Below the Bones (Widow's Island #5) - Kendra Elliot Page 0,7

out a laptop and files.

“I want to see the burial site tomorrow. I have a forensic anthropologist arriving in the morning, and he’ll organize the rest of the excavations,” he said. “But for now, the pictures you sent have me ninety-nine percent convinced that this is related to the Lamb murders.”

Cate silently agreed.

“But are we looking at a copycat or more of his victims?” Tessa asked.

“That’s the big question.” Mike opened his computer. He glanced past Cate, and his shoulders jerked as his gaze locked on something. “Christ. That startled me.”

Cate turned around, knowing what she’d see. Ghost perched in an empty spot on the dark bookshelf several feet behind her, the cat’s black fur blending with his surroundings and his golden eyes glowing. “That’s Ghost. The bookstore has been his home forever.”

Ghost meowed in agreement.

Mike shook his head and focused on the laptop.

“How was Jeff Lamb originally caught?” Tessa asked.

Cate forced herself to stay quiet and let Mike answer.

Not my investigation.

“We found a fingerprint on one of the lockets,” answered Mike. “A perfectly centered thumbprint.” He gave Cate a rueful look. “Remember that? We were positive he was being cocky or trying to mislead us. There’d been no prints on the others.”

“I assume his prints weren’t in any databases?” Henry asked.

“Nope. All it did was frustrate us for a long period of time. A tip from someone who used to own property near the bodies brought Jeff to our attention. She’d dated him a few years before, and they’d often hiked near the burial site. She said he’d been engrossed with—”

“The rock,” Cate choked out. “I’d forgotten that part.” She clapped a hand to her forehead. “I was sitting on a similar one this morning. I thought it’d be a great place to sunbathe.” She shuddered.

How could I forget?

“There’s a rock near the new graves that would serve his purpose?” Mike asked sharply.

“What purpose?” asked Tessa, looking from Cate to Mike.

“An altar to pose his victims on,” Cate said softly. “Long . . . flat . . . it’s where he took a lot of their photos before killing them.” She briefly closed her eyes, remembering the hard surface of the rock from that morning.

Were there any dark stains?

She hadn’t paid attention. A shudder rolled up her spine.

“Anyway, this former girlfriend said he’d taken photos of her on a rock near where the bodies were found,” Mike said. “Normal photos—fully dressed. But she asserted that he’d fixated on the rock in such an odd way it’d stuck with her. He’d joked that she should take her clothes off to pose on the rock, which disturbed her.”

“I trust that’s when she dumped his ass,” Tessa said, crossing her arms.

“He’d also told her it looked like a sacrificial altar. We never released information that the photos of the murdered women had been taken on that rock, but when she learned the bodies had been found nearby, she called.”

“Your investigation went on for almost six months,” Henry said. “Why did she wait so long to come forward?”

“She’d moved to Arizona. Wasn’t aware of the case.” Mike wrinkled his forehead and looked at Cate. “A family member eventually mentioned it to her, right?”

“A friend who still lived in Washington,” corrected Cate.

“That’s right,” said Mike. “Our witness said she’d broken up with him soon after the photos were taken, but we decided it was a good lead and started to watch Jeff Lamb.”

“He was a manager at a local winery,” Cate added. “Everyone there seemed to like him. We wanted to get his fingerprints before moving forward.” She grinned at Mike. “I remember you and I did wine tastings three days in a row, hoping Jeff would wait on us so we could get his prints off a glass.”

“We weren’t the only ones.” He smiled back at her.

He doesn’t make my stomach flutter anymore.

“What would you have done if the thumbprint didn’t match?” Henry asked. “You said it could have been a fake.”

“We would have eventually questioned him,” said Mike, “but we got lucky when the thumb matched.”

“Very lucky,” agreed Cate. “It helped everything fall into place.”

“What was his motivation?” asked Henry.

“We never were certain,” said Mike. “He wouldn’t say, but we had a few theories. We do know he found his victims through the winery. Most of them were from out of town. He’d get their addresses when they signed up for the wine club or some other promotion. I know he really enjoyed the stalking process.”

“Absolutely he did,” said Cate. “That was