sex. Or Dahmer—a cannibal. John Wayne Gacy—sexual assault, torture and murder. Son of Sam—told to shoot people by a dog. These killings have nothing in common. The victims have nothing in common and most likely never saw one another or frequented the same place.”
“Well, Fran Castle didn’t frequent the club we went to last night. It didn’t exist back when she was murdered.”
“No. Oh, and I got a call from Larry Stillwater. Don’t know who he talked to at the fundraiser, but he said there had been some incidents up in their area you should know about.”
“Oh?”
“No skulls, nothing so telling. But a few years back, some tourists found a bone. Everyone up there was in on it, but they never found anything other than the one bone. Two years before that, a necropsy was done on an old alligator that bit the dust.”
“And?”
“They found human remains. Too digested for DNA or anything, really. But Larry thinks someone has used the Everglades—and Seminole tribal land—for some dumping, too.”
Andrew had sheets out on the table. Axel looked at them, feeling his frustration grow.
“Five—counting Fran Castle way back. More with the bones. But then we have Hermione Shore, a young widow. Rich, but from all accounts kind and generous and well-liked. Peter Scarborough, separated, but his wife was in another state and he was a working stiff, a carpenter. No reason to hire a killer to get rid of him that we know of. We have Alina Fairchild, early thirties. Four women, one man. And as best we can tell, they were all killed quickly and cleanly and dumped.”
“We don’t know yet about Fran Castle,” Andrew reminded him.
“I’m willing to bet we find out she died by having her throat slit. With any luck, the crew out there will find more bones.”
Andrew was silent. “You seem to suspect some of Raina’s friends.”
“I’m not sure how they could be involved. When Fran Castle was killed, you and I were barely eighteen and Raina couldn’t have been more than thirteen or fourteen at the time. That means her friends were all kids back then, too. But...”
His voice trailed.
“Yeah?”
“The chaperones. Frank Peters and Loretta Oster. They were here then, and they’re still around now.”
“They were at the campsite the night Fran Castle disappeared.”
“We don’t know when she disappeared. We just know when it was reported she’d disappeared. Vinnie Magruder might know more.”
“He was first on call. The detective on the case was a man named Hank Upton. He died of cancer about three years ago. Until he got sick, he’d come out now and then. The case frustrated the hell out of him.”
“Maybe Vinnie remembers something. I’m going to talk to him, see if he can give me anything at all. Anyway, I’m off to see Jeremy. I want to know what he remembers.”
“You driving over?”
“Taking your horses, if that’s okay.”
“Yeah, sure. The horses will be happy. I’ll head back out on patrol for a while and meet you over there. You’ll ride by the area where they’re still digging. Maybe they’ve found something more.”
“Maybe.” Axel hesitated and pulled out his phone and called Angela.
“There’s must be something,” he told her, looking at Andrew as he spoke. “Something in common between these people, our victims. Hermione Shore, Peter Scarborough, Alina Fairchild and Fran Castle, and Jennifer Lowry. Angela, please, pull up everything. Reports from friends, social media, phone records—anything at all you can get. I can’t help feeling if I could find the common ground, I’d find the killer.”
Andrew nodded as he watched the call. Angela assured Axel she hadn’t stopped searching and their best techs were on it.
When he hung up, he frowned.
“What?” Andrew asked.
“Scarborough’s wife.”
“Yeah, no money involved. They’d been split up.”
“I still want to know more about her.”
“You’re thinking murder for hire again?”
“Well, why else would victims be so random, and it’s as if they’re being executed. As you said, these killings aren’t typical serial killer. So random—so quick. Kidnapping. No ransom asked ever. Just a swift death.”
He pulled out his phone again and put another call through to Angela. Scarborough’s wife had been eliminated because she had an alibi.
In most murder cases, the wife, husband or lover fell under immediate scrutiny. And the police had looked at her first. Witnesses verified the fact she’d never left her state.
But you didn’t need to be in the same state to hire a killer.
“Angela,” he said when she answered. She amazed him; there were so many agents in the field, all needing her help.