Ellie blinked away tears. “Let me know if she comes to. They brought in a woman who might be a victim of our killer. She’s unconscious but hopefully can tell us something when she regains consciousness.”
“Be careful, El,” her father said.
“Don’t worry about me. I can take care of myself,” she replied, her voice thick with emotion as she tore herself away from the room.
Back in the victim’s room, she got a text update from Captain Hale.
Have IDs on both Wednesday’s child and Thursday’s child. Victim three is Samantha Jennings. According to a neighbor, she cheated on her husband, triggering him to commit suicide, but instead of mourning him, she seemed relieved he was gone.
That explained the killer carving the heart into her chest—to indicate she didn’t have one.
Victim four, Thursday’s child, was thirty-two-year-old Valerie Patterson. She was accused of killing her father when she was twenty, but got probation on the grounds that he’d molested her as a child and had then tried to molest her own daughter.
Ellie hissed. That explained the Ten Commandments, although the homicide sounded justified. The lowlife man should have been castrated.
It also lent credence to their theory that this man had a God complex and assigned himself as judge, jury and executioner. But how did he have so much personal information about the victims before he’d taken them?
Turning towards the latest victim, Ellie spoke softly. “I’m so sorry for what happened to you. When you wake up and tell me who hurt you, I’ll make sure he pays.”
As Shondra’s face flashed in her mind, she had the sickest feeling that time was running out for her friend, that she was missing something. But what? Her head hurt with it all.
Derrick returned, pushing a cup of coffee into her hand. “They’re analyzing Finton’s computer. Although it’s odd that we found nothing about the trail in his place—no maps, no notes about locations and their meanings. That seems to be McClain’s territory.”
She bit down on her lower lip. Why would Cord kill those women and taunt her with the crimes? Why would he take Shondra? They’d always been friendly.
Which meant Shondra might have gone with him if he’d asked, a little voice in her head whispered.
But no…
Derrick’s phone beeped, and he checked an incoming text. “Well, this is something. We have an ID for Jane Doe.”
“Who is she?” Ellie asked, her pulse jumping.
“Her name is Kennedy Sledge.”
One Hundred Eight
Ellie gasped. “This isn’t Kennedy Sledge.”
“What?” Derrick handed her his phone. “Yes, it is. There’s a photo of her on LinkedIn with her business profile and her prints matched.”
Stunned, Ellie’s mind raced, and she quickly punched Heath’s number. “Heath, check and see if any of the victims saw a therapist. Look for the name Kennedy Sledge.”
“On it.”
“And get me her home and business address.”
“Will send ASAP.”
“What’s going on?” Derrick asked as she hung up.
“If this is Kennedy Sledge, then someone else is using her identity and credentials to see patients.” Unsuspecting women like her, who unknowingly spilled their guts to a stranger.
“How do you know that?”
Ellie spun around, her mind racing. “After what happened with my family, Shondra encouraged me to talk to a counselor. She’d been seeing one because of her family’s reaction to her sexuality.” She exhaled. No wonder he’d taken Shondra. “Oh, my word,” she muttered. “That’s how he knew all about me. What makes me tick, what triggers me, about the dolls and Hiram and Cord and my friendship with Shondra.” She’d unknowingly told the bastard everything.
She turned and looked at the unconscious woman in the bed. “He abducted the real Kennedy Sledge and used another woman to pretend to be her.”
Derrick’s eyes widened. “That means we’re looking at a female accomplice.”
One Hundred Nine
Thirty minutes later, as the police artist arrived, Ellie’s disgust at the thought of a woman helping a monster to lure and kill others intensified.
Derrick had already asked his people to analyze her computer for links to the IP address of the PC the impersonator had used. He’d also alerted her captain to search the office where Ellie had first met the woman claiming to be Kennedy Sledge.
“Was their anything distinctive about the office?” Derrick asked.
“Not really. There were credentials on the wall, and books about therapy techniques, eating disorders, I think, and one about hypnotism.”
“How about when you talked on the phone? Any sounds in the background? Traffic? A train?”
Ellie massaged her temple, where a headache was starting to fester. “Just a clock ticking.” A reminder