped doorbells. He’d opted to strangle her just because, at that point, he’d become familiar enough with the act of taking a life that he wanted to see it fade from her eyes.
And after he’d killed her, he’d taken the ID card he’d seen sitting on her kitchen counter.
He’d also taken little souvenirs from Adler and Willis as well. He’d taken an empty vial from Adler’s lab, which currently sat in front of him, on his cluttered desk. From Emma Willis’s apartment, he’d taken her datebook, which had been sitting among her piles and piles of paper and files.
He observed all of these little trophies as he sat in the murky light of his study. And as he looked them over, he wondered if sending the letter to the police yesterday may have been a mistake. He’d essentially tipped them off, showing his hand—admitting that yes, he was going after any and everyone who had anything to do with stem cell research.
He’d done it because he felt his mission deserved more attention. Yes, there had been news items, both on television and in print (and of course, some of social media as well) but he felt more people needed to know. And not because he cared anything about people knowing about him. No…he felt he needed to open more people’s eyes to the travesty of the practices taking place in so many of these anti-aging studies and their wretched labs. Not too long ago, the topic of stem-cell research and practices had been a hot-button topic. But somehow it had become commonplace; more than that, it had become widely accepted and even applauded.
Maybe if he could get the topic back into the public mainstream and remind people of its horrors, things could be corrected. And maybe, just maybe, his taunting letter to the police might help to stoke that fire.
He knew who he was going after next. Like all of the others, he’d studied this woman. She wasn’t a doctor, but a researcher and soon to be a co-head of an organization that went to hospitals all around the nation to make sure they were all well-educated on the many different ways stem cells could be used in multiple arenas of medicine. He knew where to strike and had a pretty good idea of how much time he'd have to get away before anyone showed up on the scene. This one would be a bit riskier than the others, mainly because he was going to have to strike in broad daylight. It was just going to be the easiest way to do it…especially if he was trying to wrap up his work here in Seattle in the next few days before moving on.
Could he pull it off in broad daylight, though? Was he really up for such a challenge? What if he messed up and, in his over-confidence, all of his work went to waste?
“What to do…?” he asked the empty room.
But he already knew the answer. There was no way he could turn back now.
Boston was next. There were two hospitals who worked in the same capacity, both pushing hard to really get stem cell therapies and techniques to become much more common. He figured he’d have to spend at least three months on researching those doctors as well, but it would be worth it.
But he couldn’t let his prospects of the future derail him. Right now, he had to focus on Seattle. He was nearly done…just three more remaining. He wasn’t stupid; he knew it would be harder with each murder because the police presence would just continue to grow by leaps and bounds.
He sat forward at his desk, moving like spilled ink in the shadows of his small office space. The rest of his apartment was quiet and still all around him. He grabbed the binger he’d been putting together—filled with articles he’d found and notes he’d taken. There were timelines and codes, all helping him to get into Adler’s lab and Willis’s apartment. Milly Steven’s had been a bit harder, but one day a few weeks ago, he’d gone to her house and hunted for the spare key. He’d found it beneath a flower pot on the patio…and now it here, in his office, as part of his little collection.
He opened the binder, flipping past the pages concerning the three women he’d already killed. There were two more women and a single man he needed to take care of. Actually, there were more than that in the city, people who had dabbled in stem cell research but had eventually stopped. He supposed they’d seen the error of their ways, so he therefore saw no point in taking their lives.
He turned to his next victim, starting at the picture of her he’d found online. He looked to her daily schedule, though he already knew it by heart. he knew she was next, and the idea that it could happen before nightfall filled him with a pleasure and longing that was almost sexual in nature. Smiling, he then looked back to Molly Stevens' ID and spare key, Jane Adler's stolen vial, and Emma Willis's planner.
He wondered what new souvenir he’d add to his collection next.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Rachel felt the slight push of urgency follow her as she and Sullivan left the precinct and drive down the streets leading to the University of Washington School of Medicine. And it was still with her as they walked into the large, modern-looking building where Professor Kathy Upton kept her office.
