Total pages in book: 120
Estimated words: 111860 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 559(@200wpm)___ 447(@250wpm)___ 373(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 111860 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 559(@200wpm)___ 447(@250wpm)___ 373(@300wpm)
“I’ll have more definitive answers shortly, but yes, I strongly suspect so.”
“Which leads me to wonder if there was another person at the first two murders as well.”
“Evidence confirmed those people stabbed each other, though, correct?” Ambrose asked.
“Yes. But some of the wounds were deeper and more . . . purposeful?” She looked at Clyde for confirmation, and he gave her a nod. “Because of the hallucinogens, it was difficult to say whether the wounds held different levels of vigor, for lack of a better description, because of multiple knife wielders or because of the drugs.”
“That makes sense. People tripping on hallucinogens can morph quickly between emotions, reactions, et cetera,” Ambrose said.
“Right. But now—”
“Now it’s looking highly likely there’s a killer who probably walked away from each scene.”
Lennon nodded slowly before looking at Clyde. “The more superficial wounds—what’s your take there? That the killer was just warming up with the ones the male victim fended off?”
“Could be. Or the killer didn’t expect him to fight back, and the fact that he did made the person holding the knife angry enough to go for gusto.”
“Or if the women did partake in some violence, perhaps he was angry that they weren’t stabbing with enough force to do any harm. The victims at the other scenes became very violent with each other. But maybe these ones didn’t. Maybe that made the killer mad, but also meant he had to take over the job if their death was his goal,” Ambrose said.
“Okay, yes,” Lennon said, and Ambrose swore that even though he didn’t know this woman at all, he could see the wheels turning behind her eyes. She definitely had layers, but one thing was clear—she was also deeply intelligent. “That’s a possibility too. And further, if this killer who was there walked away, does that mean he set it up?”
“I think he would have had to,” Ambrose said, and that specific more than any other caused him great distress.
“Anything else?” Lennon asked Clyde, who had been watching them volley comments back and forth.
“Well,” Clyde said, lifting the woman’s hand and showing them her dirty fingernails. “Cursory glances at all three of them tell me they were likely living on the street, just like the other victims. Heavy drug use for all three at some point—though, again, I only detected the hallucinogens in their blood.”
“That’s a little odd, too, isn’t it?” Ambrose said. “All three of them were clean except for the drugs found at the scene. Was that true of the four other victims?”
“It was,” Lennon said. “It is odd, actually, that they’d all gotten clean for at least some amount of time before arriving at the scene of their death.”
The scene of their death. That description made a shiver dance over his skin because it was another nod to a preplanned event. “Few show up willingly to the scene of their death,” he said, meeting Lennon’s eyes.
“No, not many,” she said.
“So they probably didn’t.”
“Agreed. These people likely showed up expecting something very different than what it turned out to be.”
“I do have something that might offer a lead,” Clyde said, turning and reaching for something on the table behind him. He held up a plastic bag with a pair of folded jeans inside. “The man was wearing these.”
“Please tell me you found an ID in an inside pocket,” Lennon said. They both knew there hadn’t been one in an obvious spot, as the criminalists had carefully searched them all. ID’ing the victims had proved difficult, as was often the case with those considered transient. Locating records, if they existed, wasn’t easy, especially since these folks often came from all over the country. The fact that arrests for drug offenses—which would have put them in the system—were way down only upped the challenge.
“Unfortunately, no. But this might help.” Clyde folded the bag slightly so that the tag at the back of the jeans was showing. Ambrose and Lennon leaned in, and he caught a whiff of her perfume. He was amazed that anything could remain light and fresh in this particular room, and the brief pull of her air was a too-short but welcome reprieve.
“Does that say . . .” A line formed between her brows as she obviously strained to make out the black ink on the white tag.
“Gilbert House,” Clyde said. “I googled it, and it’s a shelter for homeless men in the Tenderloin.”
“You could have led with that, kind sir,” Lennon said with a cock of her brow.
Clyde chuckled. “Yes, but I have so few breathing visitors. I wanted to make sure you stayed for longer than a minute.”
Clyde brought the sheet back over the woman. “I’ll call you this afternoon if I find anything else that might help immediately. Otherwise, the report will be sent over as soon as possible.”