I ignored Slidell’s sarcasm. “Koseluk was abducted in Kannapolis, Estrada in Salisbury. Both lie along the I-85 corridor.”
Tinker looked at me with his flat little eyes. Swallowed. “I’m having a hard time putting those two in the show.”
“Leal was found under I-485,” I added.
“Amelogenin says she’s not in there, either.”
“Not necessarily.”
Tinker did something that combined a shrug with a “Give it to me” finger curl.
“Pomerleau could have an accomplice. Or—”
Slidell cut me off, voice dripping with scorn as he addressed Tinker. “Low number of vics make it easier to tie the bow? Buff up the image?”
“Or perhaps you’re projecting, Detective. Talking about yourself,” shot back Tinker.
I feared the smart-ass tone would goad Slidell to smash Tinker’s plate up into his face, Stooges-style. I glanced at Skinny. His lower lids were crimped and twitching, sparkling grease coating his upper lip and chin.
“What the fuck are you talking about?” Now Slidell was the recipient of Tinker’s flat-eyed stare. For a moment their gazes locked. Skinny turned away first. “That’s it. I ain’t working with this troll.” Wrapping his poultry in a napkin, Slidell strode from the room.
Tinker finished eating, wiped his hands digit by digit, and returned to his map.
I raised my brows at Ryan. He raised his at me.
I pointed at the chicken.
Ryan shook his head.
Realizing I’d never answered Slidell’s question about a cellphone for Nance, I asked Ryan if he’d come across any mention of one in the file. He had not.
While clearing the lunch debris, I told Ryan about our flight reservations. He hesitated a moment, then thanked me. Asked how much time we had. I suggested we leave the LEC by six. He nodded, grabbed his phone, and started punching digits.
Ryan hadn’t been back to Montreal since Lily’s death. I wondered what storm was swirling inside him. Didn’t ask.
After positioning one of the empty boards between Nance and Koseluk, I pulled the ME107-10 file from my purse and began posting information. Biological profile. Estimated time of death. Date of discovery. Location. Scene photos of the skeleton and associated articles.
Tinker abandoned his pushpins to eyeball my display. Which was meager. “Seriously?”
“Clothing was still in place on some of the bone clusters. Missing articles were probably dragged off by scavengers.”
Tinker nodded, noncommittal.
“A lot fits the pattern.”
“Where was this kid?”
I showed Tinker on his map. He stuck in a yellow pin, indulging me.
It took a moment to decipher his coding system. Green marked the intersection where Nance was last seen alive, red the place her body was found. Stoplight colors for a murder solidly connected to another by DNA.
Blue indicated LSA sites for girls “not in the show,” yellow the places Estrada and Leal were found.
The rainbow pins flowed north along I-85, circled Charlotte on the I-485 beltway, and dropped south toward the South Carolina border. One red and two blue pins marked inner-city locations.
One yellow pin sat off to the southeast by itself.
Tinker read my thoughts. “Estrada’s body wasn’t anywhere near I-85.”
“It wasn’t far from NC-52.” I studied the configuration, willing a pattern to make itself known. “Estrada was at a campground near the Pee Dee National Wildlife Refuge. Nance was at Latta Plantation.” I was juggling aloud, twisting and turning pieces to make them connect. “ME107-10, my Jane Doe, was at the Daniel Stowe Botanical Garden. Gower was at a quarry.”
“Break out the champagne. We got us a nature lover.”
Smiling coolly at Tinker’s smarmy cynicism, I resumed posting ME107-10.
We worked the next couple of hours without saying much. After finishing my Jane Doe board, I began with the other girl about whom we knew almost nothing.