the excitement of another connection that might lead them forward. He wished he was at the office right that moment and could stand before the board and look at the information all at once.
When he got to the curb, he noticed Milo’s trash was sitting out waiting for the garbage men. He took a moment to lean his head around the cans and saw the recycling bin, filled to the top with empty alcohol bottles.
He wondered if the man had recently had a party. But Reed had a feeling it was something else. He had a feeling Milo was still outrunning those demons he’d mentioned.
But not by much.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Reed looked up as Jennifer slid the chair out on the other side of the table where he was sitting and sat down with a short huff.
“Hey. Thanks for meeting me here.”
“We do have to eat once in a while,” she said, smiling.
He pushed his empty plate aside. “Sorry I didn’t wait, but I was starved.” That was true, but he’d also needed to get out of that office. He felt like he’d been living there the past few days, arriving early, and staying far too late.
“Nah, you’re good. I didn’t know how long I’d be.” She removed her jacket and twisted around, hanging it on the back of her chair. “There’s so much cross-referencing to do. The few names we have from the halfway house, plus now family members of the victims. I still can’t find anything that connects our eyeless victims except that they were dirtbags, may they rest in peace.” She raised her eyebrows and shook her head. “I’m tied to the computer too. Plus, they have me running around checking out information coming in from tipsters, even the ones that are obviously phony. I wish they’d bring charges on those fools. Wasting our time that way.”
“Me too,” Reed agreed. “Usually there’s no way to prove they’re making shit up though.”
Jennifer sighed. “Yep.”
Ransom had had a family gathering that he’d taken the day off for. He’d offered to skip the function and come in anyway, but Reed had urged him not to. Eating, sleeping, and breathing the case wasn’t helpful for anyone. He had to remind himself of that too, but Ransom had a wife who deserved to see her husband now and again.
The server showed up and took Jennifer’s order, refilling Reed’s coffee cup and pouring Jennifer a cup as well.
“It feels weird,” Jennifer noted, adding sugar to her coffee. “A cluster of killings, and now almost a week with . . . nada.” She picked up her spoon and stirred her coffee. “I’m not complaining, but it feels off. These guys, they don’t just stop.”
Reed had been thinking the same thing and he nodded in agreement. Although he couldn’t help thinking of his own father. In essence, he had just . . . stopped. Bellum finivit. The words flashed in his mind, causing his stomach to roll. The war is over. He’d waged his final battle, and from all accounts, ended the war for good.
“Although,” Jennifer went on, “I suppose it does happen. Remember that rash of female sex workers who were going missing over a ten-year period, starting twenty years ago or so? I was just a kid and I remember it.” She took a sip of her coffee, setting it down and bringing her hands up, and splaying her fingers in a poof movement. “Then, nothing. That guy apparently moved on. Or died. Who knows.”
“It does happen, but I have a feeling we’re not going to get that lucky.”
“You and me both.” Jennifer drummed her fingers on the table. “I’ve been looking into that dude who jumped off the overpass. The possibly homeless one? Without an ID, it’s a dead end. No pun intended.” She drummed her fingers again. “But I don’t know, I’ve got this feeling that if we could figure out his identity, a few more things might fall into place. Maybe some kind of plan or”—she looked off to the side as if searching for the right word—“reason . . . would become clear.”
“Playbook?”
She tipped her head. “Yeah, I guess that’s a good word. There’s some specific order that I can’t figure out. But if we could, I think we could get a jump on this guy.” Her face contorted. “God, the puns just write themselves,” she muttered. “What I mean is, maybe we could save somebody’s eyeballs, and their life.”
Reed gave her a wry grimace. “We do have a few connections