“That they were almost out of dishwashing soap.”
“Nothing more about you?”
“That was it. They finished up, turned out the downstairs lights. I think they’ve called it a night.” He didn’t want to think about them in bed together doing anything except sleeping. Or even that.
The optimistic Gif said, “Well, you’ve made some progress.”
Mike, ever Eeyore, said, “You’ve only got ten more days to determine whether or not it’s him.”
“It’s him.”
“You want—”
“It’s him, Gif. He smiles, he’s pleasant, but open a vein and ice water would pour out of it. He’s abnormally vigilant. Like last night. It was like he was waiting and watching to see if I would venture onto his property. Who notices when a UPS truck is on the block and where it stops?”
“I do,” said Gif.
Mike snorted with disdain.
Drex continued. “He doesn’t give me access to anything he’s touched.”
“Like what?”
Only now did he share with them the business about the beer bottle. “It was a neighborly gesture, but why would he take back the beer when I hadn’t drunk but half of it? He didn’t want me to have that bottle with his prints on it.”
“But our unsub is a ghost. Nobody has his prints. Nobody even knows who he is. These women up and disappeared, but there’s never been a crime scene.”
“Until Marian Harris’s body was found,” Drex said. “Less than one hundred days ago. That’s bound to have fueled his innate paranoia and put him on edge.”
“But forensics didn’t yield anything.”
“We know that, Gif, but he doesn’t.”
Mike made a grunting sound acknowledging Drex’s point. “That niggling doubt would make him wary of anyone moving in next door.”
“Exactly.”
Gif wasn’t convinced. “I don’t know. That’s all conjecture. We’ve gotta get something solid.”
“I’m aware of that,” Drex said. “Mike, in any of the disappearance cases, was there any evidence with handwriting on it? Not the victim’s. Not a named someone’s. Handwriting that investigators never attached to a specific person. Could be anything. A note, shopping list, receipt. Anything.”
“I’ll have to check it out.”
“Do. I asked Jasper for a list of recommended restaurants. He told me he’d jot some down. He—Hold on. What the hell’s this?”
“What?” Gif had needlessly lowered his voice to a whisper.
“While we’ve been talking, I’ve been trying out my new binoculars. Jasper just walked into their kitchen.”
“A midnight snack,” Mike said.
“In the dark?” Drex said. “He hasn’t turned on any lights. He’s using his phone’s flashlight.”
“That’s weird.”
“Maybe not,” Drex said.
“Why? What’s he doing?”