“Yes, but this one keeps breaking his profile. Three girls and one man are dead, with three separate and distinct methods of killing. Another girl is missing. He’s not leaving them in a secret dumping ground; he’s placing them where we’ll find them quickly. Even finding Jordan on the banks of the river was calculated. She could have easily been washed downstream, but I think he weighted her down right there in the area she was found, came back to her body after Shelby’s was discovered and released her, knowing with the slow current she wouldn’t go far. A coincidence, finding them both in such a short period of time? There are no coincidences, not in this world.” He sat back and steepled his fingers under his chin. “You know what they say, ‘Coincidence is God’s way of remaining anonymous.’ So unless God ordained that Jordan was going to be found within twenty-four hours of Shelby, it was planned.”
He broke off, taking a sip of his soda. “I think we need to be looking for someone a little older than the standard profiled age. Middle-aged even. And where do you find middle-aged men on a college campus?”
Price smiled. “Professors.”
“Exactly. I think Shelby, Jordan, Jill and our unidentified burn victim have all had contact with him in a controlled environment on campus. How the priest fits in, I don’t know yet. There are no indications the girls were religious or attended St. Catherine’s.”
“Let’s leave Father Xavier aside for the moment. He might have been in the wrong place at the wrong time. Focus on the girls. You think they’ve all had contact with the suspect one way or another. Are they taking classes from him?”
“That’s the most obvious explanation. He could be a counselor, or a doctor, or a janitor for all I know. But he definitely has access to them, and I’m inclined to think he’s in a position of authority over them. We’ve surmised they were all dating someone, Jill and Shelby perhaps on the sly. If they were all seeing the same man, and that man is the one who is killing them, it makes it simpler to understand their connection. He’s having affairs with his students, which is a major no-no.”
“So why kill them? They found out about each other? Talk and turn him in?”
“I don’t think so. One explanation for Jordan’s death is her pregnancy. We’ve learned that the DNA of the fetus didn’t match the DNA left at Shelby’s crime scene. It’s possible he was furious that she had gotten pregnant by another man. And Shelby…well, she was raped, repeatedly. Maybe he was trying to get her pregnant. With Jill’s pregnancy…I can’t be certain, but the father angle is the best thought I have for right now. The guy has a God complex.”
Price gave him a long look and wadded up his taco wrappers. “You are scaring the hell out of me. Let’s get back to the squad. It’s time to kick this into high gear.” He stood and took their trays to the trashcan. His excitement was palpable, cases broke on less cogent theories. They started back to the office, walking quickly. Just before they reached the door, Price turned to Baldwin.
“And, son? You hurt Taylor, and I’ll rip your balls off. Got me?”
Baldwin didn’t miss a beat. Apparently their body language had been enough to give them away. He wasn’t sure how she felt, or where it was going, but he did know he wanted to get to know Taylor much, much better. But he didn’t hesitate or play around. He looked Price in the eye, unflinching.
“Yes, sir.” And he meant it.
Fifty-One
Taylor pulled up in front of the Washington Square building on Second Avenue. She looped into the parking lot and took the first open space. She locked her car, walked the twenty yards to the door and entered the building.
She was prepared for this meeting of the grand jury. She wasn’t thinking about guns. Or the coppery scent of blood. Or the slight sense of satisfaction she had felt when she realized who she had killed. None of those things were going through her mind at the moment. She was totally focused on an image of twelve-year-old Tamika Jones, lying in a puddle of blood on her grandmother’s kitchen floor.
Taylor was so intent on her purpose, she walked right past Julia Page.
“Hey, Lieutenant. Over here.” Page trotted after Taylor, an engaging grin on her rotund face. Taylor stopped dead and looked over her shoulder, realizing she had missed seeing the Assistant District Attorney. Granted, ADA Page was maybe five-foot on a good day, so she wasn’t automatically in Taylor’s line of vision, but she shouldn’t have missed her totally.
She started back up the hall. “Sorry, Julia. Lost in thought. We all set?”
Page tried to keep pace with Taylor’s strides, her brown curls bobbing with the effort. “Yes, we’re all set. Are you ready?”
Taylor stopped, realizing the shorter woman was practically running to keep up. “Ready as I’ll ever be. I want to get this over with.”
ADA Page pursed her lips and looked her over, as if to gauge whether Taylor was telling the truth. “I don’t blame you. The grand jury is in room 502. They’re waiting for you. You know I can’t go in there with you. Taylor,” her pug nose twitched and her demeanor became all business, “You know how important this is.”
“That almost sounds like coaching, Julia. I’ve got it covered. I’ll see you after, okay?”
With that, Taylor strode away, catching the elevator at the last moment. She shoved her hand in between the closing doors, and they slid back open. There was only one other passenger. He sighed loudly in annoyance. She gave him her brightest smile and fingered her Glock. He blushed and looked at the floor.