The ME crouched beside her.
Cadence pulled on her gloves. She schooled her expression and bent near the victim. She could easily see the bruises on the woman’s throat. Carefully, she tilted the blonde’s head. More bruises were behind her ears.
“Her eyes are bloodred,” said Kathy Warren, the chief—okay, only—ME in Maverick. The young doctor was in her midthirties and had short black hair. Kathy lifted one of the woman’s eyelids so Cadence could see for herself.
She didn’t flinch at the sight of that blue eye stained red. Cadence had stopped flinching long ago. When the killer had been strangling the woman, blood had been forced into the sclera, the white portion of the eye. A classic sign of strangulation.
Cadence studied the body’s rigor. “She hasn’t been dead long.”
“No, she hasn’t,” the ME agreed softly, sadly.
Just a few hours. The killer had been denied Christa, so he’d chosen another victim.
“You weren’t what he was looking for,” Cadence whispered to the dead woman.
The ME glanced up, frowning.
Cadence turned away from the body. Strangulation. She could see the act so easily in her mind. A woman, screaming—and a man’s hard hands stopping those screams forever.
The perp had picked the wrong woman.
Cadence slid off her gloves and reached for her phone. Kyle needed to know what was happening. Because it sure looked like their killer was losing his control. He was breaking his own patterns.
Becoming even more dangerous.
No one at the bar remembered Christa’s regular customer. The bar had been dark, too crowded. The guy who’d sat in Christa’s booth hadn’t stood out to any of the staff.
A crime tech was dusting for prints at the table. Only the table had been washed down, and cleaned too f**king thoroughly, just after closing time.
Kyle shoved open the bar’s door. Stalked outside into the blinding sunlight.
The Dodge Charger had vanished. His witness was dead. The killer was still on the loose.
And he’s going to hunt again.
His phone vibrated in his pocket. He yanked it out. “McKenzie.” The word growled with frustrated fury.
“We’ve got another body.” Cadence’s voice was soft where his had been snapping.
Another body.
“A blonde female was just found behind an abandoned diner.” She rattled off the address. Her voice sounded hollow. “Can you meet me there?”
“Is this his?” Their perp didn’t kill and dump a body so quickly.
He also hadn’t shot a victim, not until that morning. Not one we know about.
“She was a single woman, traveling alone, killed during the night when our killer was in the vicinity.” Voices murmured in the background. “Until I learn otherwise,” Cadence said, her words still soft and completely lacking emotion, “I’m thinking it’s him.”
He hadn’t seen Cadence, not since she’d raced away with the ambulance and the sheriff.
There’d been so much blood then.
“Cadence.” He walked away from the building, hunched his shoulders. “Are you okay?” Her voice worried him. Yeah, Cadence was controlled, but this was different. She’s too cold.
“I hadn’t felt hope in a long time,” she said, her words even softer now. So soft he had to strain in order to hear it. “It’s hard to find something, then to lose it immediately.” She cleared her throat. “I’m at the scene. Meet me here?”
“On the way.” On the f**king—
The line was dead.
He rushed for his vehicle. Another body. If the kill at the diner was his, then the perp could be breaking down. Losing control.
It would explain why he’d gone after Christa with his gun. The gun wasn’t his weapon of choice, so maybe he’d misfired. Hit the sheriff first, then finally managed to eliminate Christa.
A perp who lost control was sloppy. He’d leave evidence behind. Like the shoe print. Size twelve. Men’s. An uncontrolled perp would be easier to catch.
A man like that was also much, much more dangerous. Unpredictable. The pattern of his kills could change.
There would be no dormant time for him, no cooling down between kills.
A bloodbath could be heading their way.
Kyle jumped into the vehicle. Punched the address in his GPS and hoped he wasn’t about to start following a trail of bodies.
Kyle stared down at the blonde as a tech took her picture, cataloging the scene behind the old diner.
The woman’s hair was blonde, falling just below her shoulders, and she was young. It looked like she’d been as young as Maria had been when his sister vanished.
Her hands were beside her, palm up.
She looked weak. Broken.
“Asphyxiation,” Cadence said as she stood behind him. “There’s petechial hemorrhaging in both eyes.”
He hadn’t seen the victim’s eyes. Hadn’t gotten close enough to touch her. “How long did it take for her to die?”
Cadence’s breath rasped out softly. “Her windpipe was crushed. She would have died within a few minutes.”
Strangulation was all about control. He’d worked a serial case hunting a strangler months before. Controlling the breath that your victim took could be the ultimate power trip.
They already knew their perp wanted power.
“If this is our guy, why didn’t he take her?” Why kill her and dump her so soon? That wasn’t his MO.
“There’s bruising on her hands.”
“She hit him?” Maybe there was DNA.
“Based on the pattern”—Cadence’s voice was thoughtful—“I think she was pounding on a hard surface.”
Like a trunk. “Pounding and screaming,” he muttered.
The screaming would explain the strangulation.
Cadence glanced at him. “If this is our guy, he would’ve been looking for a victim, been pissed because he lost Christa.”
“Your girl drove a red convertible,” Dani said as she walked toward them. She had a tablet in her hand, was scrolling through the information there. “It was just found, at a gas station about five miles away.”
“When my sister vanished, she was driving a red convertible.” Had the guy seen her, seen the car, and remembered?
“He took her,” Kyle said, certain now. “But she wasn’t what he wanted.” She hadn’t listened to his orders. He’d had to pick the girl too fast. Did that mean you didn’t have time to screen her? To see if she’d be good enough?