My God, what he did to those kids.
He was surprised Rowan had turned out normal. Someone else would be locked away in a mental hospital. Or in prison because they’d learned to hurt others.
His phone rang and he immediately grabbed it, desperate for a distraction from the horrors he was reading about.
“Bolton.”
“This is Detective Jason Glass with the Shasta County sheriff’s office. You’re handling a Jane Doe found two days ago in Deschutes County, correct?”
Evan pushed Sam Durette’s notes away. “I am. You’re with Shasta County as in Northern California?”
“I am. I’ve been handling a case of a seventeen-year-old runaway who vanished five months ago. Jillian Francis. Her basic description matches your Jane Doe.”
“Which parts of the description?”
“Five foot five, one-twenty-five, blonde hair, green eyes.”
“That lines up.”
“Hair might be dyed a hot pink in places.”
“No, don’t have that. But you said it’d been five months. Any distinguishing marks?” Evan held his breath.
“Two tattoos. A yin-yang on her neck and a daisy—”
“On her ankle.”
The line went silent for a long moment. “Shit. This isn’t how I wanted to find her.”
“What’s the story?”
“Fight with the parents. Took off. A witness claims they saw her get in an eighteen-wheeler at a rest stop. Said the pink hair caught their notice and that she seemed quite young.”
“And somehow she ended up in Oregon. Do you have dental records?”
“I sent them to your email two seconds ago. Along with photos of Jillian and her tattoos.”
Evan made a few clicks with his mouse and a moment later was studying a school photo of a blonde girl. “How old is this school photo?”
“A year ago. She was to start her senior year of high school this month.”
Evan tried to see the girl’s face in his memory of the Jane Doe. Maybe. “Gotta tell ya, she’d been dead about a week when we found her. Visually I can’t make an ID.”
“Understood. But the tattoos are clear?”
Evan opened the photos of the tattoos and immediately recognized the daisy, even though it had been distorted on the autopsy table. “I saw the daisy. It’s a match. I didn’t personally see the yin-yang because of her position during the autopsy, but I know it’s in the photos from the report. I assume you want a dental comparison before notifying the family?”
“I want it, but this family wants to be told if the tattoos match up. That’s proof enough for them. Frankly, for me too, but we’ll move forward with the dental. Do you know what happened?”
Evan hesitated to tell the detective that Jillian might have been a victim of a serial killer. He had no proof. Just two other nearly identical dead women several weeks apart. “Not sure. She was found in a remote part of the Cascade Range by a hiker. Nude. Strangled. Half in a creek.”
“Dammit.”
“Detective.” Evan paused. “There might be more to it. It’s a theory I’m pursuing, but at the moment that’s all it is: a theory. I hesitate to even share it with you.”
“Understood. Go ahead. You have my discretion.”
“Jillian is the third woman that’s been dumped in the county in the last six weeks. All nude. Strangled. Blonde and young. One was a runaway living on the streets of Portland. The other took off after a fight with her boyfriend. The dumping locations are spread out, but I can’t ignore the commonalities.”
“You don’t have a theory; you have a serial killer.” The detective let out a string of curses. “Where is he collecting these girls?”
“I don’t know yet.” Evan grimaced, knowing the other detective was right. He didn’t like to jump to conclusions, but after hearing Jillian’s age and how she’d disappeared, these killings pointed at a possible single killer.
“Have you contacted the FBI?”
“I’ll do it right after I finish talking to you. There is a definite pattern now. Even how the girls all had left their home base and possibly needed a place to stay.”
“I need to contact the parents. Do you have images of the tattoos I can show them?”
“Yes.” Evan tucked the phone between his cheek and shoulder to use his keyboard. “I’ll get them right over to you.”
“Appreciate it. It’s not going to be an easy evening in the Francis home.”
“It’s not. Good luck.”
The detective ended the call.
Evan leaned back in his chair. His victim was no longer the river woman; she was Jillian Francis.
And it appeared he had a serial killer in his county.
“Fuck!” He grabbed the phone again, pulling up Mercy Kilpatrick’s cell number. Voice mail. “Mercy, it’s Evan. I need you to call me back ASAP.” Mercy was a close friend in the FBI and the best person he could contact at this time of night to get things moving with the agency.
“Noelle to the rescue,” announced Noelle as she entered his office, two big takeout bags in her hands. “Good to see you haven’t fainted from hunger.” She set the bags on his desk and started unloading. The scent of curry made Evan salivate.
“Things happened while you were gone.” He quickly updated her on his call with the Shasta County detective.
“I’m glad we provided answers for her parents,” said Noelle. “Too bad they weren’t the answers they’d hoped for.” She sat down, slid a chair up to Evan’s desk, pulled out her phone, and scrolled as she took a bite of pad thai. She suddenly straightened and set down her fork, her eyes on her phone. “Check your email.”
Evan pulled chicken off a skewer with his teeth. “I was just in my email,” he said with his mouth full.
“This just landed. They’ve found Ken Steward’s Explorer.”
“Where?”
“Eagle’s Nest. The police chief found it abandoned near the town, ran the plates, and it pulled up our BOLO.”
“Chief Daly?”
“Yeah. I’ve heard of him but never met him. Know him?”
“Good friend. He’s married to the FBI agent I just left a voice mail for.”
“Small world on this side of the Cascades. I’ll get a forensics team en route,” said Noelle as she struggled to keep noodles on her plastic fork. “And then a tow.”
Evan glanced outside. The barest hint of daylight lingered. If he wanted a look at Ken’s vehicle tonight, he’d be doing it by flashlight.
“I know what you’re thinking,” said Noelle, eyeing him. “I don’t want to wait until tomorrow either.”
Evan shoveled food in his mouth. “Eat fast and let’s go.”
“You’ll drive and I’ll eat.”
His grumbling answer was muffled by a mouthful of chicken.
22
Ahead, off the rural lane, Evan spotted the county forensics van with its bright lights shining toward a large mass of dense brush. An Eagle’s Nest SUV was parked behind the van, and he recognized Police Chief Truman Daly standing with his arms folded across his chest while he watched the forensic tech. As he drew closer, Evan saw a Ford Explorer behind the brush twenty yards off the road.
Truman’s face lit up as Evan stepped out of his vehicle. “Bolton!” He strode forward and shook his hand. Evan introduced him to Noelle.
He and Truman went back a couple of years. They’d worked on a number of cases together, and Evan found the chief of police to be honest and an overall good guy. Evan glanced at his phone. The chief’s FBI agent wife still hadn’t called him back.
“I left a voice mail for Mercy almost an hour ago,” Evan told Truman. “Do you know what she’s doing?”
“She’s at her sister’s house. She and Rose are working on some project for baby Henry’s bedroom. And I know wine is involved.” Truman glanced at his own phone. “She hasn’t returned my text either.”
“Shouldn’t you be calling him ‘toddler Henry’ by now?”
Truman snorted. “Mercy and I had the same conversation. I’m worried the name ‘baby Henry’ will stick through high school.”