Page 25 of All He Takes
And it had never been found, to this day.
Nicky remembered it so clearly, too. The make… the build… but it had been no help. There were simply too many of them in America—in the world—and without a plate, it was impossible to narrow down who could’ve taken them. Nicky would love to take a look again, with the resources of the FBI behind her, but of course, she didn’t have permission to do that yet.
If she could get Felix to talk, or get information out of him, then she would have something, though. She had to have something.
Nerves tore through her. No... she couldn't think like that. She had to stay resolute. For the victims. And for Rosie.
Nicky began to pace again, even as Ken arrived with two cups of coffee. "I know you said you didn't want one," he said, "but I got you one anyway."
"Thanks, Ken." Nicky took the cup and sipped it, feeling the warm liquid flow down her throat. It was strong and bitter, but it was comforting to have. "I just talked to Grace," she said. "She's going to try to recover any traffic footage from around Miami, around the time Paris went missing."
"And she can do that?"
"If she can't, I don't know who can," Nicky said. Her footsteps slowed to a halt, and she turned to face Ken. "I just don't know what else we can do to track this guy. There's no forensic data on the photographs. And we still don't even know where the bodies are."
"True," Ken said. "He could've put those girls anywhere."
Nicky sat back down at the table and pulled out the files, taking out the print-offs of the Polaroid photos. She looked at them closely, for any identifying mark in the background, but it was completely non-descript. It looked to be a basement of some kind, with concrete flooring. In the background of one photo, she could see a vintage floral couch. On the photo with the chair, the girl was sitting, slumped, on another vintage-style chair.
"He seems to have old furniture," Nicky noted.
Ken sat down next to her with his coffee, looking over the photos. "Yeah, they don't make them like that anymore."
"And he dropped the photos in an antique store," Nicky said.
"So, what," Ken began, "You think we're looking for an antique fanatic?"
"Maybe," Nicky said. "Or an older person, who was alive when this style was popular." She shook her head. "I don't know. It's just a theory."
"You could be onto something," Ken said. "The Polaroid photo--that's a vintage thing too."
Nicky allowed her mind to wander, building up a profile of this person in her mind. They knew he had an affinity for photography. For vintage photography, at that, and vintage furniture. He obviously wanted his photographs to be seen, as he came in and planted them himself.
That meant he was confident--he didn't want to spend the rest of his life in prison. But he was also meticulous, as he'd driven all across Florida to do this.
"It's hard to believe he's just some random guy," Ken said. "That he just happened to carry a camera and decided to take these photos. He's obviously the type of person who would have been wanting to do something like this for a long time. Someone doesn't just wake up and become this."
Nicky nodded, sitting back, her mind whirring. Talking to Ken was helping her to work it out in her mind. "I know," she said. "I was thinking about the same thing. Like he wants to be seen. But something about it seems off. We know that these girls didn't know each other, that they'd never met. The victims are from completely different parts of the state. And the murders appear to be completely random. And the photographs..." She took a breath, unsure where her mind was leading her. She was onto something--she just wasn't sure what yet.
Just then, Nicky's phone rang. She snatched it off the table, but it was an unknown number.
"This is Agent Lyons," Nicky said into the phone.
"Agent Lyons? This is Officer Green with the Cedar Bay PD--I was given your contact information by Chief Gammage of the Pine Grove PD."
Nicky's heart picked up. "Yes, that's right. Can I help you?"
"I was told to call you personally if we found any evidence of any disturbing photographs in our town," he said, and Nicky's eyes flashed to Ken. He mirrored her expression.
"Did you find some?" she asked, her heart in her throat.
"Actually, we did," he said. "We found a photo of what appears to be a female homicide victim in an antique store here in our town."
Nicky stood up, clutching the phone so tightly she thought the plastic might crack. "What antique store?" she asked.
"It's called Olden's Antiques," he said, "right here in Cedar Bay."
Nicky froze, and then started to breathe rapidly. "Where in the store? Where exactly?"
