“No, I haven’t gotten that far yet. But there’s a good chance that he’d hit the local photographer in that town, too.”
“Why?” She impatiently shook her head. Hadn’t she just been thinking that some serial killers were prone to go after certain physical types? “Walsh went to a hell of a lot of trouble. Definitely not victims of opportunity.”
“Neither was Patsy Danver.”
“Another one?” she whispered.
He nodded. “Same town. Seven months later. Eight years old. Car accident with her father, brakes failed, and they went off the side of a cliff.”
“Good God.”
He nodded. “But every one could be an accident.”
“Yes, and none of them bear the signs of the usual serial killer. Most of those killers are into power and the attacks are close-up and personal. Except for possibly the first child, he wouldn’t have even touched those little girls.”
“And there was no indication of abuse even with her.” He paused. “If it was Walsh, he only wanted them dead and was willing to give up any personal satisfaction to make the kills safe and appear unconnected and go virtually unnoticed.”
“Then why did he want them dead? What did they have in common?”
“They were all little girls. Eight years of age. They all had type O blood. They all had dark hair, green or hazel eyes.” He bent over the computer. “And one other similarity. I’ll pull up the school photos for you. It’s only slight but enough so that even I noticed…”
The three photos were suddenly before Eve, staring out of the screen at her. Smiling at her with all the vitality and adorable beauty of children. Dark-haired, green eyes …
She inhaled sharply. “Dear God, they all look a little like Jenny.”
Joe nodded. “Only a little. The same arched brows, but the cheekbones aren’t that pronounced. Still, they all bear a faint resemblance to that reconstruction I saw on your worktable that morning.”
“So he killed them all because they looked like Jenny?” She lifted her shaking hand to her temple. “Not only the same type, but an actual resemblance?”
“It’s a possibility. But we can’t rule out that it could be a family resemblance and that tie could be significant. Providing we accept the premise that these seemingly accidental deaths were murders committed by Walsh.”
“I’m close to accepting it.” She shuddered. “Though the idea of his going through those photos and picking out three innocent children just because they reminded him of one of his former victims is totally macabre.”
“Maybe more than three.”
Her gaze flew to his face. “What?”
“I didn’t have time to go any deeper into the search yet,” he said quietly. “It appears he might have confined his killing to this area of California, but how do we know that he limited his hunting ground to these few towns?”
“We don’t.”
“There were lots of little girls.”
She felt sick.
Joe nodded. “Then we’d better find out what we have to deal with.” He dropped down in the chair again. “We know what we’re looking for now. Let me get to work. It may take a few hours.”
And he wasn’t suggesting that she help him. He was trying to protect her from being pulled any deeper into this horror.
But it was her horror, too.
And so was the terrible anger that was beginning to flare within her.
“Maybe not if we do it together.” She pulled out a chair and logged into the computer. “Eight years old. Accidental death. Right?”
LAKE TAHOE, CALIFORNIA
Everything about these mountains was knife-sharp, Walsh thought.
Pale blue skies, sharp wind whipping the rental car almost off the curves as he drove up the road.
He knew these mountains. He had been sent to hunt down an escaped target in the next valley. That was a long time ago, but he remembered that day with pleasure.
As he would remember this day with pleasure.
That little bitch, Jenny, had not really been at that campfire in the woods that night. It had only been a hallucination.