“Right. I know that.” He glances around, as if looking for something, or someone.
I realize then that he’s pretty much on his own, and a swell of shame slams into me. I’m used to working by myself. I prefer it that way, actually. Carson, on the other hand, has probably never had to head up a crime scene on his own. And with Quinn out for blood, having been not-so-gently removed from the case, Carson most likely feels a lot of pressure not to fuck this up.
“Hey.” When he turns my way, I lighten my tone. “I do think the chances of this being the same suspect, or suspects, is good. Better than good.” I eye my coat. “Though I can’t say this with any degree of certainty…with this level of overkill, the perp is likely a sadist. Possibly even of the psychopathic variety.”
Maybe Sadie should be called in. As a high-functioning sociopath herself, Sadie would have perfect insight into this assailant’s profile. A twinge of guilt nudges my conscience. The traits that help her identify psychopaths are also the attributes that helped her eradicate my abductor.
Carson watches me closely, and I add, “The offender either caught the vic by surprise, a blitz attack, or she was drugged. Possibly a combination of both. She has no defensive wounds.” I glance down, sickened. “But then again, I may find some deep tissue bruising once I examine her.”
“Noted,” he says, literally noting my inferior guesswork down in his black notepad.
“This may be part of the scheme, throwing us off their scent, but the handiwork looks like one of a sexual sadist. Or at least, that’s what he wants us to think. And if I had to make an educated guess as to the reasoning behind the brutal torture compared to the first two vics… More than the fact that he or they did enjoy their work, I’d wager the second part was misdirection.”
His eyebrows draw together over his youthful features. “Misdirection? From what?”
I press my lips together, considering the real threat. While my colleagues are busy trying to protect me, no one is focusing on what’s being hidden. “If we’re chasing a killer, we’re chasing ghosts.” At his confused expression, I say, “We need to be chasing the living. The women that are still alive.”
Understanding dawns, and he nods his head slowly. “This is the part I’m purposely being kept in the dark about.”
A stab of shame pierces my chest. I don’t know how much to reveal, how much to involve Carson, now that Quinn is no longer leading the case. “I’m sure you’ll be brought up to speed soon,” I say, trying and failing to encourage him.
“It’s all right.” He stands, brushing his hands down his slacks. “I made my bed. Guess I’ll have to lie in it until I can prove myself.”
Confusion forces me to my feet, questions as heavy as lead on the tip of my tongue. Before I’m able to voice them, Carson’s attention is pulled toward another detective storming the scene.
“Phillips, where have you been? What do you got?” Carson fires off as the detective approaches.
The detective is momentarily distracted by the sight of the body. His dark features contort. “Jesus,” he says.
I pack away the samples and my kit; I’ve done all I can here. I try not to think about the transport van that will soon be arriving. Just get back to the lab and focus on work.
“The FBI have been called in,” Phillips announces, triggering both Carson and me to swap glances.
“Yeah, that was expected,” Carson says, recovering quickly.
We knew Sadie would be reaching out to Special Agent Rollins. But really, this is a rather rapid response—considering it was only a fishing expedition on her part. The Alpha Omega crime ring is believed to be an urban legend within the criminal justice departments. I assumed Agent Rollins would blow off her inquiry.
“Expected? The FBI taking over was expected?” Phillips glares at Carson. “And were the two other bodies expected, too?”
A cold sensation prickles my skin, encasing me in sick dread.
Carson is already calling in to the precinct. “Captain—” He’s cut off, and all I can do is hold my breath, awaiting to hear my fears confirmed.
The other women.
Detective Phillips sidles up beside me, his tall and stocky presence a shield against the biting wind.
“Who was called in?” I ask him. Sadie’s call to Special Agent Rollins couldn’t have done all this. Not when I heard it was Special Agent Proctor leading the charge on the last case.
His sigh is heavy. “Organized Crime Division.” His dark eyebrows hike. “How’s that for fucked irony? Pardon my French, but the other reports didn’t even make it to us. The damn FBI intercepted them first. Big Brother politics.” He shakes his head.
I turn toward him, while still trying to hear pieces of Carson’s conversation. “What report was intercepted?”
He leans in, lowers his voice. “This wasn’t the main attraction.” He nods toward the victim. “The captain put us on this scene while the FBI took over the others. Probably to keep any link among them out of the press.”
A sinking feeling burrows beneath my feet, like crashing waves dragging me into sand. And when Carson mutters into his phone and ends the call, I know before he even finds my eyes.
“It’s official,” Carson says. “The case has just been upgraded to a serial killer hunt. Sorry, Avery. Looks like we’re chasing those ghosts.”