“Why Baltimore?”
“Because the bodies that went with those photos were found early this morning by a homeless man.”
Rylan stiffened. “How many?”
“Four,” Griff said. “And it gets worse.”
“Tell me.”
“Nikki didn’t go into many details, but she did say that the women had been laid side by side, like those in Kansas. And all the women were strangled and left with copies of Poe’s ‘Raven’ on their chests.”
Rylan’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t look surprised. Of course, he dealt more directly with the law officials who used their products. Including agencies that battled against terrorists.
There were few things left to shock him.
“Just like in Carmen’s book,” he said.
“Not exactly,” he corrected. “Nikki said after the cops sent her the preliminary photos from the crime scene that there were a few obvious differences.”
“What differences?”
“They were all blond.”
It took a second before Rylan muttered a curse. “Just like Carmen.”
“Yes.”
An ugly dread clouded his mind, bringing with it visions of dead women who looked like Carmen.
Christ. It didn’t make any sense. There were dozens of true crime books written every year. Maybe hundreds. Why would the killers become obsessed with Carmen? Was there some personal connection? Or just an unlucky trick of fate?
The unanswerable questions spun over and over, churning the acid in his stomach. If he didn’t end up with an ulcer, it would be a miracle.
“Is there more?” Rylan thankfully interrupted his dark thoughts.
Griff nodded. “There was a man who was in the same abandoned house. He had a gunshot to the head just like the one in Kansas.”
Rylan wrinkled his brow, trying to piece together the relevant details with what they already knew.
“So this time there were four women, not five.”
Rylan gave a slow nod. He hadn’t really considered the change in M.O. Was it important? A part of a pattern? Or had they been interrupted before they could get the fifth victim?
“That’s what the cops told Nikki.”
“And what about the man? Do they think he’s one of the killers?”
Griff turned his attention back to the computer, scrolling through his messages.
“She just got an ID on him. She said she sent me the file,” he said.
Easily finding the e-mail, he opened it to find a rap sheet attached.
“Josh Lucroy,” he read out loud. He studied the fuzzy picture of a guy with a square face and dark hair that needed to be combed. He had small eyes and looked half asleep. There was nothing that indicated he might be a ruthless serial killer. His gaze lowered to his arrest report, annoyed when he realized that it was official. Which meant that his juvenile records were sealed. The arrests didn’t show up until he turned eighteen. “Looks like he got picked up for peeking in windows. And exposing himself in a park.” His gaze skimmed over the petty crimes, moving to the bottom of the list. “Christ. He set a homeless person on fire.”
Rylan grimaced. “Sounds like a real charmer.”
Griff clicked to the next page. He’d expected information on the trial. Instead, there was an official form from a court-appointed psychiatrist.
“He was found mentally incompetent to stand trial.”
“What happened to him?”
It took a few minutes to search through the file and discover Josh Lucroy’s final destination.
“He was put in an institute.” Griff paused. He felt a tug of recognition. Something to do with the first man found. “Wait,” he muttered, pulling up the search he’d done on Archie Darrell.
“What is it?” Rylan asked.
He quickly read through his notes, locating what had been teasing at the edge of his mind.
“The man who was found dead in the house with the first women was put in an institute as well.”
Rylan laid a hand on the desk as he bent sideways to read the screen.
“The same one?”
Griff cursed beneath his breath. He’d leaped to the conclusion that it would be the same institute. Which would mean they could narrow down possible suspects. Perhaps even find a connection to Carmen.
Of course, that would have been too easy.
“No,” he growled, his voice harsh with frustration.
Rylan gave his shoulder a squeeze. “There could still be a connection.”
With an effort, Griff sucked in a deep breath and released it with a low hiss. Now more than ever he needed to keep his emotions under firm control.
“True.” He concentrated on his computer, sorting through his programs until he found the one he wanted. “I’ll run a search to see if the two had any contact before they were put away, and then I’ll find someone I can talk to at the hospitals. They might have a way to trace any correspondence he sent and received.” He was struck by a sudden thought. “Plus, I want to know if they found anything that might relate to Carmen in his room.”
Rylan sent him a curious glance, but before he could ask why the man should have information connected to Carmen, his phone buzzed. He pulled it out of his pocket and glanced at the screen.
“Jaci?”
“No. My contact at the California Bureau of Investigation.” Rylan frowned as he rose to his feet and pressed the phone to his ear.
Griff surged out of his chair and watched his friend as he paced toward the window. Five minutes later Rylan ended the call and turned back, his expression grim.
Griff clenched his hands at his sides. “Did they find something?”
“Yeah.” He walked back to stand next to Griff, his voice pitched low enough it wouldn’t carry. Clearly, he didn’t want Carmen to overhear if she happened to be awake. “They just finished investigating a suspicious fire.”
“On the beach?”
“On a dune, just twenty miles south of here,” Rylan corrected. “Which is why they didn’t see anything or anyone until too late. They were concentrating their efforts closer to the ocean.”
A nausea rolled through his gut. They were too late. Again.
“Bodies?” he demanded.
Rylan nodded. “Three women and one man. They’re too badly burned to know more than that.”
Griff drummed his fingers on the desk. They hadn’t been exactly on the beach, but it couldn’t be a coincidence that the victims had been burned. The killers had copied the Morning Star, just as they’d feared.
So, did that mean they were about to move on?
About to track down a copy of Carmen’s book, Griff froze. He’d been too focused on the fact that the killers had already struck to chew through the few facts they had.
“Wait,” he murmured. “You said there were three women and one man?”
Rylan nodded. “That’s what my contact said. I’m not sure if they’ve fully processed the scene, so I guess it’s a possibility they might find more bodies.”
Griff didn’t think so. He was beginning to see the pattern.
“They went from five women to four women to three women,” he said.
Rylan hesitated before he realized what Griff was saying. “Right. And each time a man was shot through the head and left with the bodies.”
“It sounds like some weird cult,” Griff muttered. “They kill women and then themselves.”
“And the cult is growing smaller,” Rylan pointed out, abruptly squaring his shoulders. “I want to take a look at the crime scene.”
“Can your buddy get you past the local police?”
Rylan’s lips twitched. “You know me well enough to realize that a few cops aren’t going to stop me.”
Griff glanced over his shoulder. “I can’t leave Carmen.”
“I’ve got this,” Rylan assured him.
“Thanks, Ry.”