Hide & Seek - Nicole Edwards Page 0,52
he said simply.
“Not complainin’,” Reese said. “Just curious. So there is a crime scene?”
“I’m still confused on that. They’ve got a general area.” Brantley steered the SUV onto Mockingbird Lane. They would drive right past the lake on the way to the precinct.
“Is it secured?”
“One can only hope.” Brantley hadn’t yet worked with DPD, but he prayed like hell they had a handle on their cases.
“These other women … what makes the mayor think they’re related if the detective doesn’t?”
“Location, I think. According to what JJ got from Collins’s notes, the four women who’ve gone missin’ were all joggers, and after they disappeared, their cell phones were found with their headphones sittin’ neatly on top of them.”
“This guy wants them to know he’s the one takin’ them.”
“That’s my assumption, too.” Brantley glanced over. “Only problem is, they didn’t find a cell phone for the recent victim. So it’s a big possibility it’s not related.”
“Well, let’s assume it is. Does Collins have any leads?”
“Nothin’ concrete. Despite them rampin’ up video surveillance in the area, they’ve yet to catch any of the women comin’ or goin’. But most of the cameras are set up in the parkin’ areas. Since these women have all lived close enough they could walk, we don’t know where he comes into contact with them, but he’s abducting them somewhere along their path.”
“And no one’s seen anything?”
Brantley wasn’t surprised by Reese’s doubt. “No.”
“It’s a popular jogging trail?”
“From what I understand, yes. But it winds around, and the cell phones’ve been found in areas that aren’t visible from the busy streets that surround it.”
The conversation waned until they made it to the police precinct only for them to learn that Detective Collins had stepped away but he would be returning any minute now.
“Fine time for him to take a lunch break,” Reese muttered under his breath.
“We can always go introduce ourselves to the man’s boss.” Brantley certainly wasn’t above escalating when the situation warranted it.
It took asking a few people, but they finally learned which direction to go but before they got to their destination, they were approached by a dark-haired man wearing a light blue pin-striped shirt that was a size too big, the cuffs rolled up to his elbows, his dark blue tie partially undone.
“You Brantley Walker?”
“I am,” Brantley confirmed. “And you are?”
“John Collins,” he said, offering a hand. “Right this way.
Brantley wasn’t sure what to make of the man, but he decided to give Detective Collins the benefit of the doubt. They followed him to his desk where he dropped down into his chair and began rummaging through folders, stopping when he found one with Henderson scribbled on the front.
“Mind if I take a look at that?” Brantley asked, nodding at the case file. “Do you think these women are targeted specifically?”
He passed it over but didn’t look Brantley in the eyes.
“We’ve found no link between them,” the man said, leaning back in his chair. “They live in neighborhoods that border the lake but not the same neighborhood. We don’t have much on Jody yet, but as far as the other three go, I haven’t even been able to put them at so much as the same coffee shop.”
While he spoke, Brantley assessed him. Figured Collins for somewhere in his mid- to late-forties. Dark hair, receding hairline, dark eyes that showed a good many lines, a few days’ worth of stubble on his jaw, unkempt to say the least. It was possible the stress of the job had made him age faster. Based on the disarray on his desk and the wrinkled state of his clothing, Detective John Collins was buried beneath cases. Why would they choose to assign this case to him, Brantley wondered.
“Your notes said they’re sticklers for routine,” Baz stated, stepping forward to look at the other files. “Did they jog at the same time every day?”
“Yes.” Collins picked up another file. “Shelly and Debbie ran in the early mornings, like Jody. Maria in the evenings, after dark.”
“Shelly Masters , Debbie Struthers, and Maria Espinoza?” Baz asked, raising the files he was holding.
Detective Collins nodded.
“Any similarities between the women? Does he have a type?” Trey inquired.
“They couldn’t be more different,” Detective Collins said, tossing the file back on the desk. “Shelly’s Caucasian, five foot three inches, blond hair, blue eyes. Maria’s Hispanic, five foot seven inches, dark brown hair, dark brown eyes. Debbie’s African American, five foot five with black hair and light brown eyes.”
Brantley saw the way Detective Collins spoke of these