Bowman pulled back the sheet a little farther, revealing the victim’s neck and the very top portion of the stitched Y incision on her chest. He was including her as much as possible because he wanted her to trust him. “We don’t know. But holding the victims for three days up to two weeks was consistent from case to case.”
Shield folded his arms, his gaze not wavering from the body.
“Was there any sign of sexual abuse in past victims?” Riley asked.
“In several cases it was clear the victims had engaged in intercourse, but there was no bruising. We ran DNA on all the samples and each originated from different persons.”
Riley tapped an index finger against the tray. “That profile fits with this victim, correct, Doctor?”
“That’s right,” Dr. Kincaid said.
“Vicky Gilbert was only missing a couple of days. Her friend Rebecca Wayne was in contact with her via phone two days before her body was found.”
“It appears the Shark is not as patient as he used to be.” Bowman stared at the deep bruising around the victim’s pale neck. How close had Riley come to dying? She wouldn’t like him protecting her. But until this psychopath was caught, Bowman was keeping close tabs on her.
“Did you come across the body of a white male in his early fifties? His name would’ve been Kevin Lewis,” Bowman said.
Dr. Kincaid glanced at Riley. “He came in yesterday.”
Riley stared at Bowman. “We haven’t released his name. How would you know about this?”
“I have it on good information that Mr. Lewis bought Vicky from Jax. I assumed the Shark killed him.”
“Really? Who told you about Lewis?” Riley challenged.
“Jax Carter.”
“He told you?”
“He did.”
Riley muttered an oath. “We found Kevin Lewis yesterday afternoon.”
“Where?” Shield asked.
“About a mile from where we found Vicky Gilbert.”
“How did he die?” Shield asked.
“He was shot,” Riley said. “Agent Sharp is getting a warrant to search his hotel room. It’ll be ready later this morning.”
“I’d like to be present when you do his autopsy,” Bowman said.
The doctor covered Vicky Gilbert’s body and pushed it into the cold cubicle. “That’s up to Agent Sharp.”
“Were there any men found around the time of the New Orleans victims?” Riley asked.
“Never,” Shield said. “We only found the girls. But several gamblers vanished in the Vegas area the summer after the New Orleans cases.”
“These gamblers ran with a rough crowd, but there is no loyalty. It’s understandable that when one disappears, it isn’t always noticed immediately,” Bowman said.
“Nothing guarantees silence like death,” Riley said.
“Please test Mr. Lewis’s DNA for any trace evidence of Vicky Gilbert,” Shield said. “I’d bet money he’s the one who strangled her.”
Dr. Kincaid moved three spaces over and opened another drawer. She pulled out the tray and drew back the sheet. They stared at the pale angled face of a man with neatly cropped hair. “Agent Sharp already ordered DNA on Mr. Lewis to be cross matched with Gilbert.”
“How did he know to look?” Shield asked.
“Lewis was a card player dumped near a dead girl with cards in her pocket,” Riley said. “He doesn’t believe in coincidence.”
Shield’s nod to Bowman conveyed his approval.
“I haven’t autopsied him yet,” Dr. Kincaid said. “I was planning to do that when Agent Sharp arrives shortly.”
Riley pulled out her phone. “I’ll call him to give a heads-up that Bowman will be attending.”
Shield checked his watch. “I’m headed back to the office. Clay, call me if you need anything.”
“Will do.”
Shield turned to Riley, extending his hand. “Been a pleasure.”
She grasped his hand, studying his face as if she were trying to peer behind his neutral expression. “Yes, sir.”
“If it’ll help,” Shield said, “I can offer you and Agent Sharp a briefing of my case notes on the Shark.”
“I’ll mention it to Agent Sharp.”
“I’m at your disposal.”
He released her hand and pushed through the swinging doors.
“I need to call Agent Sharp,” Riley said before turning and moving through the doors.
In the hallway, Bowman watched Riley raise the cell to her ear and pinch the bridge of her nose as she spoke quietly. She shot him an annoyed glance, a sign that Sharp was telling her to cooperate. Shield was already making calls and reeling in favors as he drove north.
Afterward, she looked at him with resignation. Bowman hadn’t expected to be greeted with open arms, but she didn’t attempt friendly.
“The conversation didn’t go well?” he asked.
“Agent Sharp reminded me I can only be a part of this investigation if I play by his rules. And the rules are now that I have to make nice with you.”
“Buy you a cup of coffee?” he asked. “Just don’t throw it on me.”
“Melanie’s Diner has the best.”
“Lead the way.”
A steady rise and fall of her chest tempered some of the tension in her face. “Right.”
He followed her to the elevator.
“The place I’m thinking of is a few miles from here. It’ll be quicker if I drive.”
“Sure.”
Outside, she led him to her SUV. When they sat in the front seat, the smell of rug cleaner and Armor All didn’t mask the scent of Cooper.
“Where’s Cooper?”
“At home. I’ll get him midday. And if I’m running late, Hanna will let him out.” She started the engine.
“He’s one hell of a dog.”
Mention of Cooper softened her tone a bit more. “He’s the best.”
“How often do you train with him?”
“We run through tracking skills at least weekly. We work out together daily.”
This close he noticed the scent of her soap and saw the faint wisps of damp hair by her ear. His text this morning about the autopsy had caught her off guard.
“Your training showed on the mountain. You both are in top form.”
“Thanks.”
He clicked on his seat belt, wondering how she’d put a thousand miles between herself and New Orleans and rebooted her life after she escaped the Shark.
“What else can you tell me a
bout the Shark?” she asked. “How did you and Shield first come across him?”
“We were both working in the New Orleans FBI office when Joshua read about two young girls who were strangled in a one-week period. Both runaways found with playing cards in their pockets.”
“Dead runaways don’t warrant FBI interventions.” Her knuckles whitened as she gripped the wheel.
“He had a daughter once. She went missing when she was a young child. He was never the same after.”
“And when did his interest in the New Orleans case become official?”
“We were called in when the third and fourth girls were found. Again, cards in the pocket.”
Riley’s jaw tightened a fraction. “I did a search on the case. The media picked up the story. It was sensational enough to get some airtime but faded quickly. Has he struck again?”
“No. He’s been dark for twelve years.”
“Until now.”
Until you.
She pulled into the parking lot of an old diner that he’d never have considered as a place that made great coffee.
As if reading his thoughts she said, “Don’t let the looks of the place fool you. It’ll be the best coffee you’ve ever had. And if you aren’t worried about your figure, go for one of the doughnuts. Homemade each morning.”
“Cops and doughnuts. The cliché doesn’t bother you?”
“Not even a little.”
Bells jingled above as they entered the crowded diner. Booths lined the walls and bar stools circled a counter. Each seat was occupied. Riley waved to a hostess and moved to the takeout sign. She ordered two coffees and a doughnut for herself as she drew a slim wallet from her coat pocket. “Is that a yes or a no to the doughnut?”
“Pass.”
“Your loss.” She dropped five bucks on the counter and accepted the two cups. “Cream?”
“Black.”
“Right.” She dumped a sugar packet into her coffee and added a splash of cream. She sipped, closing her eyes and savoring the flavor before moving to a booth that faced out toward the door.