“And yet these seem just as methodical as any I’ve seen,” Gina said.
“I agree,” Kendra said. “There’s nothing rushed about this. The killer is extremely methodical. He obviously chose his victims carefully and had been watching to get a sense of their schedules. He managed to abduct and murder three women, then dispose of their bodies in fairly public areas, all without getting caught or seemingly leaving a trace of himself behind. He’s been planning this for weeks, then killing them quickly, one after the other, for maximum impact.” She looked grimly at Metcalf. “He may have his next victims already picked out.”
He nodded. “Griffin agrees. That’s why he called in that favor from you. It’s all hands on deck around here.”
Kendra studied the crime scene photos again, trying to glean something, anything that could help them catch this monster before he struck again. But her eyes kept going back to the random objects that had been planted with each corpse.
Keys. Bowling ring. Bolo tie. Pocket watch. Visor.
She leaned closer and murmured under her breath, “What are you saying to us, you sick asshole…?”
Metcalf bent down alongside her. “We’ve been asking ourselves the exact same question. Do you want us to give you a call when we get the objects from San Diego PD?”
She shook her head. “I’d rather you get these up to the lab and see if you can get DNA from them.”
“Sure. The visor band is a good possibility for that. The ring, too.”
“That’s what I’m thinking.”
“Does anything else jump out at you?”
Her eyes darted between the various photos. “I would have had a better shot if I’d been there myself. Here, all I have to go on is what I can see. I feel a little…”
“Handicapped?” Metcalf offered.
“At a disadvantage. I really can’t see anything that—” She froze. “Wait.”
“What is it?” Gina asked.
Kendra squinted at the young victims in the first two crime scenes, staring at one, then the other, then back again. “Do you have high-res photos of these victims’ faces?”
Metcalf flipped up the lid of a laptop on the conference table. “San Diego PD gave us dozens. Which would you prefer? From the crime scene or the autopsy table?”
What a choice, she thought. How in the hell had she gotten to this point?
Because she’d insisted on coming here tonight over the objections of everyone. Way to go, Kendra.
“Let’s start with the morgue shots. It would show us both victims under the same lighting. But I need to see pictures taken before the bodies were cleaned.”
Metcalf tapped the keyboard, scrolling through the photos. He grabbed a remote control and switched on a flat panel monitor at the end of the room. “I’ll put them up there side by side. Pre-autopsy morgue shots of the first two victims.”
The monitor flickered, then displayed head-and-shoulders pictures of the two murder victims. Amber McKay’s eyes were still open, but from this angle she appeared less expectant and more … sad.
Kendra walked toward the monitor and studied the victims’ faces for a long moment. She turned back to Metcalf. “Can you zoom in on these? Tighter on the faces.”
With a few keystrokes by Metcalf, the women’s faces filled the monitor screen.
Kendra turned back to Metcalf and Gina. “See it?”
The agents stared at the monitor.
Metcalf shook his head. “I’m not sure what I’m supposed to be—”
“The lipstick,” Gina interrupted. “That’s what you’re talking about, isn’t it?”
“Yes.” Kendra pointed to the peach-tinted lips on each photo. “The lipstick is identical. The exact same shade and level of gloss on each. And what’s more, I’m pretty sure the burned corpse we saw was wearing the same lipstick.”
Metcalf grimaced. “How could you tell?”
“The left corner of the corpse’s mouth was reasonably intact. She was wearing lipstick. This lipstick.”
Metcalf thought about it. “Okay. That means either we’re dealing with a killer with a serious grudge against women with peach-colored lipstick…”
“… or, more likely, he’s putting it on them himself. Either before or after he kills them,” Kendra said.
Gina glanced back and forth between the photos. “Why in the hell would someone do that?”
“Why do psychopaths do any of the things they do? Maybe he stole it from his nasty boss. Maybe it was worn by the prom queen who wouldn’t give him the time of day in high school. Maybe it’s what he’d like to be wearing himself, but he just can’t admit it.” She turned to Metcalf. “Call Kearney Mesa. Make sure they scrape a sample of the third victim’s lipstick before they clean and prep her body for autopsy.”
“And if they’ve already autopsied her?” Gina asked.
Kendra shrugged. “Then some lucky lab assistant will soon be rummaging through bags of medical waste.” She looked at Metcalf and then at Gina. “Let’s go there now.”
“Seriously?” Metcalf said. “Just show up at the medical examiner’s offices at three-thirty in the morning?”
“Why not? You know someone will be there. Death doesn’t have much respect for a nine-to-five work day.”
Metcalf stared at her. “You know, I think I liked Reluctant Kendra better. Gung-ho Kendra can be exhausting.”
Her lips curved in a half smile. “Too bad. You opened this Pandora’s box.”
“My boss opened it. He just made me pick up the heavy end of the lid.”
Gina took one last look at the side-by-side photos before turning around. “I’ll drive.”
“Really?” Metcalf said. “I was about to tell you to go home and grab a few winks while Kendra and I went over there.”
Gina shook her head. “No, I’m beginning to see why the boss wants Kendra on the case so much. I want to see where this goes.” She pulled her keys from her pocket. “Ready?”
San Diego Medical Examiner’s Office
Kearny Mesa They made the short drive to the M.E.’s office in a neighborhood dominated by office parks and industrial structures. After a brief confrontation with an over-zealous private security officer, they entered the office building and were escorted to the office of Dr. Christian Ross. The heavyset man was seated at a cluttered desk, about to devour a chicken parmesan sandwich.
He leaned back and regarded the three of them with a bemused expression. “A man with my abilities and experience doesn’t have to work the overnight shift, you know. Everyone here thought I’d gone mad. But you know why I did it?”
Kendra smiled. “So you wouldn’t have to talk to people like us?”
“Exactly. No offense.”
“None taken,” Metcalf said.
“Do you know how many times I’ve performed an autopsy with police officers pacing the halls outside, figuratively cracking the whip? Or how often I’ve been brow-beaten for a report, when it’s all we can do to stay above water?”
Kendra sat on the edge of his desk. “A lot?”