“You found her?” Ro asked.
“On the anniversary of her abduction.” He stopped pacing, his eyes very far away.
Twenty people had volunteered for the search, walking through the mountains in a grid pattern. The group split into two, and one group chose to explore the area near the river. Ben went with the river group at first, but a couple hours in, he strayed from the party, electing to look by himself.
Twenty minutes later, something metallic glinted in the filtered sunlight: a small ring sitting on a finger. The hand was half skeletal but still retained some flesh. Ben’s breath shortened and his eyes became blurry. Something deep rose up in his throat. He threw up with such force that he hit a tree five feet away. After that, things became hazy. He remembered sitting on a rock, shivering even though it was in the seventies in town. By the river, it was cooler, shaded by the mountains, the tall cottonwoods, the sycamores, the aspens, and the pines. His shakes had nothing to do with the temperature.
The mud and the cool soil along the water had preserved some of the body. More important, deep inside Ellen’s body, the riverbanks had preserved biological evidence. Surely an arrest would be imminent, Shanks said.
Imminent had been going on three years.
Ben whispered, “It was beyond horrible, but what made it even worse was the police. I was too stupid to realize it, but they were actually questioning me.”
“Shanks?”
“No. Shanks came in later. A guy named Chelly. When Shanks found out what was going on, he reamed the guy’s ass. Lucky for me, I don’t remember too much of that day. Not like the day Ellen was abducted. That day I remember very well.”
Ro was trying to keep her train of thought. Ben’s attention was scattershot. He’d look around his room as if it were unfamiliar territory, and then he was back in reality. Normally, he was hyperfocused, the anti-ADD. She knew she was making him nervous. Finally, someone had outed his secret and he didn’t know whether to be relieved or mad.
“So . . . like . . .” He started rooting through the cases laid out on his bed. He pulled up six files. “Okay . . . all these files have orange dots. I felt they weren’t related to Ellen, but they were related to each other. I put them together like . . . like a year ago for these two files.”
“Are they related?” Ro asked.
“Four of the six have been linked to the Albuquerque Demon. If I had anyone’s ear, I’d say that the police should be looking into these two victims as well.”
“So call the police.”
“I don’t know anyone in Albuquerque except maybe the primary on the Doogan case—Milton Ortiz. And I don’t know him that well. I have been questioned enough to know I don’t like it.”
“Then call up Shanks.”
“Still debating whether or not to do it.”
“You don’t trust him?”
“Yeah, I trust him. He knows I’m obsessive but he doesn’t know the extent of it. In my head, what I’m doing is totally normal. To anyone else, it is odd.”
“Let me say something . . . just get it out, okay?”
“Okay.”
Ro said, “Everyone copes with things in a different way. If this is what you’ve got to do, then do it. I won’t pass judgment.”
Ben nodded. “Did I tell you I loved you?”
“No, but I just assumed it from the start.”
Ben laughed, then grew serious. “Anyway, serial killers . . . a lot of them like to relive what they did.”
“I know. I’ve seen a lot of bad TV.”
“It is bad TV but it’s also true. I’m trying to figure out how they’d relive my sister’s murder in hopes that I can figure out patterns.”
He tucked his hair behind his ears.
“Sometimes I do step back. I suffer when I read about this stuff. Instead of feeling bad, I try to immerse myself in details so I don’t see the big picture.”
“Like doctors working with cancer patients,” Ro said. “They give you these minute details of the progress of the treatment or the disease . . . when all you want to know is if she’s going to be okay.”
“Right. Think of me as a forensic oncologist.”
“You know what an oncologist is?”
“Not until you told me about your sister. When I looked up osteogenic sarcoma, I found out what an oncologist is.” He shrugged.
Ro shrugged back. She picked up some files and began reading them to herself. Seeing her occupied, Ben went back to the computer.
A half hour passed.
Ro said, “You have so much organized information. Take these three burgundy files. You’ve got this girl, Janina Nu?ez from Arizona, associated with Nicole Lafey from Louisiana and Nancy Jimenez from Las Cruces. Has anyone else ever put these three together?”
“I have no idea.”
“Vicks, this is a gold mine of data. Put it to good use. Think of the families.” When he didn’t answer, she said, “If you’re worried what the police will think, I’ll come with you. Nancy Drew and the Hardy boys.”
“You nailed it. I don’t want to be the wiseass kid who shows up the professionals. Shanks is tolerant of me—very nice actually—but I don’t want to be an asshole.”
“But you did get it right with the Demon.”
“So did Albuquerque and state police.”
“But they’ve only linked four. You have six.”
“They’re still testing others. They may have a lot more links than I do.”
Silence. “I’d like to meet him . . . Shanks.”
“No way. I’m not bringing you into my psychopathology.”
“You already have.”
“That’s because you barged into my room.”
“Vicks, I just keep thinking of all the families you could be helping.”
“I’m not ready to talk to Shanks. I just don’t want to do it yet, okay?”
“Fair enough. Let me see your sister’s file. I should have read that first.”
“Okay.”
Two hours later, Ro was done with Ellen’s file. She moved on and kept reading. “What’s with this folder, Vicks? You have two red dots on it.”
Ben spoke as he scrolled down on his computer. “Julia Rehnquist. She has some points in common with my sister’s death.”
“More than Katie Doogan?”
“I can’t make that assessment until Katie has been located.” He turned to face her. “About three weeks ago it came to me, stupid idiot that I was. Look at the dates of all three girls, Ro. Julia was abducted on December nineteenth. My sister was abducted on June twenty-second. Katie was taken on March twenty-first. Do you see the pattern?”
Ro studied the three girls on paper. Different months, different dates, different places. “They’re all in the latter half of the months. But I have a feeling that’s not it.”
“The murders happened a day or two away from the equinoxes or the solstices.”
“Wow.” Ro felt her heart beating. “That’s really creepy. Like the Zodiac Killer.”
“You know about the Zodiac Killer?”
Ro felt her face go hot. “At one time I wanted to go to California for school. You know . . . sun and beaches. You research San Francisco, you learn about the Zodiac Killer.”