Where the Blame Lies - Mia Sheridan Page 0,58

He will watch every news conference, including the one today. He will read every article, every blog post on the crimes. They are very important to him. He will derive much satisfaction through them. Because of this, you may address him and rest assured he’s listening from wherever he is.”

Detective Pickering paced once, lacing his fingers behind his back. “Now to the man you’re looking for. I believe he is in his late twenties or early thirties. Caucasian.” He glanced around. “By a wide margin, serial killers target those of their same race. He has a vehicle, most likely a low-level job where he performs well yet keeps to himself. He grew up in an abusive household, most likely with an absent or emotionally checked-out father and an aggressive mother. He blends in well on a college campus, and he has access to a computer.” The man paused, looking around. “He’s very organized. Well put together. Clean. He is intelligent, and he is purposeful. Know this, detectives—you will likely only find what he wants you to find.”

Zach wasn’t sure that profile advanced them any further in the case, but it was still good to have confirmation of what he and Jimmy had already determined. And as more evidence emerged, he knew the profile would expand. He nodded at the retired detective as he again took a seat. He considered the fact that the part about the absent father and the aggressive mother applied to Josie Stratton as well. It was a constant wonder to him how one human being rose above bad circumstances, while another who had experienced almost the exact same thing, became either a victim or a predator. What was that certain something in a person that gave them the strength to overcome what others could not? He sighed. He supposed if he had that answer, he could bottle it and fix the world.

Too bad humans were far more complex than a one-elixir-fits-all.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I know this has been a quick briefing, but we’ll reconvene here tomorrow with any updates. We’re also in the process of looking at similar crimes in other states. Detectives Copeland and Keene are the main points of contact on this case. But they’ll need your assistance as, along with the Oxford Department, they’re also ensuring the safety of Josie Stratton, who may or may not be a target of this copycat. Like I said, this case is going to have a lot of eyes on it, and political ramifications. We cannot afford to bungle this investigation. Not only that, but our city deserves our very best effort here.” He looked pointedly around the table, his eyes landing on Zach.

“Let’s get this maniac off our streets.”

**********

The house in Indian Hill was large and luxurious. Zach pressed the doorbell and heard the chime echoing from within, looking off behind him at the immaculately manicured lawn. A man pulled the door open, his expression stoic.

“Councilman Bellanger.” He flashed his badge. “I’m Detective Copeland with the Cincinnati Police Department. We spoke on the phone.”

The man whom Zach recognized from seeing him on the news and around the courthouse nodded, pulling the door open so Zach could enter. “My wife is in the living room with family,” he said. “If you’d wait in here”—he pointed into a room that looked like an office but also featured a sitting area—“I’ll get her.”

Zach entered the room, taking a seat in one of the chairs facing the small sofa. He could hear the low whisper of conversation from another part of the house, and another moment later, footsteps moving toward the room where he waited. He stood, turning as Julian Bellanger entered, his hand on the elbow of a slim woman with blonde hair pulled back into a bun. Her eyes were swollen and rimmed in red. Mr. Bellanger led his wife to the sofa where they both sat across from Zach.

“I’m so sorry for your loss,” he said.

Mrs. Bellanger winced slightly and dabbed at her nose with the crumpled tissue in her hand. “Thank you, Detective.”

“I won’t take much of your time. I just have a couple of questions I need to ask you so we can find the person who did this to your daughter.”

Mrs. Bellanger made a quiet mewling sound and brought her hand to her mouth, and Mr. Bellanger put his arm around her, pulling her close to him. Zach gave them a moment.

“Whatever we can do,” Mr. Bellanger said once his wife had composed herself,

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