at all. As far as I’m concerned, Bennett, this is your case.”
He breathed an internal sigh of relief. Bennett didn’t need Claire’s permission to investigate within the county since it was his jurisdiction, too, but it made things easier. “Thank you, Claire.”
“I’m happy to work together. During the initial investigation, did you review any missing persons cases?”
Emilia leaned forward. “Sheriff, you read my mind. I was about to ask for access. I always suspected Derrick had killed more than the three women we knew about. The murders were too well-planned, too organized. Sheriff King rejected the notion and refused access to his missing persons files.”
“I may have a new lead for you then.” She rose from her chair and walked over to the filing cabinet. Claire removed a folder. “This case is seven years old, but it fits our pattern. Alice Nelson. Twenty-two. Disappeared one week before Christmas.”
“Do you have a photograph?” Bennett asked.
Claire laid one on the desk. Bennett’s heart sank. Alice was dark-haired and pretty with high cheekbones and a wide mouth. She fit right in with the other victims. “Who reported her missing?”
“Her mother. A deputy took Mrs. Nelson's statement, but the disappearance wasn’t categorized as a high priority. Alice had a history of drug abuse and a habit of disappearing for days at a time.”
Frustration flared, and Bennett battled it back. “They assumed she was on a bender and would reappear.”
“Seems so.” Claire scanned with a finger down the sheet. “Alice was a waitress at the Blue Grill. A deputy interviewed the night manager who confirmed Alice left at midnight when her shift was over. She caught a ride with a coworker, Derrick Jackson.”
Emilia hit the desk with her hand. “This is information we needed during our previous investigation. Ooooo, I’m tempted to drive over to Sheriff King’s house and give him a piece of my mind.”
“You’ll have to wait in line.” Bennett resisted the urge to ball his hands into fists. Being angry with the previous sheriff wouldn’t help them now. Better to focus on the matter at hand. “Did a deputy interview Derrick?”
Claire nodded. “Derrick confirmed he gave Alice a ride home but insisted he had nothing to do with her disappearance. After that, the case goes cold.”
“Alice could be Derrick’s first victim.”
“That’s a strong possibility,” Claire said. “Since taking over as sheriff, I’ve gone through all the open case files for the last twenty years. Nothing else fits our pattern.”
Emilia picked up Alice’s photograph. “If Alice was the first victim, working her case could lead us to Derrick’s partner. Is Alice’s mother still alive?”
“No. I attempted to contact her so we could take a fresh look at this case. Mrs. Nelson died six months after her daughter disappeared. Heart attack. However, Alice has a grandmother who still lives in town. Marcy Nelson. I haven’t spoken to her yet.” Claire held up a finger before searching through the file. “There was also a note about Alice’s boyfriend. Hold on…Yes, here it is. John McInnis. It looks like a deputy was supposed to interview him but never did.”
“John McInnis. I know that name.” Emilia’s brow crinkled. “Where do I know that name from?”
“John manages rental properties. Chances are you’ve seen his signs around town.” Bennett rocked back on his heels. “John may have some insight into the case. It’s worth talking to him.”
Claire tilted her head. “If Alice is the first victim, why would the killers wait so long before striking again? There are seven years between her murder and the next one.”
“Maybe not,” Emilia said. “Call the surrounding counties and ask them to search their missing persons records. Specifically, we’re looking for dark-haired single women who went missing during the holidays. Derrick and his partner may have selected victims from outside Fulton County during those seven years. It would make connecting the cases harder.”
Bennett’s gut clenched. His gaze shot to the photograph of Alice. Was Emilia right? Were there more victims? If so, it meant the killer was far more deadly, far more proficient, than they’d realized.
And he was still out there.
McInnis Management was located in the center of town. Originally a home from the 1930s, it’d been converted into an office space. Emilia’s heels thumped against the wooden front porch, and then she paused to read the sign on the door. It instructed guests to let themselves in. The door handle was frigid against her bare palm.
An empty desk sat in the entrance. Two love seats and a coffee table served as a