Spooky Business (The Spectral Files #3) - S.E. Harmon Page 0,67

“She’s got your deductive reasoning skills.”

“Shut it, Christiansen.”

Danny sent us an amused look. “All we have is a neighbor’s word that Delilah was going to take her son back. Hell, we don’t even have a body. Considering Delilah’s propensity to stay under the radar, it’s just not enough.”

“What about the new boyfriend the neighbor told you about?” Nick asked. “That Craig guy.”

“A boyfriend of two weeks?” Kevin shook his head. “I’ve had a longer relationship with my milk.”

“Looks like your milk needs to take out a protective order,” Danny murmured.

Kevin shot me a dirty look, and I widened my eyes. “What’re you looking at me for? He said it.”

“Yeah, but he wasn’t quite this mouthy before he hooked up with you,” Kevin accused.

That was… difficult to deny.

The diner door opened again, and Tabitha bustled in, clutching a thick hardcover book. Her red hair was pulled up in a high ponytail and her face was flushed. She looked way too fresh and pretty for five thirty in the morning. She brightened when she spotted us and made a beeline for our table.

“Guess what I found?” she asked by way of greeting.

Whatever it was, she looked way too fucking excited about it. Nick groaned as she pulled up a chair to the end of our booth. “I’m not reading that book.”

“It’s a yearbook, you idiot.” She opened it and started flipping through pages. After a moment, she made a sound of satisfaction and splayed the book on the table. “I think I finally found a link between all the women killed by the copycat.”

I looked at the two-page spread of a school dance, including a picture of the homecoming king and queen. “Isn’t that Lana?”

“Yes. And look under the picture.” She didn’t wait for me to look, pulling the book back across the table. “The interviewer asked her what her future goals were and she said she hoped to be a model.”

“Okay.” I looked at her blankly. “So?”

“That’s our link!” She waved at Glynna as the waitress passed. “A cup of coffee, please.”

“Decaf,” Danny said. “You want to fill the rest of us in?”

“At first, I was a little stumped. The victimology was all over the place in terms of appearance and lifestyle, and the methodology wasn’t much better,” she said. “They don’t have any friends in common, and they didn’t attend any of the same functions. Even in terms of religion, Rosy was pretty devout while Lana was an atheist—”

“I believe you were telling us what they did have in common,” I interrupted delicately.

Not delicately enough, judging from the glare she sent me. “I’ve been digging through the lives of these women with a tiny spoon and a flashlight clenched between my teeth, Christiansen. I will have my moment, if it’s all the same to you.”

I held up my hands in a peaceful gesture. “Of course.”

“As I was saying, the women were very different. But when I was looking at their pictures, I couldn’t help but notice how pretty they were. And then I found out that Lana wanted to be a model. So I followed a hunch, and it paid off.”

Her brown eyes sparkled with excitement, and I couldn’t help but feel a certain kinship with her. As an investigator, there was nothing better than when a longshot turned into a direct hit. “What’d you find?” I asked.

“I spoke with Lana’s brother to see if she’d done any modeling, and he said that she had. One day when they were in the grocery store, a woman approached her from a modeling agency.” She all but bounced in her seat. “I went through the evidence box for Rosy’s case and found a business card in her purse for Apis Modeling, Inc.”

I nodded thoughtfully. “This isn’t without precedence. Remember that photographer who lured women into his studio by promising them free headshots?”

“Trust Christiansen to know that.” Kevin rolled his eyes. “If we ever play Serial Killer Trivial Pursuit, you’re on my team.”

I wanted to zing him back, but I was too busy imagining what a fun game that would be. Reading my mind as usual, Danny chuckled. “While Rain comes up with rules for his new serial killer game, can I assume you’ve tried to contact someone at this modeling agency?”

Tabitha’s enthusiasm dimmed a tad. “Well, yes. There’s no official record of any such company. And I went to the address on the card, but it led to an abandoned orange grove,” she said, picking up my knife. She leaned over to