sure weren’t manicured. Her clothing was clean enough, but cheap. Turned out she was a working girl, cruising our most dangerous streets. Now, you don’t want to think the murder of anyone is a common thing, but we did think maybe she picked up the wrong john, maybe she didn’t follow through, she tried to rip him off... Something. I came on because of the violence of the crime. Because...well, because we don’t find that many murder victims missing all their organs. Naturally, once I compared notes with the lead detective in Alexandria, we talked to the Feds, and here you are, and we have our third victim.”
Keenan nodded. “I’ll be playing catchup,” he said. “Obviously, I know something about what has gone on, but not all the details. Doc Beau, you were called to the scene of the first murder, right?”
Dr. Beau Simpson was still staring at the current victim, taking in every little detail. Police photographers had moved off; crime-scene investigators were prowling the area, but Lafayette Square was traveled constantly by tourists as well as locals like their witness, Miss Maples. While no one ever knew what amazing forensic find might prove to be an invaluable clue, Keenan doubted they’d find this killer had been careless about what he left behind.
“They’re calling this monster the Yankee Ripper,” Beau said, shaking his head. He looked at Keenan. “First murder was Jess Marlborough. Yes, ripped to shreds. Strangled, face slashed...but her throat was not slit. And none of her organs—those cut from the body—were left behind or displayed. Kidneys gone, uterus gone, liver gone. The woman was just about hollowed out. I’d never seen anything like it before. The killing did not take place where she was found—police have yet to discover where she was killed.”
“Jess Marlborough worked rough streets. She did quickies in alleys and cars, according to her friends or...coworkers,” Fred said. “From what I could get. No one wanted to talk to the police. They split and ran. They might be terrified of the killer, but they’re just as afraid of police. As far as I know, she lived in that alley. The last address she had on file with anyone anywhere was in Baltimore.”
“The second victim—in Virginia—all the details were similar?” Keenan asked.
“According to Jean Channing, yes,” Fred said. Detective Jean Channing, who worked Alexandria, was an excellent investigator. She wouldn’t miss anything, and she wouldn’t make mistakes. “And she’s even more frustrated, trying to get info on the victim. When you live in the underbelly of any city, you keep low. That girl kept low, too.”
“I didn’t autopsy the second victim,” Beau offered. “Alexandria folks were on that call. The methods and cause of death being so close, we were in touch. And yeah, from what I’ve read and discussed, it was very much the same. Enough so that we’re looking at one killer—at least, in my humble, but well-educated, opinion.”
“On Jess,” Fred said, looking frustrated, “all I managed to get from any of the girls I found near the dump site was that Jess worked a second back alley that we’ve raided over and over again. I don’t get it. They should want to talk. Does little good to stay silent.”
“Andrea Simon was the second victim—that’s the name we got on her. And since we don’t know of any other murders similar to what we’re dealing with here, we believe she was the second victim of the same killer,” Fred said tonelessly. “Detective Channing and I shared reports. She was hollowed out, too. And like Jess Marlborough, she worked rough streets, back alleys, hotels that rent rooms by the hour, cars. Jean can’t find an address on Andrea, either. Last known for her was someplace in Nevada.”
“Homeless, down-and-out women,” Keenan muttered.
“Well, they may have had homes, but no one is talking. The girls and women working those streets, they have pimps. And they’re often more scared of them than even a butchering murderer. The murderer getting them is a risk. A pimp beating the hell out of them or worse is a sure thing.”
“This could be a game changer, though,” Keenan said. “Interesting. I believe this woman will put a new spin on the victimology.” He rose.
“The slashes to her face...” Beau said, pointing to the cruel marks that tore apart what had once been a face “...those strikes were hard and sure. Not hesitant.” He was quiet a minute. “Inflicted before death, I’d say.”
“The other two victims had their faces slashed as