Page 11 of Investigate Away
“Well, duh, we both came to that conclusion at the crime scene,” he said with a little more sarcasm than was warranted.
“The Trinket Killer has a type. Women with—”
“Tell me something I don’t know, or leave,” he said with a dark tone. One of the reasons he couldn’t sleep more than an hour or two was because his dreams were haunted with visions of someone murdering Callie. A nightmare he couldn’t escape until the Trinket Killer was caught.
Only the bastard had to strike again for that to happen, and it had been a year.
“The crime scene changed subtly three times over the course of twelve murders. The first time had been at murder six when he went from gold to silver trinkets. But I also found that other than my sister, those last victims either wore contacts or glasses. The other victims didn’t.”
He opened his mouth but snapped it shut. It was an interesting point, one that had been overlooked and could speak to victimology.
“Another pattern I started to notice was height. While all relatively tall and slender, the first girls were all over five six, and some could be a little more curvy than others with larger breasts and all had implants, which was noted but tossed when the trinkets changed.”
“It didn’t appear relevant at the time, considering I had dead bodies piling up, and some had implants and others didn’t. All we knew was pretty young blond women who were professionals.”
“Well, the latter victims were closer to five foot five with small breasts, except my sister. My sister didn’t fit the current MO. So, either something changed with the Trinket Killer, or my sister stepped in the killer’s way.”
“Or both,” he said with an arched brow. “This is not earth-shattering information.”
She pulled out a piece of paper and shoved it in his face. “Do the math, something I didn’t even think about a year ago because it wouldn’t have made sense to.”
He held the timeline of victims and their deaths with all the information she just spewed in his hands. “What the fuck am I looking at, Callie?”
“Victim number six literally happened the night we ran into each other at McCurdy’s. The first night we slept together.”
“I remember the night, not the day of the week or month.” He scratched the side of his head. “And so?”
“I never told you this, but the Trinket Killer contacted me.”
He let go of the door handle. His jaw slacked open. “Jesus, Callie. You were fucking the lead detective on the case, and you just don’t think to tell him, oh, by the way, I spoke to the killer the other day.”
“It wasn’t like that, and I didn’t actually speak to the killer, but he left me a couple of notes. They are in the book in the last chapter.”
“He contacted you more than once?”
“The first time was after his ninth murder, and the note said:this one’s for him.At first, I didn’t know it was from the killer or what it even meant until he did it again with the next two murders.”
“You should have told me,” he said. “Those notes could have had prints.”
“I had an independent lab—”
“Save the justification. I’m not even sure why I’m standing here listening because I’m not a detective anymore. I’m the chief of police of a very small town where stopping someone for running a red light is the most thrilling part of my day.”
She set her purse on the desk and pulled out a plastic envelope. “Okay. Then this will be in your jurisdiction.”
“What is it?”
“A note from the Trinket Killer that was left in front of my door at the Saratoga Inn this morning.”
3
Callie sat in the living room of the Saratoga Inn, hugging her purse. She stared out the big picture window at the slight drizzle misting from the sky. The thin fog rolled through the hills and out to the sound.
“Here you go.” Kara handed her a Diet Coke before sitting in the chair next to her. “What exactly did the note say?”
“Welcome back, Callie. I’ve got a trinket or two for you. Let the games begin.” Callie shivered.
“I wish you would have called me the second you found the note.”
