CHAPTER SEVEN
As soon as they were in the car, May got on the phone to Sheriff Jack, hooking the phone up to hands-free as she powered onto the highway.
"We need your help, Jack,” she said. “Now that there are four cases, there might be more common threads to be found that weren’t obvious earlier on. We’ve already been to question the husband of the recent victim, Sheila Craig, and view the crime scene, but we’d like to work on the others as well.”
“That’s a good idea, May. Looking at all four with the perspective we have now, and especially the earlier three cases, might mean that you pick up something.”
“Would you be able to send us the case files? We’re driving back from Springfield, so we have some time on the road, and Owen can look through them.”
“I’m going to obtain them for you, and send them to you straight away,” Jack said. “May, whatever you can find, please go straight ahead and follow it up. There’s no time to waste.”
She could hear the urgency in his voice.
“Are you under pressure on your side?” she asked, guessing that he was.
"Yes. It’s escalating, even with the FBI involved. We're being called on an hourly basis by the chief of police and the state governor, asking for progress updates. And because of the violence of these explosions, it is creating a media storm. Especially now that people are realizing that these bomb blasts in different parts of the state are all being carried out by one serial killer. That creates an immense amount of fear, as you know.”
“Yes, I know,” May said somberly.
“With the panic it's generating, any delay in getting answers is going to reflect badly on us."
May swallowed hard. She could sympathize with what Sheriff Jack must be having to handle.
"I hope we can get answers soon, and we’ll go ahead as fast as we can."
"I'll email you the files in the next few minutes," Jack said.
May disconnected and glanced at Owen, who looked as worried as she felt.
"This is going to escalate in a bad way," he said.
"I hope we can find something - some common thread - in the other cases," May emphasized.
At that moment, Owen's phone and iPad began pinging.
"Here are the cases," he said, sounding more encouraged that at least now there was something to analyze.
"Take a look, and read the summaries out to me. Let's see what we have," May said, mentally crossing fingers that this would allow them to make progress.
They were driving out of town now, leaving the urban view behind, and the landscape was changing to the forested hills, lakes, and greenery that would provide a scenic backdrop for most of the way back to Tamarack County. She guessed the killer must have driven this same route, after murdering Sheila, with his next setup in mind.
She could only imagine how his mind had been buzzing with evil thoughts as he'd driven along the beautiful and scenic roads.
And now instead of being able to appreciate the view, May felt consumed with worry that they wouldn't find him, and that this would escalate into a national disaster, with the Tamarack County police departments at its epicenter.
Luckily, at that moment, Owen got the files into order and began reading.
"The first victim, killed a month ago, was a teacher at Woodbridge High School," Owen said.
May raised her eyebrows. That was just inside the borders of Tamarack County.
"I don't recall hearing about the crime," she said.
Owen shook his head. "It says here that the art teacher, Mrs. Flannery, age forty-seven, lived about fifty miles out of town on a farm with her son. So she resided outside of the county. She was murdered at her residence, not at school.”
“That explains it,” May said. “What happened?”
“She used to take her son’s car to market every Wednesday, and it was wired to explode when she started it early on Wednesday morning.”