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“All five victims were found with the pink handcuffs,” Baz began. “The first four had been painted with Krylon glitter spray paint, available in any craft store. We’re waiting on lab results for the fifth pair of cuffs. The first two, found fifteen and thirteen years ago, were painted with paint from the same lot, probably the same can. The second two, found eight and then five years ago, were painted with the same lot, but different than the first two. The paint itself is pretty much untraceable.”
“I remember,” Navarro murmured, looking over their analysis.
“All were buried in parks,” Kit continued, “all around San Diego County. The first was found in a downtown park by a man whose dog found the victim’s tibia bone. The rest were found in different parks by random people with metal detectors. Fortunately, two of those three people hadn’t actually uncovered the handcuffs. They backed away after exposing one of the victims’ bony fingers and the other victim’s decomposed face.”
Kit often wondered about the subsequent mental health of those random people who discovered bodies. They were a catalyst for the murder investigation, but most had never seen an actual body outside of a funeral before discovering the grisly remains.
The few she’d interviewed while working cold cases still had nightmares, years later. Just another ripple effect of a killer’s cruelty.
“One of the guys with a metal detector did find the pink handcuffs,” Navarro recalled.
“Yes,” Baz agreed, because he’d worked that case, too. “But he seemed to be a stand-up guy. Promised he wouldn’t divulge the detail.”
Navarro looked up, his eyes sharp. “Find out if he continues to be a stand-up guy. We’ll address this differently if it’s a copycat killer.”
“On our list, boss,” Baz said. “We’ll seek him out today.”
“So this victim is the first one called in by a potential witness,” Navarro said thoughtfully. “Killer or caller?”
“We don’t know yet,” Kit confessed. “His nervousness could be an act. This doer has been killing for between seventeen and twenty years—that first victim found fifteen years ago had been in the ground for a while. Maybe he’s bored of anonymity and wants some media exposure. Or the caller could be a legit witness.”
Navarro grunted his acknowledgment as he returned his attention to the analysis. “All the victims had jewelry, none of it expensive. So he’s not taking jewelry as souvenirs.”
“It’s kind of weird that he doesn’t dispose of the jewelry,” Kit said. “One of the first four victims—Ricki Emerson—was ID’d through her jewelry.” She was the only other victim they’d ID’d before Jaelyn. “You’d think he’d have learned his lesson, assuming he knows that Ricki was found.”
“Unless he’s not worried about that,” Navarro said. “Levinson seems to think that he wants it known.”
Dr.Alvin Levinson was their criminal psychologist. He’d consulted on establishing the killer’s profile—middle-aged white guy with a flair for the dramatic—but it was too vague to be of any real use. Not anyone’s fault. They just didn’t have the evidence for anything more.
“Part of his thrill,” Baz said. “Will they be found or won’t they? If they are, can the cops figure out who she is? If they get an ID, will they trace her to me?”
“Something like that.” Navarro shrugged. “It’s a theory.”
“It’s what I’d do if I were a killer,” Kit agreed. “Especially a cocky killer. I’d want to play with the police. It’d be part of the game.”
“You would be a cocky killer,” Baz said with a fond nod. “No question.”
Kit rolled her eyes. “The victims were all between five feet tall and five-three,” she said, getting them back on track. “Weighed between a hundred and a hundred twenty pounds. Jaelyn is five-one and weighed one fifteen, so she’s right in his range. She and Ricki Emerson went to different high schools, so there’s no overlap there.”
“Dammit,” Navarro muttered.
“But,” Kit said, raising a finger, “both Ricki Emerson and Jaelyn Watts were in their schools’ drama clubs. We’re going to talk to Ricki’s family and friends again to hopefully find more commonalities with Jaelyn. Of course, it’s been ten years since she disappeared—eight since her body was discovered—so getting good recollections isn’t guaranteed.”
“If anyone can do it, you two can,” Navarro said. “I remember that Ricki disappeared in September, so there’s no pattern to his abductions, either.” He tapped the page in front of him. “I like this format. It’ll make my conversation with the captain much more straightforward.”
“All Kit,” Baz said with a hint of pride.
Kit’s cheeks heated, but she wasn’t going to deny it. One of her strengths was communicating ideas in a clear manner. No one ever left any of her briefings confused.
One side of Navarro’s mouth lifted. “Thank you, Mr.Miyagi. Are you going to make her wax on and wax off during her lunch break?”
Baz laughed at the gentle Karate Kid ribbing. That he was Kit’s mentor had always made him proud, and she treasured their relationship.
“If I thought I could get away with it, I would,” Baz said. “My car needs a good waxing. Marian’s been nagging me about it for weeks now.”
“Don’t even think about it,” Kit said. “Our first priority is a positive ID on the victim. Then checking with the only witness to see the pink handcuffs to make sure he hasn’t told anyone. He found the second victim thirteen years ago, so again, we’re talking a lot of years in between.”
“A lot of years that this killer could have been killing other victims we’ve never found,” Baz said soberly. “We’re requesting any missing-person reports that fit the profile from all the neighboring precincts going back twenty years. We might need help running down leads, depending on what we find. I’ve been through a lot of those reports already over the years, trying to ID our three Jane Does, but Kit and I are going to take a fresh look together.”
