Drained (Edgars Family #6) - Suzanne Ferrell Page 0,61

with worry and resignation.

“This killer is methodical, precise, organized. Practiced. He has a routine.”

“Cleaning the bodies thoroughly,” she said, understanding what he meant. “Isn’t that just to hide any trace evidence?” Watching crime scene shows these past three years at least let her have the right terminology.

“It does provide that benefit—”

“Benefit for him,” Jaylon interrupted. “Makes it damn hard on us.”

“It’s also part of his ritual.” Carson held up his hand before anyone could interrupt again. “Not ritual as in a cult or religious or satanic one. No, this is part of his psyche. He has to cleanse them. Think about it. He’s picked homeless people. People who don’t have access to daily hygiene. People living on the edges. People no one is looking for.”

“So, he’s saving them?” Stedaman asked.

“No, he’s reclaiming them,” Aaron said. “He’s harvesting their blood. Then he’s cleansing them and dressing them back into clothing that signifies what they once were.”

“Art was a war veteran,” Brianna said, understanding where Aaron was going. “Something he should’ve been proud of. Mia had the potential to be a great violinist.”

Aaron nodded. “So, he cleans them, dresses them and poses them for us to find.”

“This is all a good assumption, but if that’s his pattern and if he’s done this before, why haven’t we found more bodies posed all over town?” the captain asked.

“Because he’s escalated to this,” Carson answered.

“Escalated?”

“He’s perfected his abduction and killing routine—that much we know from the two bodies we’ve found. But something triggered him to begin showing off his work.” Carson fixed his gaze on Brianna.

“Me?” She paused. “No, it was Paula and Stanley going out to search for Art.”

The profiler nodded. “Before, his victims were homeless people that had simply disappeared.”

“Because no one goes looking for homeless people,” Jaylon said.

Again, Carson nodded. “But suddenly someone was looking for a missing homeless person.”

“Paula,” Brianna whispered.

“And Stanley,” Aaron said. “Stanley who we believe was with Art when he was taken.”

“How does our killer know Paula was looking for Art?” Stedaman asked.

“I think the answer to that is another question. Where was Paula doing her search?” Carson said, once more focusing on Brianna.

“She was hitting all the shelters in the area of town where she lives and near the shelter where she works serving food twice a week.”

“You think our killer may be involved in the homeless community somehow,” Aaron said. “That he heard Paula and the dog were looking for his owner.” He paused and Brianna’s heart sank at the change in his expression. “Or that he saw her doing the search.”

“Yes.”

“Who did you say you’re working for?” The fortyish short white woman stared at Kirk over the rims of her glasses.

Bristling at her condescension, he fought the urge to mouth off something sarcastic. This was the fourth blood donation place he’d been to today and damn if everyone didn’t eye him as if he was the killer sucking the blood out of folks. You’d think he’d get used to it. Being eyed suspiciously just because his skin was darker than theirs. He’d never done anything illegal or even questionably close, not even a speeding ticket, but he always had to defend his actions for being somewhere someone else didn’t think he had the right to be.

That was one of the reasons he was studying criminal justice in college. He’d talked a lot about being a black male in America with Castello. Okay, he did a lot of talking, the big guy just listened and occasionally asked a good question. All that talking and questioning, led him to believe that he had choices and the choices he made now would affect not only him and his future, but the future of others. He also knew that to truly make a difference, he’d have to work within the system.

One of the first things he decided he needed to do was to learn. Learn about people—all kinds of people from all walks of life. Learn about the law and police procedures. To do that he’d take classes, but also spend time with the cops and other law enforcement people he’d met through Castello.

Another thing he wanted to do was figure out how to improve things for people of color. What would work, what would harm. He’d taken part in several peaceful protests over the years. The first one, Nana and some of her friends went along. Something about having a group of grandmas in the crowd kept the hotheads from becoming too aggressive. He’d even seen her maneuver