Chapter 17
Blade stared at the iPad screen, the geometric patterns of the fractal overlay searing his retinas. The patterns lined up exactly where his gut had told him they would. Hours of dead ends and false starts and now he had traction.
Exhaustion gave way to the energy that came with a solid lead. Or maybe it was his third cup of coffee, or the butter and sugar from the pastries working their magic. Either way, his mind sharpened, cutting through the fog of the last twenty-four hours.
Kiara’s words from that morning still rode shotgun, though. No shouting, no tears. Just that level, gentle tone of hers, steady enough to gut a man.
“You’re in love with her, Blade. You just can’t see it yet.”
He hadn’t argued, but maybe he should have. Wasn’t that what women wanted? A guy to fight for them? But the look in her eyes said it didn’t matter what he claimed. It was already over. And if he was honest with himself, he knew it was the right thing to do.
Still, he’d find a way to make sure Kiara didn’t get burned for helping them. She’d risked that nice, clean record of hers pulling the Crew file. It was the kind of favor that could cost her a career if anyone upstairs came sniffing. He owed her for that, no matter where they stood.
Later. Right now, a murderer was out there, probably planning his next move.
Wrong. They’d found his signature.
He flicked a glance at Tori. A faint smear of gauze peeked out of her sleeve where her arm had been patched.
She hadn’t noticed him watching, too deep in whatever web of data she was spinning.
They were in sync. Two investigators with a clear mission to track a highly intelligent killer who turned murder into mathematical patterns.
If they were going to catch him, Blade had to get his head in the game.
“This guy’s organized. The scene is too perfect for this to be his first time.” He tapped the image on his iPad. “We need to find out if there are other victims.”
“Agreed. Learning more about his pattern can help us figure out how he chooses his victims and what his timeline looks like,” Tori said.
“I need you to take what we know and build me a picture of the kind of unsub who would do this. Education level, background, psychological drivers, the whole package.”
“You got it.” She used a band from her wrist to put her hair up in a fast ponytail as she talked. “I’ll call Harlee and see if she can bring me some clothes.”
Blade pushed back from the kitchen island, already reaching for his phone. “I’m going to make some calls while this lead is hot. Get people moving on this.”
He scrolled through his contacts and found the number for the Florida Department of Law Enforcement’s Pattern Analysis Unit. Three rings, then a man answered.
“Kobilinsky, Pattern Analysis.”
“Larry, it’s Blade St. James, Broward Homicide. I’ve got a fractal-aligned staging thread from a homicide. I need a cross-case MO search—Florida-wide, N-DEx if possible. Give me five to ten matches with case numbers, agencies, dates, and a concise ‘why this is a match’ for each.”
“Fractal-aligned staging?” Larry’s voice sharpened with interest. “That’s a new one. What are we looking at for parameters?”
“Sharp force trauma, knife or similar weapon. Clean crime scene. Victim is a professional, lives alone, no forced entry. Scene shows extensive blood spatter, but killer took time to arrange elements in a specific geometric pattern. The staging isn’t random. It’s geometrical.”
“Okay . . .” He drew the word out.
“I know. It’s confusing.” Kobilinsky’s mind might explode if Blade started talking about dodecahedrons like Dr. Stone had.
He figured this was more of a show than tell situation.
“Just make sure to note any cases where the geometry matches the fractal overlay we pulled from the crime scene. I’ll email it over right after this call. We’ll want timelines aligned as well.”
“Got it. We’ll pull MO correlations. Weapon, staging, victimology, entry and exit patterns, and any geometric consistencies.
If we find patterns that repeat across unsolved cases, we’ll flag them.
Expect a preliminary hits list in twenty-four to forty-eight hours, with a matrix you can skim in briefing. ”
“Copy that. I’ll run it through the system and cross-reference with similar staging elements. If this guy’s been active elsewhere, we’ll find him.”
Blade ended the call and immediately opened his email, attaching the fractal overlay images from the iPad. His fingers thumped the screen as he typed a brief explanation of the geometric correlation they’d discovered.
The coffee had kicked in fully now, sharpening his focus to a razor’s edge. Twenty-four hours ago, the Florek case had felt like a dead end. Now they had a thread that could unravel an entire pattern of murders.
