“I found blood,” he said, his brown eyes excited.
“How do you know it’s related to the murder?” she asked.
“It’s fresh blood,” Kane replied. “And,” he drew the word out for emphasis, “I found this.”
He held out his hand. In it was an evidence bag, and inside the bag was an earring. A diamond earring, and it looked familiar. “Is that like the ones Jeannie was wearing?” she asked.
“Yep, it sure is, different color but same style. I found it over here.” He led them down the alley and stopped in front of a dumpster. Around it was a number of flattened cardboard boxes that looked like they had been tossed aside. “I found a little blood here.” He pointed a gloved hand at a spot on the side of the dumpster. “When you know who the next victim is I can run a DNA test and match it to this, then you’ll know for sure that her case is linked to Tillie and Jeannie’s.”
Rylla didn't like that Kane assumed there would already be a next victim. Not because she didn't agree with him, she did, but because the prospect of dealing with a serial killer was a depressing one.
“So, he already had his next victim when he came to drop off Tillie’s body,” Matthew thought aloud. “Having his new victim watch him kill his old victim is certainly a good way of ensuring compliance to his wishes, it makes it very clear what will happen to her if she doesn’t obey.”
“We might be able to get an idea of what kind of vehicle he drives if we can find a blood trail from here, and match it with the one Tracey found from Tillie’s body, we can find where they intersect and see if there are any tire marks,” Kane said.
“She got away for a little while,” Rylla said. “She probably had an opportunity to run while the killer was posing the body. He obviously didn't have her restrained. She had to decide either try and run for help or hide and hope he didn't find her.”
Unfortunately, the woman had made the wrong choice. She had chosen to hide, and he had found her. As much as she hoped it wasn't going to turn out to be the case, most likely this woman, whoever she was, would make another wrong choice that would probably get her killed.
* * * * *
10:21 A.M.
Nate Oakland sat and stared out the window.
He was supposed to be working but he couldn’t concentrate.
All he could think about was weddings.
Not his own, the chances of that coming around again were slim to none. And not the wedding he would be attending next month. He was thinking of a wedding from over a year ago. When his best friend had found happiness and married the woman of his dreams.
He had messed up that day.
Badly.
He didn't know how to make it right. He’d let fear dictate his answer that day and now he was afraid that he had lost his chance at finding happiness with the woman of his dreams.
If he could go back in time, he would do so many things differently. First and foremost, saying yes to Rylla. Nate really hoped that hadn’t been the biggest mistake of his life.
Or at least one of them.
At thirty-three, he had made alotof mistakes. More than he cared to think of. And none of them he knew how to rectify.
Something bounced off his head and he started and turned to see a scrunched-up piece of paper fall to the floor.
“I've been talking to you for the last ten minutes and you haven't heard a word I've said.” His boss and oldest friend was staring at him.
Nate had known Sam Zeeke since they were kids. They’d grown apart once they graduated high school, but after he had messed up his life in a major way and needed a fresh start, he’d reconnected with his friend and now he worked at Sam’s private investigation firm. Sam knew every one of the stupid mistakes he’d made.
Well, almost all of them.
“The wedding has you thinking about Rylla and you ridiculously turning her down when she asked you out,” Sam said.
Okay, so apparently Samdidknow every single one of the stupid mistakes he’d made, including his most recent disaster. “How do you even know about that?” Nate asked. He hadn’t told Sam, he’d been too embarrassed.
“Rylla told Naomi and Naomi told me. We’re married, she has to tell me everything,” Sam added when he scowled. “I don’t get it. Why did you say no?”
No one had ever accused Sam of being tactful, he was always blunt. “The timing wasn't right,” he answered lamely. He knew that was a pathetic excuse. He had liked Rylla ever since he’d met her six years ago. Detective Rylla Franklin was Sam’s wife Naomi’s best friend. The attraction had been instantaneous, the second he had seen her he’d wanted her.