preserving it. The liquid in the jar he gave you was ethyl alcohol. The tissue in the finger hadn’t disintegrated much at all over time, and it was intact enough that we were able to run some tests.”
“And you’re sure it was Gabby’s?” I said.
She nodded.
“There’s no doubt about it Sloane, I’m sorry,” she said.
“Don’t be. He’s just trying to unnerve me.”
“Yeah well, whoever he is, he’s twisted,” she said.
“I’ll be fine. Besides, I have Taye Diggs, and I’m sure he won’t let anything happen to me.”
She crossed her arms and leaned back.
“If you say so,” she said. “But I know how you work. You take risks, and this might be one of those times you might want to consider your safety for a change.”
“So listen,” I said. “You know I’d do anything to catch this guy, right?”
“I don’t think there’s a person around here that isn’t aware of that fact,” she said.
“I want to show you something, but it’s in the vault.”
There was a twinkle in eye like I’d just given her the keys to the Magic Kingdom.
“Sweet!” she said. “Are we talking covert operations here? If so, I’m in.”
“Were talking I-don’t-want-the-chief-to-know-anything-about-it here.”
“Even better. Now I have to know,” she said.
“And you won’t say anything to anyone, right?”
“Sloane,” she said. “Wouldn’t you agree that we’re past that point in our relationship? I mean, men are fabulous to have around and they have their moments, I’m sure most women would agree. But to have a girlfriend who has your back no matter what—no guy is worth that.”
I stood up and walked over to a watercolor painting that hung on my wall. It was large, about the size of a sixty-inch flat-screen TV, and the perfect decoy.
“You called me here to discuss a painting?’ she said. “Let me guess, the artist placed something in the background, a hidden clue of some kind, like those weirded-out pictures people used to hang in their bathrooms or in the foyer, and you can’t decipher what it is which has driven you bonkers, so you called me here to figure it out for you.”
We both laughed.
I shifted my body weight to the right and looked around the corner at Taye Diggs. He manned his post outside, oblivious to the girl talk, which was just how I wanted it to be. When I was sure his eyes were focused in a different direction, I lifted the painting from its position on the wall.
“Holy crap!” Maddie said.
I smiled.
“I don’t think obsession is the right word to describe what I’m seeing here,” she said.
Behind the painting on the wall was an oversized peg board about the same height and width as the TV, and on it was every piece of information I’d come across that related to the Sinnerman murders. There were photos of his female victims, newspaper clippings I’d saved, his killing timeline, a profile I’d created on him, and anything else I felt was relevant to the case.
Maddie sprung from her chair to get a closer look.
“How long have you had this here?” she said.
“I started to piece it together bit by bit a few months after Gabby died.”
“This is, like—amazing,” she said. “I bet you have more information here than anyone else on this case.”
“I wouldn’t go that far,” I said. “I haven’t been able to get my hands on most of the evidence, not even to copy it, but I did the best I could with what I had access to.”
“I’ll say,” she said. “Nick know about this?”
I shook my head.
“No one does,” I said.
Maddie zeroed in on a white piece of lined paper I’d tacked to the wall with the killer’s criminal profile on it.
“May I?” she said.
“Go right ahead. It isn’t the same one the cops have though—I came up with it on my own.
She lifted the page from the board and read it out loud.
SINNERMAN PROFILE
MALE, AGE 35-45
METHODICAL AND ORGANIZED
SOCIOPATH
KILLS FOR POWER, POSSESSION???
ABUSED OR
“And you’re sure it was Gabby’s?” I said.
She nodded.
“There’s no doubt about it Sloane, I’m sorry,” she said.
“Don’t be. He’s just trying to unnerve me.”
“Yeah well, whoever he is, he’s twisted,” she said.
“I’ll be fine. Besides, I have Taye Diggs, and I’m sure he won’t let anything happen to me.”
She crossed her arms and leaned back.
“If you say so,” she said. “But I know how you work. You take risks, and this might be one of those times you might want to consider your safety for a change.”
“So listen,” I said. “You know I’d do anything to catch this guy, right?”
“I don’t think there’s a person around here that isn’t aware of that fact,” she said.
“I want to show you something, but it’s in the vault.”
There was a twinkle in eye like I’d just given her the keys to the Magic Kingdom.
“Sweet!” she said. “Are we talking covert operations here? If so, I’m in.”
“Were talking I-don’t-want-the-chief-to-know-anything-about-it here.”
“Even better. Now I have to know,” she said.
“And you won’t say anything to anyone, right?”
“Sloane,” she said. “Wouldn’t you agree that we’re past that point in our relationship? I mean, men are fabulous to have around and they have their moments, I’m sure most women would agree. But to have a girlfriend who has your back no matter what—no guy is worth that.”
I stood up and walked over to a watercolor painting that hung on my wall. It was large, about the size of a sixty-inch flat-screen TV, and the perfect decoy.
“You called me here to discuss a painting?’ she said. “Let me guess, the artist placed something in the background, a hidden clue of some kind, like those weirded-out pictures people used to hang in their bathrooms or in the foyer, and you can’t decipher what it is which has driven you bonkers, so you called me here to figure it out for you.”
We both laughed.
I shifted my body weight to the right and looked around the corner at Taye Diggs. He manned his post outside, oblivious to the girl talk, which was just how I wanted it to be. When I was sure his eyes were focused in a different direction, I lifted the painting from its position on the wall.
“Holy crap!” Maddie said.
I smiled.
“I don’t think obsession is the right word to describe what I’m seeing here,” she said.
Behind the painting on the wall was an oversized peg board about the same height and width as the TV, and on it was every piece of information I’d come across that related to the Sinnerman murders. There were photos of his female victims, newspaper clippings I’d saved, his killing timeline, a profile I’d created on him, and anything else I felt was relevant to the case.
Maddie sprung from her chair to get a closer look.
“How long have you had this here?” she said.
“I started to piece it together bit by bit a few months after Gabby died.”
“This is, like—amazing,” she said. “I bet you have more information here than anyone else on this case.”
“I wouldn’t go that far,” I said. “I haven’t been able to get my hands on most of the evidence, not even to copy it, but I did the best I could with what I had access to.”
“I’ll say,” she said. “Nick know about this?”
I shook my head.
“No one does,” I said.
Maddie zeroed in on a white piece of lined paper I’d tacked to the wall with the killer’s criminal profile on it.
“May I?” she said.
“Go right ahead. It isn’t the same one the cops have though—I came up with it on my own.
She lifted the page from the board and read it out loud.
SINNERMAN PROFILE
MALE, AGE 35-45
METHODICAL AND ORGANIZED
SOCIOPATH
KILLS FOR POWER, POSSESSION???
ABUSED OR
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