He glanced at Tori, who was already deep into her laptop, building the psychological profile. Her fingers flew across the keyboard, translating their discoveries into a framework that would help them understand their killer’s mind.
His phone buzzed with a text from Larry:
Got your images. Running the search now. This is fascinating. Geometric staging is rare. Will prioritize.
Blade set the phone down and cracked his knuckles. Time to see how deep this rabbit hole went.
Blade scrolled through his contacts again, finding ADA Rene Garrison’s direct line. The prosecutor answered on the second ring.
“Garrison.”
“Rene, it’s Blade St. James. I need legal guidance on a multi-jurisdictional MO search. We’ve got a potential serial with geometric staging patterns.”
“Geometric staging?” Papers rustled in the background. “That’s specific. What’s your evidence foundation?”
“Solid. Crime scene analysis shows deliberate arrangement following a geometrical pattern. We’re still processing the scene for non-victim DNA.”
“You said ‘potential’ serial,” Garrison said. “What makes you think this isn’t isolated?”
“The crime scene appears ritualistic with the arrangements. This level of organization and the geometric staging suggest experience.” Blade paced to the window, watching a kite surfer below.
“I’ve got Dr. Crew building a psychological profile, and we’re running a cross-case search through Pattern Analysis to see if there are similar murders. ”
“Smart approach.”
“Thanks. But I need to know how to handle discovery when the hits come back. If we find matching cases across jurisdictions, what’s my protocol for evidence sharing and case coordination?”
“Good question. Document everything through official channels. Any cross-jurisdictional matches need to go through the proper task force protocols. I’ll draft a memo outlining discovery requirements for multi-agency coordination.”
“Appreciate it, Rene.”
“Thank you for calling ahead, Blade. You’d be amazed how many detectives make my job infinitely harder by not asking for guidance until they’re already knee-deep in legal complications. What else?”
Blade walked back across his living room.
“I need help pursuing a warrant for Donald Florek’s office at the law firm.
CSU lifted an impression from his home office blotter that turned out to be a geometrical drawing.
The crime scene was staged to follow the pattern drawn at his desk.
We need to eliminate whether Florek drew these doodles anywhere else. ”
Rene’s silence stretched for several seconds.
When she spoke again, her tone had shifted to full prosecutor mode.
“That’s interesting. If the victim was drawing the same patterns found at his murder scene, it changes everything.
Either he was communicating with his killer, or the killer had access to his private workspace. ”
“Exactly. The law firm stonewalled us on attorney-client privilege grounds. But if Florek was documenting these patterns himself, that’s not privileged communication.”
“No, it’s not. Personal notes, doodles, calendar entries—none of that falls under privilege protection. We can craft a narrow warrant for geometric drawings, mathematical notations, and similar non-client materials.”
Blade pumped his fist. “What’s our timeline?”
“I can have a warrant application ready by noon if you get me the CSU report on the blotter impression. Include photographs, measurements, and any expert analysis on the geometric properties. The more specific we are, the better our chances with the judge.”
“Done. I’ll have Gino rush the documentation, and I’ll email the overlay we created with the victim.”
“Good. One more thing, Blade. If this pattern holds across multiple jurisdictions, we’re looking at federal involvement eventually. FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit will want in once the scope becomes clear.”
“Actually, Dr. Crew consults for BAU regularly. She can liaison when the time comes. And I’m in touch with Special Agent Sebastian Wells in the local field office.”
“Perfect. That’ll streamline coordination.” Papers shuffled again on Rene’s end. “My recommendation? Stay ahead of it. Once you hit three confirmed victims with matching MO, have Dr. Crew reach out to her contacts at Quantico. Better to bring them in as partners than have them take over later.”
“Understood. Three victims, then we loop in the feds through Agent Wells.”
“Exactly. Keep me posted on the warrant progress and any Pattern Analysis hits. This could get big fast.”
“Will do. Thanks again, Rene.”
Blade ended the call and turned back toward the kitchen, where Tori’s fingers still flew across her keyboard. Every few seconds, she’d pause to scribble notes in the margins of a legal pad. Black-rimmed glasses perched on her nose, magnifying her dark eyes as they tracked across the screen.
