Page 7 of Killer Knows Best

“This is a massacre,” I mutter, taking a deep breath as I try to steady myself.

“Geez,” Nikki whispers as she takes it all in. “It’s worse than I thought. And I have a pretty wild imagination.”

It’s cold. The AC is blasting, probably to slow down the decomposition, but the room still reeks of death. The bed is a mess of red and white, the sheets soaked through. And in the center of it all are the girls. Their faces are pale, almost peaceful, if not for the gruesome gashes across their bodies.

Hale grunts, “There’s a phone near each of them, and they both have purses brimming with IDs. As soon as we finish up with the photo shoot, CSI will take their possessions to the lab. Nikki, you can have the phones come morning.” Hale shines his flashlight over the blonde’s face. “Left cheek.”

“What is it?” Nikki juts her head as she leans in to inspect it.

“An infinity symbol,” Jack says. “That’s what the other two had.”

“Yes.” Hale nods. “We’ll go over the other victims in the morning.” His light sweeps across to the brunette and lands on her right arm where the same symbol decorates her flesh, bigger and deeper this time as if the killer took twice as long to drive their point home.

Jack glances out the window at the parking lot below. “Someone took their time plotting this.”

Hale nods down at the bodies. “And they took their time making sure those marks were clean.”

“Clean?” I raise a brow as I inspect the elongated symbol on the brunette’s arm. “That’s one way to put it.”

I crouch down next to Nikki, examining the lazy figure eights. Each one is deliberate, precise, and almost surgical in their placement.

There doesn’t look to be any hesitation with these slashes. And despite the chaotic frenzy that occurred, it’s clear this was methodical and planned.

“CSI found blood in the sink,” Hale says. “We’ll know whose soon enough. Looks as if they washed up before they left.”

“The killer stopped to wash their hands?” I muse. “Looks as if we’ve got a hygienic killer on the loose.”

Jack glances at the doorway. “Someone had to see something. The security cameras?—”

“We’re pulling all the footage,” Hale says, crossing his arms. “We should have it within minutes. They can’t be invisible.”

We move through the room, taking in every detail. The overturned lamp on the nightstand. The empty glasses on the table. The door to the bathroom slightly ajar, water on the sink as if someone had been there just moments before. And they had.

“I’m going to need one long shower after this,” Nikki says, standing up and brushing off her pants.

“Good luck with that,” Jack says. “We’ve got another twelve hours of paperwork ahead of us.”

Hale grunts, “And that’s if we’re lucky.”

I glance back at the bodies as my mind races through the possibilities. The markings are the key. They’re the killer’s signature. It could be a message or a ritual. Probably both.

Why these girls?

Jack catches my eye. “What do you think?”

I shake my head. “I think we’re just getting started.”

5

SPECIAL AGENT FALLON BAXTER

Irub my eyes and stretch my arms, feeling the weight of the night—or wee hours of the morning—bear down on me. This feels like a new level of exhaustion, one that coffee can’t touch, but we’re not leaving until we have something more concrete than a shadow in a ski mask.

On our way back to the field office, Jack stopped off and picked up a stack of pizzas, a few of which he dropped off to the guys in CSI, the rest were for us, and one each for Jack and Buddy. For as much as I take care of Buddy, he sure abandons his post by my side in a hurry once Jack shows up. But then, Jack rarely shows up without something delicious to tempt Buddy with.

I’ll admit, that Pavlovian response works with me, too. Despite the grim circumstances surrounding our newest case, the pizza is delicious.

Nikki sits across from me and Jack is to my left, with our Special Agent in Charge, Hale, taking the helm.

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