But Laura would have given away all of that progress in a heartbeat if it meant that this woman didn’t have to die.
“There you are,” Sheriff Lonsdale said, turning his gray eyes on them as they stepped inside the room. Nate took up most of the doorway until he moved to one side, allowing Laura to stand by the sheriff and look down on the grisly scene. The woman’s neck was marked by ugly red marks where the dish towel had slipped away. “This is the work of the same guy, no doubt. The lady here is Nadia. Her son was sleeping upstairs while she was strangled to death.”
Laura’s heart clenched desperately at his words. They were said so casually as to sound bitter; Sheriff Lonsdale, too, seemed to find the situation deplorable. But Laura’s pain hit twice as hard, then three times. Once, for Lacey. Twice, for the other little girl she hadn’t yet been able to rescue: Amy. Laura thought of either of them dealing with the loss of a parent and it made her blink back tears. Mostly because Lacey effectively had—and Amy was going to.
“Is he okay?” she asked, one hand going up to her chest.
“Oh, yes,” Lonsdale said, his voice softening as he looked her over, realizing he had caused unnecessary worry with his words. “Yes, the little lad is fine. His father came home and found the body, and the boy was still sound asleep up there, none the wiser. He’s been taken to a neighbor.”
“It looks to have all the usual hallmarks,” Nate commented, seemingly unaffected by their conversation. He didn’t have children, Laura thought, uncharitably. A moment later she reprimanded herself. The boy was fine. Nate was getting on with the job of getting justice for his mother. “I can’t see anything that stands out as different.”
“Me either,” Laura said, swallowing hard and fighting to come back to a professional standard. Of course, she knew firsthand that nothing was different. She’d seen it.
“Well, shall we go talk to the husband?” Nate asked. “Get his statement before he collapses?”
“Good idea,” the sheriff said, gesturing toward the door. “He’s right outside. Name’s Paul.”
“We saw him on the way in, I believe,” Laura said, nodding. She nodded one more time to Nate, an unspoken communication. “Thanks, Sheriff. We’ll wait to hear the preliminary forensic report—I guess, tomorrow morning?”
“Right,” he agreed, as Laura turned and led Nate back outside.
She headed right for the bearded man she had seen earlier. He was easy to spot: the only one not in a uniform, the only one standing around idly, the only one who looked like he still had no idea what was going on. He was tall and broad, his arms folded across his chest with the air of a linebacker, but he couldn’t have looked more lost. Laura felt terrible for him. He’d had the shock of his life, coming home and finding his wife like that. If she had been able to get here quicker and save him that, Laura would have.
“Excuse me,” she said, feeling the cold air of the night on her face again. It was welcome right now. It kept her awake and alert, soothed off the sickness in her stomach at the thought of Nadia’s eyes as she died. “You’re the victim’s husband?”
He nodded. “Yeah. I…” He stopped, seemingly at a loss as for what to say.
Laura gave him a sad, sympathetic smile. “We’d like to talk to you for a moment, if you can. I’m FBI Agent Laura Frost, and this is my partner, Agent Nathaniel Lavoie.”
Paul looked at her sharply for a moment, and gave a bark of unhumorous laughter. She thought he was probably thinking that he didn’t know if he could do anything right now.
“Okay,” he said, though, and so she took the opportunity to press on.
“Do you know if there is any reason why someone would want to harm your wife? Or hurt you?” she asked. It wasn’t as though she thought he was going to come up with anything. Nothing had come up with the other two women. But there was always the possibility that this one was going to be the one that cracked the whole case wide open.
“No, no one,” Paul said. He was distracted, looking back toward the house often. His eyes had a glazed look to them. He still hadn’t processed things properly. “Why would they?”
“Well, it’s entirely possible this was a more random crime,” Laura said, trying to keep her voice even and calm despite the fact that it made her so angry. To think of this woman cut down in her prime, her son left without a mother—just because this killer wanted a victim, and anyone would do? “Have you noticed anything unusual over the past few days? Anyone in the neighborhood that you didn’t recognize?”
“No, nothing like that either,” Paul said, running his hand over his hair. He turned and froze; Laura followed his gaze and saw that he was looking at a half-deflated ball on the lawn, obviously one of his son’s toys. “Ashton. My—my son. I should go and check…”
“Of course,” Laura said quickly. She could see that he wasn’t in his right mind right now. Her questions were barely getting through to him at all. She glanced up at Nate, checking whether he wanted to say anything before they let him go.
“Just let us know your contact details, sir, if you would,” Nate added, his voice low yet brisk. “So that we can get in touch with you if we have any more questions later.”
“Sure.” Paul reached into his back pocket and pulled out a wallet, extricating a business card from it. He handed it to Nate, who responded in kind with one of his own. With the exchange complete, Paul slipped away, moving through the stream of law enforcement professionals and heading next door.
“Huh,” Nate said.
Laura looked around at him; he was studying the business card with a raised eyebrow. It looked tiny in his large hands. “What?”
He turned it without a word, allowing her to read it for herself. Paul Frost, Realtor.
Paul Frost.
“Hey,” Laura said, reaching out to snag the sleeve of a deputy that was just passing by. “What’s the victim’s full name?”
He stared at her like she’d asked him to name the seventy-nine moons of Jupiter. “Uh… Nadia Frost?”