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“What about heavy metal? Did she listen to that?”
“Clara? No chance.”
“Podcasts? She listen to any of those?” Ella asked. “Sorry about the weird questions.”
“No. No podcasts. Not her thing.”
Ella and Ripley exchanged a look of frustration. It was like this unsub had done a complete one-eighty and hurtled in the opposite direction. This didn’t match up at all. These murders seemed like the work of three completely different unsubs. No other serial killer in history had used M.O.s this disparate before. Even the Mimicker had limited himself to knives and guns.
“Can you tell us anything else about Clara? Anything that might help us figure out who did this?” asked Ella.
Jason took his time. Ripley tapped her fingers against the door, much to Ella’s annoyance. There was a time and place to vent your frustrations and it wasn’t here. Ella gave her a light smack on the arm. Ripley got the message.
“Yeah. Her car. Did you find it?”
In all the commotion, Ella hadn’t even thought about that. “No. Did she drive to her gig last night?”
“Yes. Her car has a dash cam. I installed it myself because she was always getting into bumps.”
“That’s great,” Ripley said. “We’ll definitely check that out.”
It was a long shot, but the camera might have caught a glimpse of this unsub. They still didn’t know how or where the killer was finding these girls, and if they were random approaches, that meant he probably did it on the street.
“Dark,” Ripley continued, “you finish up here and I’m gonna call the chief and try and locate Clara’s vehicle.” She moved out of earshot and stuck her phone to her ear. Ella moved a little closer to the grieving husband.
“I’m sorry for your loss. Accept my apologies for my partner. She’s a bit hot-headed.”
Jason scratched his beard and sniffled. “How did she die, officer? I need to know.”
“Hanged by the neck. Hopefully she died quickly.”
Jason cupped his mouth. “Oh, God. Why would someone do that?” he cried.
“Killers’ motives rarely make sense to anyone but themselves, and whoever did it is going to pay dearly. If you think of anything that might be helpful, or you need anyone to talk to, please call the local P.D. and ask for Ella.”
“Thank you. Good luck. Please catch this madman.”
Jason went back inside. Ella caught Ripley just as she was stuffing her phone in her pocket.
“Clara’s vehicle is up by the lake. Some runners found it this morning. Come on, we need to take a look. With any luck she caught this bastard on tape.”
That was the hope, Ella thought, but she instinctively knew that this killer was much too smart for that.
***
Clara’s red Toyota lay abandoned on the roadside, half of it buried in a shallow ditch. Ella tried the handle on the passenger side. To her surprise, it opened up. Ripley got in the driver’s seat and the two checked it out from top to bottom. Ella climbed in the backseat and rummaged under the chairs.
“A car of convenience,” Ella said. In her experience, there were two types of cars for a woman. The woman who used it to get from A to B and the woman who used it as a portable storage closet. Clara Provost was the former. There were no personal possessions save for a few CDs and a blanket.
“Useless,” Ripley said. “How do we get this dash cam thing on?”
Ella climbed back into the front. “Usually it just records and you watch the footage on an app, but Clara’s got a screen on here. We could turn it on if we could start the engine up.”
“Say no more.” Ripley pulled out her own car keys. She uncurled a small screwdriver from a Swiss Army Knife.
“Are those things legal?” asked Ella.
“Not everywhere. Neither is this.” Ripley jammed the screwdriver into the ignition then bent the knife until the channel popped.
