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Male voices sounded from below. Griff hurried down the stairs, careful not to spill his coffee. He’d need it to clear his head.
Max Thornton sat at a desk with his hands on a keyboard and an array of monitors in front of him.
Jake stood behind him, speaking to an image on one of the screens in front of him. “She was wearing a wedding dress, but she was strangled by hand, not a wedding veil?” Jake shook his head. “Maybe it’s related. The timeframe is right. And just because he strangled two women with a wedding veil doesn’t mean he always will. We’ll check with the parents of the bride. Are they still in the area?”
“They’re still in Colorado Springs. Swede will text the phone number and address.” Hank’s voice came over the speaker as clearly as if he stood in the room with them, not on a ranch in Montana.
“At this point, we have to follow any potential clue,” Jake said. “Something has to give soon. I’m worried about Ms. West.”
“So am I,” Griff said, joining them in front of the screen with Hank on video conference. “Hank.”
“Griff. How’s our client?” Hank asked.
“Sleeping,” Griff said. “She had a rough night with nightmares about her sister’s death.”
“I’m glad she’s getting some rest. The accident, her sister’s death weighing on her, and now, her own death threat. She has to be stressing.”
Griff nodded. “I overheard you talking about another victim?”
“A couple of months before Christy Severs’ murder, a young bride, Misty Lantz, was murdered at her wedding reception. Strangled, not with a wedding veil, but by hand.”
“And you think it’s related to the Wedding Veil Killer?” Griff asked.
“It could be. It was in Colorado Springs; the woman had black hair and green eyes and was in her twenties like the others.”
“We can check it out today,” Jake said. “We’re still trying to figure out why the gap in years between killings. Swede ran a scan on the national crime database searching for wedding veil strangulations.”
“Anything?” Griff asked.
Hank shook his head. “Lots of black-haired females in their twenties, but none strangled with a wedding veil.”
“I had a thought about the gap,” Griff said. “What if he couldn’t get to women for the past fifteen years?”
“He’d have to have been in a monastery,” Jake said.
Griff met Hank’s gaze. “Or jail.”
“On it.” A blond-haired man’s face replaced Hank on the monitor.
“Swede,” Griff said.
“That you, Griff?” Axel “Swede” Svenson gave Griff a brief smile.
Griff nodded. “It’s been a long time.”
“Special mission in Somalia?” Swede gave a crooked grin. “We were lucky we didn’t have our asses handed to us on a platter that day.”
“Damn right.” Griff lifted his chin. “Good to see you well and happy.”
Swede’s grin slipped. “Yeah. Sorry to hear about your team. They were good men.”
Griff only nodded.
“Give me an hour. I might have something on the criminals released in the past six months to a year who served sentences of twelve to fifteen years.”
Griff’s brows rose. “An hour?”
Swede’s lips pressed together. “I know. I’m slipping. Out here. I have work.” His face disappeared, and Hank’s came on.
