Chapter 3 #2
“Maybe with himself. Maybe with us. Maybe with God.” Harper shrugged. “I don’t know yet. But it matters to him, which means it should matter to us.”
Silas’s expression suggested he disagreed, but he didn’t argue. Good. Holloway clicked to the next image—a close-up of the symbols.
“Agent Sinclair, you mentioned victim selection. What’s the pattern?”
“Young women, early to mid-twenties. Petite build, dark hair, similar facial features. In Nevada, all three victims could have been sisters based on appearance alone.” Harper hesitated. “Has anyone compared Melissa Wagoner’s appearance to the Nevada victims?”
Holloway pulled up another photo—this one a driver’s license image of Melissa Wagoner smiling at the camera. Alive. Happy. Unaware that her life would end on a concrete floor with symbols carved into her skin.
Harper’s breath caught.
She could have been looking at Sarah Henderson. Same heart-shaped face. Same dark eyes. Same petite frame.
“Jesus,” she whispered.
“What?” Silas leaned forward despite himself.
“The similarity is stronger than the Nevada cases. Sarah, Jessica, and Pamela all looked similar, but this...” Harper gestured at the screen. “This is almost exact. He’s refining his victim selection. Getting more specific about what he wants.”
“Which is what?” Holloway asked.
Harper didn’t want to say it. Didn’t want to put the thought out into the world. But this was her job—to see the patterns, to understand the psychology, to give voice to the darkness.
“He’s killing the same woman over and over,” she said quietly. “Someone he lost. Someone he loved or wanted to love. Someone who’s either dead or inaccessible to him. He’s trying to recreate her, to possess her, to control her in death the way he couldn’t in life.”
The conference room was silent. Holloway looked troubled. Silas’s expression was unreadable.
“In Nevada,” Harper continued, “I theorized he was building toward something. That the three victims were practice. That he was working up the courage or skill to kill the real target—the woman he actually wanted.”
“And you think he’s still building?” Holloway asked.
“Or he’s found her.” Harper met Silas’s eyes.
“He stopped for five years. That kind of cooling-off period usually indicates one of three things: he was imprisoned for another crime, he moved and had to establish himself in a new location, or he found a substitute that satisfied his needs temporarily.”
“You think he moved here.” Silas’s voice was hard. “To Blackridge.”
“I think he’s been here for a while. He’d need time to scout locations, select victims, plan the logistics. This isn’t impulsive. He’s organized, methodical. The kind of killer who plans every detail.” Harper paused. “The question is why Blackridge? Why now? What changed?”
“Maybe nothing changed,” Silas offered. “Maybe he just got bored and decided to start killing again.”
“Serial killers don’t work like that—”
“Don’t.” Silas’s voice cracked like a whip. “Don’t lecture me on how killers work. I’ve hunted plenty of them.”
“Then you know that cooling-off periods this long always have a reason—”
“What I know,” Silas interrupted, standing abruptly, “is that we’re wasting time theorizing when we should be working the evidence.
Victim’s apartment needs to be searched.
Coworkers need to be interviewed. We need to establish her movements in the days before her death, identify potential suspects, canvas the area around the paper mill—”
“All of which I agree with,” Harper cut him off, keeping her voice calm. “But understanding the psychology is just as important as working the physical evidence.”
“Is that what you told Michael Ward before he died?”
The words landed like a slap. Harper felt her face go hot, then cold. Around the edges of her vision, the room seemed to dim.
“Kane!” Holloway’s voice was sharp. “That’s out of line.”
“Is it?” Silas turned to the captain, a storm brewing in his eyes and he pointed an accusing finger in her direction.
“You brought in a consultant who ignored protocol and got her partner killed. You want me to trust her judgment on this case? Fine. But I’m going to say what everyone else is thinking—how do we know she won’t make the same mistakes again? ”
Harper’s hands were shaking. She pressed them flat against the table, willing herself to stay calm, to stay professional. “You don’t,” she said quietly.
Both men went silent and looked at her.
“You don’t know I won’t make mistakes,” Harper continued, forcing herself to meet Silas’s hostile gaze.
“Because I’m human, and humans make mistakes.
Yes, I made a call that went wrong in Chicago.
Yes, my partner died because I assessed the situation incorrectly and moved too fast. And yes, I live with that every single day. ”
She stood, matching Silas’s posture, refusing to back down or appear weak.
“But I’m also the only person in this room who’s seen this killer’s work before.