Since when did she wear glasses?
His mouth almost shaped a crack about the glasses, but she didn’t lift her head, apparently locking every ounce of focus on the profile stacking on her screen. Work mode. No breaking that.
He headed down the hall, pushed into his bedroom, and thumbed Gino’s number.
The line clicked alive. “Gino here.”
“It’s Blade. I need that blotter impression report expedited. Full documentation, photographs, measurements, and expert geometric analysis if you can swing it. ADA Garrison needs it for a warrant application.”
“You got it. The impression is clean. Definitely deliberate drawing, not accidental marks. I’ll have everything packaged and delivered within the hour.”
“Perfect.” Blade stood in his doorway and glanced at Tori, still absorbed in her profile work. “One more thing. Can you run a comparison between the blotter impression and our crime scene staging photos? I need to know if they’re identical or just similar.”
“Already on it. Preliminary comparison shows significant correlation, but I want to run it through some new AI software before I commit to an exact match.”
Blade smiled. Gino’s thoroughness had saved cases before. “Rush it, but don’t sacrifice accuracy.”
“Never do.”
The pieces were falling into place. Legal framework, evidence analysis, pattern recognition. All the elements needed to build a case against a killer who thought he was too clever to be caught.
Blade brushed his teeth and swiped deodorant before heading back to the kitchen. He stopped across the counter from Tori, who was still deep in her profile. With the glasses, she looked like a professor, all serious concentration and academic focus.
“I’m going to call Damien’s attorney, Janice Lebowitz. See if she’s willing to communicate with him for us.”
Tori looked up. “That’s not something you can ask over the phone.”
“It’s not?”
“First of all, we can’t risk a digital trail.” She leaned forward on her elbows. “You need to deliver this sensitive, off-the-books request in a way that leaves no electronic trace. Second, you’re asking a lawyer to risk her career and potentially her life to act as a covert operative.”
He nodded slowly. “Right.”
“We need a face-to-face meeting in a neutral location,” Tori said. “Coffee shop, her office, somewhere public but private. That’s the only professionally sound and paranoid-enough choice.”
“Paranoid-enough,” Blade said. The phrase worked. He flicked his gaze at her face. “When’d you start wearing glasses?”
“They’re blue light blocking, not prescription. Protects my eyes when I’m staring at screens for hours. I don’t always use them, just when I’m tired.”
“You should take a nap while I meet with Janice.”
“You seriously think I’m sitting this out?”
“What was I thinking?” Blade smiled and scrolled his phone to Janice’s contact. She answered on the third ring.
“Janice, it’s Detective Blade St. James, Broward Homicide. I need to meet with you about Damien Sullivan. Something that can’t be discussed over the phone.”
A pause. “That sounds ominous.”
“It’s complicated. Are you available today?”
“I have one more case on the docket at the north regional courthouse. Should wrap up in an hour, but I’m starving. Haven’t eaten all day.”
“Can we meet at that Mexican place around the corner from the courthouse? Dos Hermanos.”
“Best carnitas in the county. I can be there in two hours.”
“Perfect. See you then.”
He grinned at Tori. “See? I can charm a woman when I need to.”
“Oh please.” She rolled her eyes. “You offered food to a hungry lawyer. That’s not charm, that’s basic survival.”
“Hey, it worked.”
“Because she’s hungry, not because you’re irresistible.” Tori stood and stretched, her borrowed shirt riding up slightly. “But you’re not taking me to get tacos dressed like this.”
His undershirt, her jeans from yesterday, hair in a ponytail. She looked like she’d been through exactly what she’d been through.
“Right. Harlee’s bringing clothes?”
“Should be here soon.” Tori gathered her notes and laptop. “Then we can head out. This meeting with Janice could change everything.”
Tori disappeared down the hall. Blade planted his elbows on the counter. Now he had to figure out how to ask Janice Lebowitz, of all people, to funnel them intel. That wasn’t a playbook move. It was reckless. But options weren’t on the table.
If there really was a second murder book, the only shot at prying it loose lived in Janice’s hands.