turned, her face almost colliding with his. She was excited about the new information and knew he was, too, but as their gazes held, something deep inside her heated and she momentarily lost her train of thought. Recovering quickly, she asked, “Did you notice that there was about four months between each of the murders?”
“Yeah, I’ve sketched out a timeline.” He showed her a piece of graph paper where he’d written down the months and marked the date of each murder with a star.
Marina glanced at her watch. It was only a quarter to eight. She worked to keep the note of censure out of her voice. “You’ve been at this awhile.”
“Yeah. I really want to catch this killer and I’ve got a lot riding on it.” Reed rubbed his eyes absently with the sides of his forefingers. “I woke up early this morning thinking about it and decided that I might as well get in here early. We’re going to find this killer, whoever he is.”
“Yes, we are.” Marina inserted her laptop into the docking station. She liked to be first in everything and on a team she drove herself to do her share or more. Right now it looked as if she would have to start getting into the office a little earlier if she wanted to keep up with Reed. “How long before we get the hard copy of the rest of the file?”
Reed stood, tall and broad-shouldered in a deep blue shirt and navy slacks. “It should be ready. I’ll go get it right away.”
Marina’s gaze strayed and she noticed the way the slacks covered his nicely shaped butt and hinted at muscular thighs. Reed had always been something of a contender in the eye-candy department. He had nice, big shoulders and an easygoing walk that radiated confidence. Gritting her teeth, she headed to the coffee area with a big cup. Did he have to look so good this early in the morning?
Together, Marina and Reed studied the details in Aubrey Russell’s file. She’d braced herself for what she’d see in the pictures, but her stomach still bucked and her throat froze. Somehow she managed to maintain her dignity. Russell had been stabbed in the chest and abdomen, like the others. He’d also been unmanned, the severed organ left close to the body.
Giving Reed the pictures, she pulled out another section of the file to study. “We need to get down to MUC to get their records,” she told him.
He nodded. “I’ve been thinking the same thing and I put in for a warrant, but we still don’t know what we’re looking for. Maybe we should talk to Washington’s friends and family first, and see what’s been dug up in the investigation? We need more to go on.”
Marina glanced at her spreadsheet and agreed that they still knew too little about the victims and the things they had in common. “Has Forensics got enough to give us some preliminary findings?”
Reed checked his watch. “SaintCloud, the forensic specialist assigned to us, said we could come by after nine and he’d be ready.”
Reed led Marina through the glass doors of the Forensic Sciences department. Eric SaintCloud was a wiry, intense man of about thirty-five with dark hair and piercing gray eyes. His gaze was steady as he shook Marina’s hand firmly. He directed them into his lab area where he’d set up most of the work he’d done so far.
Going through his analysis of the victim’s wounds, he informed them that the serial killer had used a knife similar to a common steak knife with a serrated edge on all three victims.
“I found something interesting. None of the three victims had defensive wounds on the hands, arms or forearms of their bodies,” Eric said. “Most stab victims have defensive wounds. Preliminary results of blood samples taken from Mr. Washington have been inconclusive, but I suspect that he was drugged. Maybe the others were, too.
“The killer probably used ketamine, a date rape drug, which would have impaired motor function, distorted perceptions of sight and sound, and given him a dreamlike feeling. Washington had been drinking, but he wasn’t drunk. Samples from the glasses at the scene are being analyzed. Alcohol alone would have slowed his reflexes enough for someone to take him by surprise, but I’m betting that an additional drug immobilized him enough for his attacker to repeatedly stab him.”
“How many times?” Marina asked, determined to keep her cool.
“Preliminary count, twenty.” SaintCloud didn’t skip a beat.
Marina blinked, swallowing a curse. There was a lot of anger and rage in twenty stab wounds. She added the information to the profile she’d been building in her head. “What about the other two victims?”
“Twenty to twenty-five times.” SaintCloud turned to remove something from the table. “This was found on Mr. Washington’s body.” He showed them a magnified photo of a blond hair. “It’s from a wig that can be bought in any number of stores in the Chicago area.”
“But that doesn’t mean that our killer has to be a woman,” Marina put in.
“That’s true.” SaintCloud continued, “Some of the stab wounds were to the chest, but most were below the waist on all three victims. Analysis shows that the attacker stood at least five foot eleven.”
Marina nodded. “We need forensics to see if the same knife was used on all the victims, and if the angles and depth of the blows indicate whether we’re looking for a man or a woman.”
“Already working it,” SaintCloud said smugly.
Reed’s head came up. “You don’t think we’re looking for a man? Aren’t most serial killers lower-to middle-class white males?”
“Been doing your homework?” Marina teased, raising an eyebrow.
When Reed merely flashed her a lopsided grin in response, she continued. “Yes, most serial killers are male, but the things that have been done to the bodies could also have been done by a woman who hated men.”
“It’s just less likely,” Reed put in.
Marina agreed. “Maybe these guys knew each other. Maybe they knew their killer, too. Then you probably know that serial killers usually choose victims that are vulnerable. I don’t see anything in the files that shows these guys as being vulnerable in any way.”
Marina left the forensics department with Reed, certain that the evidence supported their initial assumption that all three victims had the same killer. There still wasn’t enough information to determine if the killer was male or female.
By nine Reed and Marina had their notebooks and files and were getting into Reed’s unmarked car, headed for Lissa Rawlins’ place. They didn’t call first because Reed didn’t want to spook Lissa and give her a chance to run.
Apparently remembering their visit yesterday, the guard in the lobby simply nodded when he saw them. They buzzed the condo and a woman’s sleepy voice answered. Reed gave her their names and asked to be let into the condo. As Lissa buzzed them in, Marina glanced at him in surprise. Taking the small success in stride, Reed pretended not to notice.
Lissa Rawlins opened the door to her loft condo and Reed’s first look was enough to make him pause. Lissa was barely dressed in a revealing pair of red baby-doll pajamas and matching red-mink mules. Her double-D-size breasts thrust out like ripe melons. With effort, he focused on her face, made up Marilyn Monroe style. “We can wait for you to put something on,” he suggested carefully.
“I’m