I’m the only one who’s studied his patterns, his psychology, his methods.
I spent a year chasing him in Nevada. I know how he thinks.
I know what he wants. And I know that if we don’t stop him now, Melissa Wagoner won’t be his last victim. ”
“Agent Sinclair—” Holloway started.
“I don’t need Detective Kane to like me,” Harper cut him off. “I don’t even need him to trust me. But I need him to work with me. Because right now, there’s a killer in your city who’s just getting started, and we’re the only ones who can stop him.”
Silence filled the conference room. Harper could hear her own heartbeat, feel the adrenaline singing through her veins.
She’d said too much. Revealed too much. But she was so tired of people looking at her like she was broken, like she was damaged goods, like Michael’s death was a scarlet letter she’d wear forever.
Holloway cleared his throat. “Detective Kane, step outside with me. Now.”
Silas looked like he wanted to argue, but something in Holloway’s expression stopped him. He followed the captain out, and through the glass door, Harper could see them having an intense, quiet conversation in the hallway.
She sank back into her chair, suddenly exhausted. This was a mistake. She should have told Ellery no. Should have stayed in her cabin, stayed hidden, stayed away from a job that had cost her everything.
But then she looked at Melissa Wagoner’s photo on the screen. Smiling. Alive. Someone’s daughter, someone’s friend, someone who’d deserved better than to die scared and in pain on a concrete floor.
Harper owed her. Owed Sarah and Jessica and Pamela too. Owed them justice, even if she couldn’t give it to Michael.
The door opened. Holloway came back in alone.
“Where’s Detective Kane?” Harper asked. She hadn’t seen him leave.
“Cooling off.” Holloway sat across from her, his expression serious but not unkind. “Agent Sinclair, I owe you an apology. Kane’s behavior was unprofessional and unacceptable. I’ve made it clear that if he can’t work with you respectfully, he’ll be removed from the case.”
She was already shaking her head. “Captain, I don’t want to cause problems—”
“You’re not causing problems. You’re doing your job.
” Holloway leaned forward, his stare earnest. “I read the report from Chicago. I know what happened. And I also know that in your fifteen years with the Bureau, you’ve successfully closed over a hundred cases.
Your solve rate is exceptional. Your colleagues speak highly of your skills.
One tragedy—one mistake—doesn’t erase that record. ”
Harper felt her throat tighten. “Thank you.”
“That said, I need to know if you’re ready for this. It’s only been six months. If you need more time—”
“I don’t.” The words came out more forceful than she intended. Harper swallowed, paused, modulated her tone. “I need to work. I need to do something useful. And I need to catch this bastard, Captain. I’ve been hunting him for five years. I can’t let him get away again.”
Holloway studied her for a long moment. Then he nodded. “All right. You’re on the case. Full consultant status. You’ll have access to all evidence, all reports, all interviews. You’ll work directly with Detective Kane. Assuming he can keep his personal opinions to himself.”
“And if he can’t?”
“Then he’s off the case and you work with someone else.” Holloway’s voice was firm. “This investigation is bigger than any one person’s ego. Including mine.”
The door opened again. Silas stepped inside, and Harper could see the effort it took him to keep his expression neutral. He didn’t look at her as he sat down.
“Detective Kane has agreed to work with you professionally,” Holloway said. “Any issues going forward come directly to me. Understood?”
“Yes, sir,” Silas said.
“Agent Sinclair?”
“Understood.”
“Good.” Holloway pulled up a new document on the laptop. “Now let’s talk about next steps. Silas, where are we on the canvass?”
“Morris and Holt are interviewing residents near the paper mill. So far, no witnesses. The security guard who found the body didn’t see anyone suspicious, and the surrounding area is pretty isolated at night.”
“Victim’s apartment?”
“Crime scene team is there now. I’m heading over after this meeting.”
“I’d like to come,” Harper said.
Silas’s jaw tightened, but he nodded. “Fine.”
“What about The Daily Grind?” Holloway asked. “That’s where she worked, right?”
“I’ve got an interview scheduled with the manager at ten,” Silas said. “Coworkers will be available this afternoon.”
Harper made notes. “We should also pull her financials, phone records, social media activity. Look for any stalking behavior, unusual contacts, changes in routine. Serial killers often surveil their victims before abduction.”
“Already requested the phone records,” Silas said. “Financials will take longer. Social media we can access immediately.”
“I can help with that,” Harper offered. “I have tools through the Bureau for social media analysis.”