“Oh God,” Rafe murmured. “Trish.”
Gideon had nearly forgotten that the Sokolovs had befriended the woman. But he was abruptly paying no attention to anything except the pattern of stab wounds on her lower torso. “He marked her,” he said, leaning in for a closer look.
The stab wounds in her upper torso were random slashes, but those in her lower abdomen were in the shape of the letters “S” and “Y.”
Erin, too, had leaned in closer and now looked up with a frown. “‘SY’? What does that mean?”
“I don’t know,” Gideon said. “But I’m betting he’s done this before.”
“Very precise cuts,” Dr. Sifuentes agreed. “No hesitation on the lower abdominal wounds.”
The stabs and slices that formed the letters were more like puncture wounds, stylized with curly ends and cuts that looked like asterisks in between and around.
“‘They all do,’” Rafe said quietly, and they stood quietly, staring down at the letters that appeared to have taken an inordinately long time to create.
“I can run a search in the Bureau database,” Gideon said, “to see if there are other cases of victims found with these letters carved into their torsos.”
“We’ll do the same,” Erin said. “Is there anything more, Dr. Sifuentes?”
“Not visibly,” he said sadly. “She’ll have to tell us any other details during the examination.”
“We found a butcher knife in her dish drainer,” Erin told Sifuentes. “Could that have made both sets of wounds?”
“It’s certainly possible that a butcher knife made the lower torso stab wounds,” Sifuentes said. “But I assume he’d need a smaller knife for the letters. It would have been awkward to use the butcher knife in such a fashion. But I can’t categorically say.”
“There was a smaller knife in the knife block,” Erin said, “but it didn’t seem to have been used. Perhaps he brought a finer blade with him along with the bleach.”
Sifuentes’s forehead bunched above his goggles. “I’m sorry. I wish I could give you the answer you want.”
“We’d rather get the right answer,” Erin told him with a wistful smile.
“Thank you for calling us in,” Rafe said, taking a final look at Trish’s body before Sifuentes pulled up the sheet. “Let’s take our discussion outside.”
Gideon had to agree. The autopsy suite always made him slightly ill. He couldn’t imagine what Rafe was feeling at the moment, having known Trish.
Gideon knew what he was feeling, just imagining Daisy’s body with all those stab wounds. If she hadn’t gotten away . . .
Stop. You can’t think like that or you’re no good to her or anyone.
If only it was that easy.
The three of them left the morgue, each of them drawing a deep breath of the crisp outside air. “You okay?” Rafe asked him. “You’re looking a little green.”
“I’m fine,” Gideon lied. “I don’t see the morgue every day,” he added truthfully. “I’m a linguist.”
“Nor do you have to imagine those wounds every day on someone special,” Rafe murmured, ignoring his deflection. “I get it, Gid.”
“We need to get back to the scene,” Erin said. “I want to finish interviewing all the neighbors to see if anyone saw anything last night. We’ve got Latent taking prints. As for the knife, it was washed and bleached, but I’m hoping we’ll get something off it that we can use. Some nook or cranny that he missed, assuming that was the murder weapon.”
Gideon nodded. “It might have been the murder weapon, but I’ll lay down cash that he has another blade he used for the letters, one that he brought with him and took away. He’s done the letters before. He showed no hesitation. He trusted his tools.”
“I agree,” Rafe said. “So we look for similar cases.”
“Agreed,” Erin said with a hard nod. “Where are you headed, Gideon?”
“Back to the Sokolovs’ to pick up Daisy and then we’re heading up to Redding to, hopefully, track down Eileen. Tracing Eileen’s steps since her escape is going to be key to finding Eden.”
Rafe nodded. “Because you were left in Redding. Good thinking.”
“I hope so. I’ve got to call my boss with an update. I’ll also ask for a review of the database, looking for similar MOs.”
He was going into this assuming that they’d find something, because the bastard had been cocky enough to leave them a clue. He must have believed he was safe from discovery.
He’ll discover that he’s wrong.
