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“We know he’s a male, most likely white if we’re going by statistical probabilities. Age? Hard to say, but we know for sure the man’s got strength, so probably twenties to thirties. Forties at most.”
“Why?”
“Dragging bodies out into fields. Abducting them off the street. Hoisting them up onto trees. Hanging someone isn’t easy.”
“Right. I agree he’s probably on the younger side. Victims?”
“All women. All young. Is he targeting them because of his own preferences or is he picking ones that match the victims of the original crimes? We know he’s choosing ones with similar names, but could that be a coincidence?”
“Tobias didn’t kill anyone named Clara or Claire or Kally or anything like that. Let’s not dwell too hard on the name thing.”
“Got it. We know he lives in this town. Cromwell said he was an outsider but I have my doubts. He’s killed them in suitably isolated locations. He dumped Eliza Matthews in the most public space to create maximum hysteria. He knows these roads and these fields. He might have a connection to Riverside or he might have just been passing through during the phone call.”
“Cromwell told me that barn out in Silkin Way was abandoned a couple of years ago. Only a local would know that.”
“Noted,” Ella said. “The next thing that’s bugging me is why he’s mimicked a solved crime this time. Cheri Jo Bates and Elizabeth Short were both killed in California. Tobias’s crimes took place in Chicago. As hard as I try, I don’t see a connection at all. Did Tobias have links to California?”
“No. No traces of him on the west coast at all.”
Ella studied the information on the board. “Then I don’t get it. This is an anomaly.”
“What if he just read about Tobias in the news? He’s been on every front page for weeks now.”
“Could be. We’ll have to come back to it.”
“And Night Crawler? What the hell is that about?” Ripley asked.
Ella had played the song over and over in her head for the past hour but couldn’t see how it connected. “Intimidation?” she asked.
“He purposely burned that song onto a CD. There are no other tracks on there, according to Cromwell.”
“Forensics are going through the barn now, aren’t they?”
“They are. We’re going to send the CD to the tech analysts at HQ. They might be able to find out where it came from,” said Ripley.
A silhouette passed the glass of their office. The door opened and Chief Cromwell stepped in holding a large box.
“Got this for you,” he said. He laid the box down and pulled out a curled-up rope wrapped in a plastic sheet.
“The noose?” Ella asked.
Ripley took it and laid it out on the desk. Ella admired her willingness to get so close to something that only an hour ago froze her to the core.
“Thanks Cromwell. I want to see how far this guy has gone to mimic Tobias.”
Tobias left little messages on the nooses he used. He scrawled a heart on one of them and his initials on another. They were middle fingers to the detectives, or more accurately, Ripley. Little taunts that showed he could hint at his identity and still escape justice.
Ripley ran her finger over the rope from top to bottom. She picked it over and inspected the other side, arriving at the noose end. She froze, looked away, and sighed.
“Anything?”
“Yes,” Ripley nodded. “Look at this.”
Ella peered at the noose. Their killer had scratched the letters T.C. into the rough surface.
“Christ. He’s paid attention to detail.”
“Yes he has, and that means we have to as well,” Ripley said. “Grab your laptop, Dark. We’ve got some searching to do.”
