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Authors: Susanne Matthews
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initialed the report and shut the Green murder folder, leaving Mary’s file separate and moving on to the thick Harvester file containing the information on the first three victims. There wasn’t anything but his sketchy report on the fourth. Once they identified her, they’d add more information to the pile they had. Hell of a thing when you had four bodies and not one damn lead.
After they’d found the second of the Harvester’s victims, a BAU analyst had speculated on the ritual aspects of the crimes, and the theories ranged from simply a thorough way to ensure no evidence was left behind to human sacrifice. Satanism, cults, you name it, they’d discussed it, but without more evidence … They still didn’t have a clue, but victims number three and now four appeared to have been treated the same way.
Each body had been washed in bleach, the same concentration used to clean their apartments, removing every trace of evidence. They’d been given manicures and pedicures, and previously two of the three had their hair colored and styled—the third had been a natural brunette. The victims had been dressed in pristine white cotton nightdresses and wrapped in a handwoven blanket, either blue or pink. The operative theory was that the color of the blanket indicated the sex of the child the woman had borne, but so far, without the infants, they were just guessing.
Find the children, and we’ll find the answers.
Each victim had been left near a school or playground where she’d be found quickly, and there was little danger of scavengers attacking the bodies. It was almost as if he didn’t want anything to desecrate his creations. O’Connor, the BAU analyst, thought the women were posed to look like angelic statues. Even their skin, thanks to the cyanide, had the same shade as pink Italian marble. The investigation into the blankets and headbands showed they were pure wool, handwoven, impossible to trace. Similarly, the nightgowns had been handmade from good quality cotton. He’d spoken to a few dressmakers, and they hadn’t been able to give him any more information other than to say each of the three nightgowns he’d shown them had been made by someone different, not a professional dressmaker. The feet were bare.
Tom hung up the phone, and from the look on his face and the speed of his walk, Rob knew whatever he’d learned wasn’t good news.
“It’s been confirmed. Mary Green was pregnant—near the end of her second trimester. She took a leave of absence from her job in New York last month. The police questioned her neighbor, who said Mary packed up her car and her dog about three weeks ago and told her she was going home for a while. Apparently, Ms. Green was a loner, rarely left home or had visitors, and the neighbor”—he checked the notes he’d made—“had been more than a little surprised when the baby bump had appeared. Lucy Green filed a missing person’s report last week.”
“I wonder why she waited so long. I assume the local LEOs checked her apartment?”
“They gave it a quick once-over when Mrs. Green reported her missing, looking for signs of foul play. Someone had noted the apartment was very clean. I asked them to have another look.” Tom’s frowned deepened. “Here’s where things get eerie. The apartment’s been cleaned alright, the fridge emptied, and everything either turned off or unplugged. There’s no sign she was planning to come back with a baby. The rent’s been pre-paid for the rest of the year.”
“Son of a bitch.” Rob stood and began to pace. Since he’d left Beverly, his mind had flitted from one insane theory to another, some so fantastic no one would believe him. Hell, they were his ideas, and he had trouble accepting them. He forced himself to concentrate on Tom’s voice.
“Every alarm in my head went off when I heard that,” Tom said, rubbing his chin nervously. “Talk about déjà vu. Considering what we found at the Harvester’s victims’
After they’d found the second of the Harvester’s victims, a BAU analyst had speculated on the ritual aspects of the crimes, and the theories ranged from simply a thorough way to ensure no evidence was left behind to human sacrifice. Satanism, cults, you name it, they’d discussed it, but without more evidence … They still didn’t have a clue, but victims number three and now four appeared to have been treated the same way.
Each body had been washed in bleach, the same concentration used to clean their apartments, removing every trace of evidence. They’d been given manicures and pedicures, and previously two of the three had their hair colored and styled—the third had been a natural brunette. The victims had been dressed in pristine white cotton nightdresses and wrapped in a handwoven blanket, either blue or pink. The operative theory was that the color of the blanket indicated the sex of the child the woman had borne, but so far, without the infants, they were just guessing.
Find the children, and we’ll find the answers.
Each victim had been left near a school or playground where she’d be found quickly, and there was little danger of scavengers attacking the bodies. It was almost as if he didn’t want anything to desecrate his creations. O’Connor, the BAU analyst, thought the women were posed to look like angelic statues. Even their skin, thanks to the cyanide, had the same shade as pink Italian marble. The investigation into the blankets and headbands showed they were pure wool, handwoven, impossible to trace. Similarly, the nightgowns had been handmade from good quality cotton. He’d spoken to a few dressmakers, and they hadn’t been able to give him any more information other than to say each of the three nightgowns he’d shown them had been made by someone different, not a professional dressmaker. The feet were bare.
Tom hung up the phone, and from the look on his face and the speed of his walk, Rob knew whatever he’d learned wasn’t good news.
“It’s been confirmed. Mary Green was pregnant—near the end of her second trimester. She took a leave of absence from her job in New York last month. The police questioned her neighbor, who said Mary packed up her car and her dog about three weeks ago and told her she was going home for a while. Apparently, Ms. Green was a loner, rarely left home or had visitors, and the neighbor”—he checked the notes he’d made—“had been more than a little surprised when the baby bump had appeared. Lucy Green filed a missing person’s report last week.”
“I wonder why she waited so long. I assume the local LEOs checked her apartment?”
“They gave it a quick once-over when Mrs. Green reported her missing, looking for signs of foul play. Someone had noted the apartment was very clean. I asked them to have another look.” Tom’s frowned deepened. “Here’s where things get eerie. The apartment’s been cleaned alright, the fridge emptied, and everything either turned off or unplugged. There’s no sign she was planning to come back with a baby. The rent’s been pre-paid for the rest of the year.”
“Son of a bitch.” Rob stood and began to pace. Since he’d left Beverly, his mind had flitted from one insane theory to another, some so fantastic no one would believe him. Hell, they were his ideas, and he had trouble accepting them. He forced himself to concentrate on Tom’s voice.
“Every alarm in my head went off when I heard that,” Tom said, rubbing his chin nervously. “Talk about déjà vu. Considering what we found at the Harvester’s victims’
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