was pacing in circles. “You’re still in Alabama, working that missing-boy case, right? Do you have some sharp contacts that can do something for us? Good, here’s what we need. You need to get in touch with the police in Alabama, Louisiana and Mississippi. Have them go back through all the girls’
effects. If they need to call the families, go out and visit the houses, do it. Have them look for a piece of paper with a poem on it. That’s right, poetry. Make sure they look in the girls’ cars, too.” He cleared his throat, his voice sounded jumpy and anxious. Baldwin could read his face—had he missed the most important clue in their case? “Especially the glove boxes. Call me back as soon as you can.”
He hung up and shook his head. “You really think this is from the killer?”
Baldwin nodded. “This guy’s playing games. Surely he wouldn’t leave us hanging with nothing to go on. The hand exchange is one clue. Let’s see if this is another.”
He took out his notebook and copied the verses, though he knew the poem by heart. It was one of the most intriguing he knew. He handed the paper off to the sheriff.
“Could you get this printed for me, please?”
“Absolutely. I’m sorry we missed it.”
“I may be wrong. But it just seems too out of place to be Marni’s.”
“Why?” asked Grimes, looking uncharacteristically perplexed.
“A girl that structured… A stray piece of paper may not be unusual in your typical car, but I can’t imagine she’d leave this lying around loose in her glove box. All of her information is separated into envelopes, there’re no stray receipts or mess.” He glanced at Grimes. Granted, the man wasn’t a profiler, but it didn’t take a genius to see that Marni Fischer was a control freak.
“Nothing else was out of place.”
The sheriff retrieved a sleeve of plastic from the crime scene kit in his trunk and slid the note into it, then handed it off to one of his deputies. The man fairly ran to his car and took off.
“We’ll know quick. I’ve got a good guy in my lab who can find anything if it’s there to find.”
“I appreciate it.” Baldwin shielded his eyes and gazed at the hospital. So far the only thing linking most of these girls was their chosen or intended profession. If there were other notes, then they might have something.
“There was no sign of foul play at Marni’s home?”
Baldwin asked.
“Not a thing. I know about the other cases, that they were taken from their houses. This one looks like she was taken right here, just as she was getting into her car. There’s another bee for your bonnet. Is there anything else? I need to get this scene cleared and get started on a rural search. I know you think this guy’s going to take her out of state, but I need to make sure.”
Sheriff Pascoe was ready to go, to get his part of the investigation under way. There was nothing more they could do here. Baldwin shook his hand and thanked him for all his help. He and Grimes went back to town in silence. Grimes parked at the motel and they walked in the strong sunshine to get food and to go over their next moves. Grimes looked rough, unshaven and red-eyed. He was taking every aspect of this case to heart. If Baldwin were to evaluate him from a psychological perspective, he’d say Grimes was teetering on the edge.
They went to Jo’s Diner, a local establishment worn with age. The entire restaurant could have fit in the lobby of their motel. Pictures of locals plastered the walls, some fresh and new, some so old and grainy that the black-and-white images merely suggested their occupant’s features. The walls were yellowed from years of nicotine, and the formerly white lace drapes drooped gray and unhappy over smeary windows. Baldwin and Grimes got looks from tired men who appeared to have grown into the stools at the counter. The smell was intoxicating, and Baldwin realized he was starved.
They sat at a metal table covered by stained and
effects. If they need to call the families, go out and visit the houses, do it. Have them look for a piece of paper with a poem on it. That’s right, poetry. Make sure they look in the girls’ cars, too.” He cleared his throat, his voice sounded jumpy and anxious. Baldwin could read his face—had he missed the most important clue in their case? “Especially the glove boxes. Call me back as soon as you can.”
He hung up and shook his head. “You really think this is from the killer?”
Baldwin nodded. “This guy’s playing games. Surely he wouldn’t leave us hanging with nothing to go on. The hand exchange is one clue. Let’s see if this is another.”
He took out his notebook and copied the verses, though he knew the poem by heart. It was one of the most intriguing he knew. He handed the paper off to the sheriff.
“Could you get this printed for me, please?”
“Absolutely. I’m sorry we missed it.”
“I may be wrong. But it just seems too out of place to be Marni’s.”
“Why?” asked Grimes, looking uncharacteristically perplexed.
“A girl that structured… A stray piece of paper may not be unusual in your typical car, but I can’t imagine she’d leave this lying around loose in her glove box. All of her information is separated into envelopes, there’re no stray receipts or mess.” He glanced at Grimes. Granted, the man wasn’t a profiler, but it didn’t take a genius to see that Marni Fischer was a control freak.
“Nothing else was out of place.”
The sheriff retrieved a sleeve of plastic from the crime scene kit in his trunk and slid the note into it, then handed it off to one of his deputies. The man fairly ran to his car and took off.
“We’ll know quick. I’ve got a good guy in my lab who can find anything if it’s there to find.”
“I appreciate it.” Baldwin shielded his eyes and gazed at the hospital. So far the only thing linking most of these girls was their chosen or intended profession. If there were other notes, then they might have something.
“There was no sign of foul play at Marni’s home?”
Baldwin asked.
“Not a thing. I know about the other cases, that they were taken from their houses. This one looks like she was taken right here, just as she was getting into her car. There’s another bee for your bonnet. Is there anything else? I need to get this scene cleared and get started on a rural search. I know you think this guy’s going to take her out of state, but I need to make sure.”
Sheriff Pascoe was ready to go, to get his part of the investigation under way. There was nothing more they could do here. Baldwin shook his hand and thanked him for all his help. He and Grimes went back to town in silence. Grimes parked at the motel and they walked in the strong sunshine to get food and to go over their next moves. Grimes looked rough, unshaven and red-eyed. He was taking every aspect of this case to heart. If Baldwin were to evaluate him from a psychological perspective, he’d say Grimes was teetering on the edge.
They went to Jo’s Diner, a local establishment worn with age. The entire restaurant could have fit in the lobby of their motel. Pictures of locals plastered the walls, some fresh and new, some so old and grainy that the black-and-white images merely suggested their occupant’s features. The walls were yellowed from years of nicotine, and the formerly white lace drapes drooped gray and unhappy over smeary windows. Baldwin and Grimes got looks from tired men who appeared to have grown into the stools at the counter. The smell was intoxicating, and Baldwin realized he was starved.
They sat at a metal table covered by stained and
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