Terrorbyte by Cat Connor

her back in a pool of bourbon and congealing blood. Lines from my poem were written around her kitchen cabinets in black pen.
    Flashes went off as the photographer did her thing. They reflected oddly in the thick blood pool, casting unusual patterns, swirls and brilliant spots of light with radiating beams. For a second I thought the victim would have liked the pretty patterns. The gold ribbon around her neck made the whole scene appear oddly festive.
    â€œWhat do you think that means?” Lee muttered, sidestepping to get out of the photographer’s way.
    â€œIt means this is becoming more personal,” I replied. “Or it began personal and we’re looking at it out of sequence.”
    My mind wandered back to a conversation with Mac in our home, the night of the fundraiser. The night he talked of children and I reminded him that our gene pool needed cleansing. Crime scenes with chlorine; notes suggesting cleansing; I am a potential carrier of mental illness. How could the Unsub know that?
    â€œTimeline?”
    â€œWe can’t be sure until forensics get back to us. But so far, this is looking like the first. So Sophie Gendell is victim one, then Julie Trevalli in Richmond, then Christine Campbell up in Alexandria and Laura Amos in Herndon.”
    I nodded. “How many days between Sophie and Christine? Just a guess, Lee.”
    He rocked on his heels, lines of thought working themselves into his forehead. “It’s warmish, so maybe only a few days. No more than four, I’d say.” The lines smoothed as he smiled at me.
    â€œFour sounds about right.” Satisfied that the Unsub didn’t somehow overhear a conversation in my home, I turned my attention back to Sophie Gendell. This was not how someone’s life should end. I knelt down next to her, carefully avoiding the blood and bourbon mix. I leaned as close as I could to her face and breathed in.
    Chlorine.
    I whispered, “I’ll find the person responsible so you can rest in peace.”
    Mac’s hand reached down to help me stand. “Did you say something?”
    I straightened my jacket and shook my head. I noticed how none of us wanted to mention the new addition to the crime scene: an extra gold ribbon lacing the victim’s mouth shut and tied off in a perfect bow.
    What’s with the fuc’n bows?
    He’d taken time and care over this crime, more time than he’d taken at any of the others. There was an entirely different feel to it. But I couldn’t explain that in an evidential way. Everything pointed to this being the first murder. This is where it started. A series of small electrical impulses caused my spine to tingle and the watching began. Eyes were following me yet there were none to see.

Chapter Ten
Welcome To Wherever You Are
    Two hours later, we were on the road. Midnight had been and gone, but it failed to take the horror with it. Tuesday wasn’t shaping up to be much better than Monday.
    Lee and Sam were a half hour ahead of us because I’d stopped at the cemetery to visit mom. Amidst torrential rain and frenzied gales, I slogged through the darkness and located her gravestone; I confirmed she apparently was still in the ground. It wasn’t really a visit; it was more like a curfew check. I conducted them periodically. It made me feel better knowing where she was.
    We headed back up north. I hadn’t intended leaving Richmond so quickly but the growing storm made delaying travel impossible. I hoped I’d garnered enough information from the crime scenes in Richmond to help our investigation. Poor Mac: packed a bag and drove all the way down to help out with the investigation, only to drive all the way back a mere couple of hours later. Such is life within team chaos.
    A familiar tugging in my gut made me very aware of one similarity between Jack Griffin and this new sicko. He seemed to like to travel, to spread his crime scenes over a wide area. I restricted