Chapter 46
Vaughn didn’t find anything relevant on the dark web. Two snuff films, at least one of which was likely a fake, but no game shows. But this wasn’t his domain. Vaughn had just reached out to Bowes to ask him to do a deeper dive when Horowitz called.
“I’m here with Perry’s car.”
“Good. I’ll meet you downstairs.”
Horowitz must have also called Delaney because he was already outside.
“Found that ad you were looking for,” Horowitz said.
He passed Vaughn a piece of paper. With gloved hands, he unfolded it.
The ad was pretty much the way that Perry described it. Simple, to the point.
Vaughn still couldn’t believe that someone—twelve someones—had fallen for the scam. The ad mentioned a streaming service, but didn’t include a name. No logos, nothing that made it appear even remotely legitimate. But money was a powerful motivator.
The most powerful motivator.
The number at the bottom was different from the one that had made the 911 call. Their unsub was using burner phones. Vaughn didn’t think that tracing the number would lead anywhere, but he relayed the phone number to Bowes via text just in case.
“Hey, can I see that?”
Vaughn gave the ad to Darnell.
Next up, Perry’s wallet.
The photo of the man on the New Jersey license was definitely the same person holed up in the interview room. Perry’s face was a little fuller, and the man’s eyes were less racooned in the picture, but it was him.
Finally, the phone. It was locked.
“Anything else in the car?”
Horowitz shook his head.
“Nothing related to either of the cases. No building materials, no receipts from hardware stores.”
“Alright, let’s go see if Perry will let us into the phone.”
The man didn’t hesitate in giving up the six digit pin.
“Did . . . did something happen to the other guy?” Perry asked hesitantly. He’d been so dazed earlier that he was only now piecing things together.
The fact that Delaney had accused him of murder. That all of this definitely wasn’t just about a game show.
“Yeah, he’s dead,” Delaney said flatly.
“He’s dead?”
“Delaney . . .”
“Dead?” Perry repeated.
They left Perry there, went back to the adjacent room. With Darnell and Delaney peering over his shoulder, Vaughn unlocked the phone. Navigated to the man’s text messages. Again, they were just like Perry said. Same wording as the texts they’d found in Aaron’s phone.
“Fuck,” Vaughn muttered.
He hadn’t thought that Perry was their guy, but things would be so much easier if he was.
“Cut him loose,” Vaughn instructed, no longer even entertaining the idea that he was their unsub.
“But—”
“Cut him loose, Delaney. If you want, have one of your guys tail him for a bit.”
Delaney straightened.
“I’ll follow him.”
Vaughn pictured Delaney in the field again, gun drawn. The last thing they wanted was for Delaney to do something stupid.
Stupider.
“No. Have Horowitz do it.”
“But—”
“I said no, Delaney. I want you to head out to the gas station where the ad was placed under Josh’s wiper—QuikTrip on Belt Line Road. See if they have security footage.”
Delaney looked as if he was going to continue the argument, but let it go. Left in a huff.
Vaughn slowly headed upstairs to his and Darnell’s shared office.
He hated murder boards. Thought they were mainly a waste of time, just something to do when a case stalls. And that’s exactly why he decided to set one up now.
Darnell helped, but was mostly preoccupied with his phone.
Vaughn started with the ad that had been left on Josh Perry’s windshield.
A copy, because for some reason, Darnell insisted on keeping the original.
Moved outward from there, printing out all the text messages as well as the transcripts from the two 911 calls.
These calls themselves were a bit of an oddity.
Whoever was behind these killings wanted the cops to know about them.
Why?
In Vaughn’s experience, most unsubs did things like this for one purpose: notoriety. He made a mental note to follow up with Bowes later regarding his search of the dark web.
Delaney, for all his faults, had put in the most hours on this case. Had done some good work, too. Identified all but one of the first ten victims, had even let their significant others know when there was a significant other to notify, which was only in three of the cases.
If their unsub had a type, it was this: male, between twenty-five and fifty years old. Low socioeconomic status. Desperate enough to accept a budget ad and play a sketchy game in hopes of winning crypto. The issue with this ‘type’ is that it applied to nearly half of the American population.
“Darnell, you think that these victims are all chosen at random?”
Darnell’s face was still buried in his phone.
“Probably. My guess is that he just put these ads in areas where he thinks desperate people hang out.”
The QuikTrip on Belt Line Road fit the bill.
“Or sends them emails.”
This was an assumption, but a fair one. They were still working on search warrants for the laptops of the other victims. Vaughn wasn’t hopeful that this would get them anywhere. Their unsub had already proven himself perfectly capable of hiding his digital fingerprints.
Vaughn continued putting photos on the board. Added images of Dr. McGill, and the three other members in the department who had access to the gas. None of those leads had panned out. He hesitated, but then added Ivy’s image, noting that her laptop had been in Treadman’s possession.
Vaughn took a step back, cocked his head.
“There’s one more name you might want to add,” Darnell said.
“Yeah? Who’s that?”
“Eugene Reeves—Ivy’s father.”