Bonnie noticed that it had once again centered itself over the word no.
* * *
Miranda glanced at Bishop with a frown, trying to ignore the increasingly frequent stabs of pain behind her eyes. "Why was the killer's mistake not burying Adam Ramsay deep enough? Because we found him?"
Bishop nodded. "I don't think that boy's body was ever meant to be found—unlike the other two."
Alex said, "Granted, Kerry Ingram was found lying openly in a ravine like discarded trash, but Lynet was pretty thoroughly hidden at the bottom of that well."
"Yes, but for how long? I did a little checking, and it seems your local paper reported just a week or so ago that the property around the lake had been sold to a group of buyers from Florida who plan to build vacation homes there. Clearing off the home sites in preparation is due to start in just a couple of weeks. And according to the land surveys, one of those sites is within twenty yards of the well."
"So the body probably would have been found," Miranda agreed. "Okay. But did he want us to find the girls, or just not care whether we did?"
"You tell me," Bishop said, looking at her steadily.
"Me? How would I know?" She was practically daring him to say something about extra senses in front of Alex, and both of them knew it.
Instead, Bishop said, "You know the basics of how to profile a killer, Sheriff. Why would one victim among three be transported miles farther than the others and buried in a forest where even hunters seldom go?"
She thought about it. "Because something about the victim or the way he was killed points to the killer."
"Exactly." Bishop reached back over his shoulder and tapped his knuckles against the photographs on the bulletin board. Photographs of Adam Ramsay's remains. "He took the boy first and kept him alive longest, and when he was finished he buried the remains where he had every reason to expect they would be hidden indefinitely."
"Unfortunately, they nearly were," Alex said. "And by the time we found them, there wasn't much left. How're we supposed to find any evidence pointing to the killer when all we have are bones—and precious few of them?"
"Those bones." Miranda looked at Edwards. "Are you sure there isn't something you can tell us now about those bones, Doctor?"
"Sheriff, to be honest, all I have is a hunch—and it's pretty far out. I need a few days to finish my tests. All I can tell you right now is that the Ramsay boy's bones had been ... altered."
"Aged," Miranda said.
Edwards nodded. "Artificially aged."
Alex said, "Why, for God's sake?"
"That's the question, isn't it, Deputy? Why—and how. I hope to find those answers, but I need time."
"I hope we have time," Miranda said. "But if Lynet was a mistake, killing her might have altered his needs and his rituals in ways we can't begin to understand let alone predict."
"He could be hunting again," Harte said. "And since we all seem to be having hunches, another one of mine is that he's looking around for his next victim even as we speak."
"In a county with several thousand teenagers." This time, Miranda didn't stop herself from rubbing her temples. "Shit. At the very least, I'm going to have to declare a dusk-to-dawn curfew for everybody under eighteen, try to keep the kids at home, at school—and off the streets."
"I doubt you'll get an argument," Alex told her. "Except from the kids, of course. The mayor will be thrilled to announce any action that sounds like he's helping to keep the town safe."
Miranda sent him a faint smile, then glanced at her watch. Addressing the three agents but looking only at Edwards, she said, "I don't know if you three plan on working tonight, but I do know the cafe and most of our better restaurants will be closing in less than two hours. If you want my advice, you'll go get something to eat while you can."
"Sounds like a good idea to me." Harte stood up and stretched. "If I don't get something besides caffeine in my system, somebody'll have to
* * *
Miranda glanced at Bishop with a frown, trying to ignore the increasingly frequent stabs of pain behind her eyes. "Why was the killer's mistake not burying Adam Ramsay deep enough? Because we found him?"
Bishop nodded. "I don't think that boy's body was ever meant to be found—unlike the other two."
Alex said, "Granted, Kerry Ingram was found lying openly in a ravine like discarded trash, but Lynet was pretty thoroughly hidden at the bottom of that well."
"Yes, but for how long? I did a little checking, and it seems your local paper reported just a week or so ago that the property around the lake had been sold to a group of buyers from Florida who plan to build vacation homes there. Clearing off the home sites in preparation is due to start in just a couple of weeks. And according to the land surveys, one of those sites is within twenty yards of the well."
"So the body probably would have been found," Miranda agreed. "Okay. But did he want us to find the girls, or just not care whether we did?"
"You tell me," Bishop said, looking at her steadily.
"Me? How would I know?" She was practically daring him to say something about extra senses in front of Alex, and both of them knew it.
Instead, Bishop said, "You know the basics of how to profile a killer, Sheriff. Why would one victim among three be transported miles farther than the others and buried in a forest where even hunters seldom go?"
She thought about it. "Because something about the victim or the way he was killed points to the killer."
"Exactly." Bishop reached back over his shoulder and tapped his knuckles against the photographs on the bulletin board. Photographs of Adam Ramsay's remains. "He took the boy first and kept him alive longest, and when he was finished he buried the remains where he had every reason to expect they would be hidden indefinitely."
"Unfortunately, they nearly were," Alex said. "And by the time we found them, there wasn't much left. How're we supposed to find any evidence pointing to the killer when all we have are bones—and precious few of them?"
"Those bones." Miranda looked at Edwards. "Are you sure there isn't something you can tell us now about those bones, Doctor?"
"Sheriff, to be honest, all I have is a hunch—and it's pretty far out. I need a few days to finish my tests. All I can tell you right now is that the Ramsay boy's bones had been ... altered."
"Aged," Miranda said.
Edwards nodded. "Artificially aged."
Alex said, "Why, for God's sake?"
"That's the question, isn't it, Deputy? Why—and how. I hope to find those answers, but I need time."
"I hope we have time," Miranda said. "But if Lynet was a mistake, killing her might have altered his needs and his rituals in ways we can't begin to understand let alone predict."
"He could be hunting again," Harte said. "And since we all seem to be having hunches, another one of mine is that he's looking around for his next victim even as we speak."
"In a county with several thousand teenagers." This time, Miranda didn't stop herself from rubbing her temples. "Shit. At the very least, I'm going to have to declare a dusk-to-dawn curfew for everybody under eighteen, try to keep the kids at home, at school—and off the streets."
"I doubt you'll get an argument," Alex told her. "Except from the kids, of course. The mayor will be thrilled to announce any action that sounds like he's helping to keep the town safe."
Miranda sent him a faint smile, then glanced at her watch. Addressing the three agents but looking only at Edwards, she said, "I don't know if you three plan on working tonight, but I do know the cafe and most of our better restaurants will be closing in less than two hours. If you want my advice, you'll go get something to eat while you can."
"Sounds like a good idea to me." Harte stood up and stretched. "If I don't get something besides caffeine in my system, somebody'll have to
Similar Books
