CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Laura typed the last name into the computer and scanned the results that came up, shaking her head. “Nothing on this one,” she said.
“Still, that’s promising,” Nate replied. “One employee with a criminal record – that’s all we need, after all.”
Laura looked over the list again. It was true – just one of the people on the list was previously known to the local police. A woman who had been cautioned over a small theft when she was a teenager. That was over a decade ago, but then it didn’t necessarily matter. It only meant she hadn’t been caught again, not that she had stopped stealing or committing other crimes. Maybe she’d just become better at it.
“We made up our minds fairly certainly that this was the work of a male killer,” Laura mused, looking at the names again. Tanya Hamilton. Could she really have the strength to hit someone over the back of the head hard enough to kill them? Perez had needed two hits, but he was the first one. The others had died on impact. That required significant upper body strength.
“Maybe she steals the mannequins on behalf of the killer,” Nate suggested. “It wouldn’t be the first time that a woman got caught up in helping a lover commit his crimes. Myra Hindley and Ian Brady, Karla Homolka and Paul Bernardo, Charlene and Gerald Gallego.”
“Maybe,” Laura agreed. That situation was a little more plausible. And maybe the staging of the bodies pointed at that kind of complex situation – it would be a lot easier to explain the weirdness of it all if there were two people involved. “We should pay her a visit, see what she has to say when she has no warning we’re coming. Maybe we’ll get lucky and find a mannequin right there in her home.”
“Then let’s head out,” Nate said, already starting towards the door.
Laura followed him to the car, getting into the passenger side while he drove. The GPS showed that they weren’t far from their potential suspect’s home, which was a plus. Five or ten minutes and they’d be there. “What about the others?” she asked. “If this doesn’t work out, we’ll have to work our way down the list.”
“I agree,” Nate said. “The one I’m most suspicious about, other than Hamilton, would be the security guard.”
“Really?” Laura asked. “The manager didn’t seem to have any concerns about him.”
“He didn’t express particular concerns about any of them, but one of them has to be guilty,” Nate pointed out.
“You’re right, as always,” Laura said, her eyes drifting to the view out of the window as she thought. It would help a lot if she had something to touch right now. She realized she’d started to subconsciously avoid anything that might help trigger a vision, out of the fear that it wouldn’t come. But it was selfish, that fear. It could be keeping the killer free, allowing him – or possibly, now, her – to go after another victim. She needed to push it, try to find something.
But what?
“So, you haven’t seen anything for a while,” Nate said, as if he was reading her mind. His tone was a forced casual, clearly faked. “I mean, you’ve seen things. Just not – seen things. Uh, you know.”
“I haven’t had any visions,” Laura said wearily, helping him to translate what he actually meant. “Yes, I know. I’m working on it.”
“Okay.” Nate glanced at her sideways briefly. “Anything I should be doing to help?”
“I’ve managed it fine for thirty-three years without your help,” Laura said, and regretted it immediately. “Damnit. Sorry. I’m just – I’m aware I haven’t been very helpful on this case. I do want to see something, it’s just – not coming right now.”
“We’re managing fine,” Nate said, which she thought was extremely generous on his part given that they still hadn’t arrested anyone. “Don’t stress out about it.”
“Easier said than done,” Laura sighed, putting her head against the backrest, and trying to think.
Maybe she would get lucky. If they were about to pull up outside the house of someone who really was involved with the case, maybe just touching the door or shaking hands with her would be enough. She would make an effort here. She had to.
“This is it,” Nate said, pulling up alongside a small, thin house squeezed between two others. Laura took a breath. She had to do this. She had to.
They got out of the car and Laura hung back for just a moment, trying to gather her courage. She needed to face this head-on. Why was it so terrifying now to think that she might fail? She’d spent a long time wishing she had no visions at all, and now here she was scared that she’d touch something and not get one?
She shook her hands out to her sides in an effort to clear the mental block and then stalked after Nate, who was already on his way to the door.
He knocked, and they both waited in silence, the tension building. They were both keenly aware that this could be their suspect – even if it was a female who had stolen the items, that didn’t mean she lived alone or that the actual killer wasn’t going to answer the door. No matter what happened here, it was likely to lead them to the killer either directly or indirectly – unless they were wrong, which was something Laura didn’t even want to contemplate.
The woman who answered the door was clearly not expecting to see them. She blinked as she took them in, looking them up and down. “Hello?” she said.
“Hello,” Laura replied, pleasantly enough. “Are you Tanya Hamilton?”
“Yes,” she said, then looked between them again more doubtfully. Laura always liked to imagine what was going through someone’s mind at this point. Did she think they were here to sell her something? To deliver a subpoena? Maybe as debt collectors?
“Excellent,” Laura said, whipping out her badge, watching for the moment Tanya’s face would change. “I’m Special Agent Laura Frost. Could we come in and talk?”
Tanya’s face did change – into utter surprise and then horror. “What is this about?” she asked nervously, glancing up and down the street behind them.”