GRANITE BAY, CALIFORNIA
SATURDAY, FEBRUARY 18, 8:10 P.M.
He was pretty damn proud of himself. It hadn’t been easy, but he’d managed it. He’d followed Agent Reynolds’s black Toyota all the way from the coroner’s office to Granite Bay—with a detour to both a home and a drugstore in Rocklin—without once garnering the agent’s notice.
The bonus was, now he knew where Reynolds lived, too.
Reynolds had parked in the driveway of one of the massive houses that were commonplace in Granite Bay. This one, however, had a lived-in look to it. There was a basketball hoop over the garage and whimsical gnomes hiding in the garden. A flag with Valentine hearts fluttered on a pole attached to a porch pillar.
Reynolds had walked in the door like he lived there.
As for who did live there, all it had taken was a quick search of the address to see that it was the residence of the Sokolov family. The first names were all a single initial followed by a string of asterisks—specifically K***** and I*****, who were both in their fifties, and one Z*****, who was only seventeen. But first names didn’t matter because a search on Sokolov immediately produced their connection to Daisy Dawson.
Karl Sokolov owned KZAU, the radio station where Daisy worked. And now, there was every indication that Daisy was inside the house.
He settled into his seat to wait. The Fed had to come out sooner or later.
SIXTEEN
COTTONWOOD, CALIFORNIA
SATURDAY, FEBRUARY 18, 10:55 P.M.
Gideon glanced in the rearview mirror. The car was still back there. It appeared to be a Chevy sedan, based on the headlight configuration. He’d yet to get behind the car because every time he slowed, the car did as well.
It could merely be a cautious driver. Or a driver who used others to keep their pace. Driving slower than the traffic pack leader was a strategy some used to avoid tickets on the interstate.
“I have to be home by seven tomorrow night,” Daisy murmured from the passenger seat.
Gideon glanced over at her, surprised she was awake. She hadn’t said a word since he’d picked her up at Karl and Irina’s house, except to confirm she still wished to make the trip to Redding with him. At first she’d sat silently, petting poor Brutus bald. And then he thought she’d fallen asleep when she leaned her head against the car window, but now he realized she must have just been staring out the window.
He could have left her at the Sokolovs’. He knew that they’d keep her as safe as he could. But he’d wanted her with him because he thought it was better to get her away from the city. Away from the reporters and the story of Trish’s murder, which was now front and center at every media outlet in town.
Mostly, though, he wanted her with him because he needed her. He needed the sound of her husky voice and the smell of her hair to calm him. To keep his mind from playing the reel of Trish’s body, except with Daisy lying there. Dead.
Daisy is alive. He kept telling himself that. Kept drawing her scent into his head.
“Why seven tomorrow night?” he asked.
“My father’s coming.” Her phone glowed in the darkness as she turned it on to check. “He texted me that he’s arriving at six thirty tomorrow night. Karl said he’d pick him up at the airport, but I don’t want to keep Dad waiting since he’s coming to see me.”
Well, okay. “Are you all right with him coming?”
From the corner of his eye he saw her nod slowly, like she was running at a slower speed than normal. “I asked him to come.” She was quiet for a very long moment. “I’m going to have to plan Trish’s funeral and I’ve never done that before.”
“I understand,” he said softly.
She shrugged. “I know Irina and Karl could have helped me.”
He was thinking that. “Or me.”
She swallowed hard. “I still need you,” she whispered.
His heart swelled at that, and she looked at him with warmth in her eyes. “Good.”
“My dad . . . takes over. But he loves me. And Trish never had that. I . . . just needed him,” she finished, sounding almost apologetic.
“You don’t have to apologize for anything, Daisy.” He reached for her hand, bringing it to his lips for a kiss before lowering it to the center console. He was relieved to find her skin warm, not clammy. She’d been stroking Brutus almost manically up until he’d arrived. That tidbit had been shared by Irina, who’d given him an I-told-you-so look after telling him that Daisy had visibly calmed every time he’d called her on the phone.
Gideon hadn’t minded Irina’s smugness one bit.