“Oh, hell,” Will said. “Give me a minute.” He pulled out his cell phone and had a brief conversation-with Brooks, it was soon evident. After he hung up, he said, “I hate these multi-jurisdictional cases. I forgot to tell him about Smith’s body being found. Now he claims he never really thought Noah did it. And he denied following him.”
“But Noah was certain he was being followed,” Cheryl Beth said.
“Maybe by the killer.”
The chill returned to her bloodstream. “The killer who writes to you personally. Oh, Will…”
“I want to show you some photographs,” he said. “Let me know if any of them are familiar. Anybody you’ve seen hanging around campus or the hospital. Anybody who might have seen these three students.”
She ran through ten photographs and none looked familiar. One was a bald man, although he looked distinguished in a suit and tie. She went one by one again, trying to remember. She finally shook her head.
“I’m sorry.”
“You lingered on one,” he said.
“Only because he was older and bald. I keep thinking about what Lauren’s sister said, about how Lauren was afraid she was being stalked by an older bald man.”
“Something’s got to tie them together. Three separate attacks, sixty miles apart from each other. One was on a trained police officer, and I can vouch for her toughness. Another was on a well-built young man. And this guy went after two young women at the same time, and after knocking Noah Smith out. Then he comes back and kills him. Thinks he’s an artist. Now we know all these killings were done by the same guy. But we don’t have the key that connects them.”
“Aren’t there random murders?”
“Sure,” he said. “But this random is very rare. It’s common to read about supposedly random murders, but the victims are all prostitutes, sometimes all working on the same strip. Or they’re dark-haired women who remind the killer of someone in his life. Anyway, whoever wrote that note was taking credit, as if he specifically chose his victims. They’re going to bring in an FBI profiler. But I already know what he’ll say. White male. Narcissist, sense of grandiosity. Probably had a screwed-up childhood. Maybe impotent: none of the autopsies showed the presence of semen. Noah and the girls used condoms, and the killer took them. He’s very precise. He’s done it before…”
“Hold that thought.” Cheryl Beth stood and sprinted into the hall, catching up with Allison. She brought her back and introduced her to Will.
“Allison was Noah’s girlfriend,” she said. The girl sat, but upright in apprehension, and Cheryl Beth thought about breaking the news to her easy, she was very good at that. But, no, she would trust Will.