Her fingers tightened around the instrument.
“A woman who worked at the pharmacy, Sarah Finway. The guy’s blood is here, but he’s not and neither is she.”
Her heart thundered in her chest. “We can use his blood for DNA. If he’s in the system, we’ll have an ID.”
“But we won’t have her.” Frustration boiled in Thomas’s voice. “The guy knows this area. He’ll stash her, and then he’ll kill her, all while we’re running down DNA.”
Thomas wasn’t used to this part of the business. EOD agents were men and women of action. They didn’t run DNA checks. They didn’t stalk after criminals. They went in. They attacked. They completed their missions.
And Thomas was right. By the time they got a DNA hit on the perp, Sarah Finway could be dead.
“I’m going to keep searching with Aaron. If we find anything, I’ll call you.”
“He knows this area. Be careful because you don’t want to walk into another of his traps.”
“I want to find the guy,” Thomas fired back. “If he wants to hunt someone, if that’s the way he likes to play, then he needs to come hunt me, not some innocent civilian.”
When the call ended, Noelle kept holding the phone and staring at those pictures. “I need to talk with the sheriff,” she said, not looking over her shoulder at Mercer. “And then I want to head back to the senator’s place and talk with Paula Quill.” Because Paula had been the senator’s confidant. If there had been someone in and out of the senator’s life for the past fifteen years, then Paula should know.
Mercer’s footsteps padded out of the office. She knew he’d pull the sheriff in, one way or another. No one said no to Mercer. At least, not for long.
She put the phone down on the desk and let her gaze trek from image to image. They’d gotten names for the girls. Dates of their disappearances. She’d put the images in order based on those dates, and her focus shifted to the first girl who’d vanished.
Emma Jane Rogers. Age sixteen. She’d lived in Charleston.
“The first kill is the one that matters most,” Noelle whispered as she leaned toward the image. There had to be something in the picture that could help her. Why had the killer begun with Emma Jane? Why her?
Had all of the others girl
s been taken because they looked like Emma?
Her finger pressed against the photograph. Emma Jane was wearing a necklace. They’d blown up the photo, and Noelle could see it appeared to be half of a heart. The kind of necklace young couples often wore. The girl would have one part, and the boy would have the other.
There were two images of Emma Jane. In one of the images, that necklace around her neck was clear.
In the other image, it was gone. Blood dripped over her neck, as if she’d been sliced with a knife.
As if someone had sliced the necklace off her?
Noelle quickly checked the other snapshots. None of the others were wearing any sort of jewelry. Their necks also didn’t show any signs of having been cut. There were no injuries on those girls in the other photos at all.
These are the before shots.
Were there after shots someplace? Images that showed what had happened to the girls after the hunt was complete?
Noelle knew that there must be.
“Here’s the sheriff.”
Noelle turned at Mercer’s flat words. He had a tight grip on the sheriff’s arm. Hodges was glaring at him.
“I was in the middle of a briefing with my men!” Hodges sputtered. “You don’t just drag a sheriff away—”
Mercer laughed. “I drag anyone away.” He pointed toward Noelle. “Now, answer her questions because if anyone can figure out this guy, it’s her.”
She already had puzzle pieces flying through her mind. “He’s a local, Sheriff. Someone who knows this area extremely well. He’d keep to himself. He’s a male...probably in his late thirties, close to Senator Duncan’s age. He’s ex-navy, so he might be sporting some tattoos that he got during the service.”
Hodges shook his head. “This is a town of barely a thousand people. I know everyone.”