an apartment complex and nobody even noticed the smell. It’s like people these days live in cocoons or something.”
Danni was already making the connection. Three days ago was Sunday, the day she was at Whiskey River Springs. She didn’t say anything to the captain until the meeting was over.
His door was open when she walked in the office, but she knocked anyway. Captain Sam Jeffries looked up from the paperwork on his desk and smiled. He was a big man with broad shoulders and a gut to match, but he was a good leader and everybody on the task force respected him, including the FBI guys who had a tendency to respect nobody but their own.
“Good to have you back, Danni. Did you get everything taken care of?”
“Yeah, thanks. I appreciate your giving me the time off.”
“No problem. Family comes first. I know you’ve probably lost some sleep worrying about your daughter and all. What’s up?”
Danni and Sam Jeffries had worked on many cases together over the years and she considered him a friend. Danni had an idea and she needed his help. She hoped those years of friendship would come into play in their ensuing conversation.
“It’s about that murder, Captain. When did it happen exactly?”
“Sunday, late in the afternoon, about the time we were chasing around Whiskey Springs looking for our killer.”
“So he set us up.”
“Looks like it.”
“Why didn’t you tell everybody at the morning meeting? You weren’t trying to protect me, were you? I mean, I was the one who got everybody out there.”
“No, you weren’t, Danni; he was. He got us out there. And he could have used anybody to do it. It must have just slipped my mind at the meeting. The forensics from this recent murder don’t add anything to what we already know anyway.”
“She was a college student at the University of North Central Florida, wasn’t she?”
“Yeah. Just like all the rest.”
“Don’t you find it intriguing, Captain, that the murders are happening all over the city, including areas not necessarily associated with the college, yet only women who are students at the University of North Central Florida are the victims?”
“That’s pretty obvious. What’s the point?”
“These aren’t just random campus killings. The killer is setting out to kill just students from this university.”
“Okay?”
“Maybe there’s a further connection, a common class, a major, or a minor or something like that.”
“The FBI has looked into that. No pattern has emerged yet.” At least she was thinking outside the box. Besides, even though he was ten years her senior, Jeffries still enjoyed watching Danni pace back and forth in his office, her hands on her hips, her body bouncing with every step. It was more fun by a long shot than looking at the paperwork on his desk.
“Maybe it’s about him. Maybe he was a student, maybe he is a student, and some coed rejected him.”
Jeffries stood up at that point.
“The FBI has profilers looking into that type of stuff, Danni. We have to concentrate on good old-fashioned police work and find some hard evidence. Let them work on the theories.”
“We need a search warrant to get the proof.”
“What are you talking about? A search warrant for what?”
“Thomas Felton’s apartment,” Danni replied.
“Thomas Felton? Refresh my recollection. Do we have a file on him?”
“I do.”
“Get it.”
The file was on top of her desk. Danni had figured he might want to see it when she brought up the issue. She returned moments later and handed it to him.
“He’s the law student who was in Utah during the serial killings there, and he’s now here.”
“Didn’t we already check him out?” Jeffries asked.
“We spoke to him a couple of times but that was it.”
“Well, it says here that he went to undergraduate school in Utah and came here to go to law school. He came a year ago to establish residency because the tuition is cheaper here for in-state students than it is in Utah. Danni, you verified that his story was true. Isn’t that right?”
“Yeah.”
“So what would be our basis for a search warrant?”
“He fits a portion of the eyewitness description, at least that portion that could not be disguised.”
“And that is?”
“He’s tall, thin, and he’s got fine features—a straight nose, thin lips.”
“That’s it? How do we know the killer was in disguise when he tried to kill that young girl? What was her name?”
“Stacey Kincaid. We don’t know for sure, but we have enough evidence to make the assumption.”
“What’s that?”
“He eventually killed Stacey in St. Petersburg at a party. If