Fortunately, Skye was a strong witness and they got the conviction, but it wasn’t as easy as it should’ve been.
Skye… Frustrated that he couldn’t think of her with the same emotional detachment he could put between himself and the other people he met through his work, he used his son’s words as a talisman—You’re still moving home, right?—and tried again to concentrate.
All three girls lived in single-family homes located in the Campus Commons area along the American River. One worked at the Pavilions, an upscale shopping center in an affluent area. The other two attended Sacramento State University, which was basically a commuter school.
The crime-scene photos drew his eye. So many of Burke’s patients had been concerned about his family. But look what he’d done to these other families.
Knowing that Skye might’ve been in a similar photo if she hadn’t managed to stab him, David cursed. The thought of Burke touching Skye, even looking at her, turned his stomach.
He took a sip of the now-cold coffee he’d bought on his way home this morning and held the photographs closer, studying them for new clues. There had to be something here, he told himself again, something he hadn’t previously spotted or surmised. But he’d already done everything he could with the facts he had. So he started making a list of what he knew so far:
—Considers himself normal but is sexually sadistic. The extra stab wounds and excessive bruising told him that.
—Raped and sodomized victims, but no evidence of necrophilia.
—Wore gloves. There was no fingerprint evidence at any of the murder scenes, even on the windows.
—Wore a hood. Skye had confirmed this.
—Most likely shaved his genital area. There hadn’t been any pubic hair at the murder scenes.
—No footprints in the bushes near point of entry. Had he covered his feet with those cotton booties doctors wore over their shoes? Possibly, David wrote. But there’d been that one print near the front walkway of Patty Poindexter’s house, so maybe he didn’t use them all the time.
—Must have used a condom, which he took away from the scene. The girls’ bodies yielded no se**n samples, although it was clear they’d been forcefully penetrated.
—Was comfortable using a knife. Possibly from having experience with a scalpel?
—Probably wasn’t over six feet tall. Because the perpetrator had come through a bedroom window at least twice, he couldn’t be very big. The bigger the guy, the harder it’d be to use that mode of entry.
—Stalked his victims, was familiar with their routines. This killer knew when the girls were alone in their bedrooms, even though they all lived with others. Was that part of the fun for him? Probably, or he would’ve chosen easier targets. Likes the chase, David added.
—Brazen. He dared to intrude, even when one girl’s parents were home, so it followed that he liked flirting with the threat of capture. David guessed it gave him as big a rush as showing women that they weren’t safe in their own homes, that he held the power.
—Disciplined. Or he would’ve left some evidence behind.
—Probably watches a lot of crime shows on TV in an effort to figure out how to avoid detection. Many violent criminals were fascinated with police, and Burke was no different. When David searched his home, he found no souvenirs taken from the victims, no bloody clothing, no knife, which was the hard evidence he’d been hoping to recover. But he did find bookcases full of true-crime books, many of them detailed accounts of slayings by serial killers.
Sitting back, David reread what he’d written. Every item fit the man who was already in prison. Equally compelling was the fact that there’d been no similar attacks since he’d been put behind bars. A dentist would be more comfortable cutting a person than someone who’d never sliced human flesh, he reasoned. A dentist would know how to make the most efficient incision and wouldn’t be afraid of blood. Burke definitely considered himself “normal.” He was smart, short and had a slight build.
But even David had to admit these points could apply to a lot of men. It was his own gut feeling that convinced him more than anything else, that and the strange look Oliver Burke had given him during the initial interrogation—as if he was tempted to confess…
A gut feeling and an expression were tough to sell to a prosecutor. Or a jury, for that matter. He needed more.
With a sigh, he closed the files. There was nothing else here. He’d been through all of this before. He had to come up with some fresh information or these cases would never be solved.
And, in order to do that, he had to appeal to the people who knew Burke best.
When I get out, I’m going to slit your throat….
Skye sat at her desk, staring into space. She hadn’t been able to work all morning. Whether that call had come from Oliver Burke or not, she still believed he’d want revenge against her for testifying in court. He’d come after her….
“Hello, this is Peter Vaughn, a volunteer with The Last Stand. We’re a nonprofit organization dedicated to supporting the victims of violent crime….”
From the other room, Skye could hear the telephone soliciting that went on for three hours a day as volunteers helped raise the funds to keep their doors open. Volunteers came and went. It was difficult to sustain people’s motivation when they weren’t being paid. But there were a few who stuck around, usually those who knew someone who’d been killed or raped, and Peter was one of them. He’d lost an older brother to a drive-by shooting and, although only eighteen, he was a pro on the phone.
As distracted as she was, Skye could easily sit and listen to Peter all morning. But she had her own work to do. She had a list of current cases to follow up on and several messages to return. One was from Jonathan, who’d learned that Sean Regan’s wife sometimes met a certain heavyset but wealthy stranger for lunch. Another was from a client who’d gone back to the man who was abusing her, always a worry. Skye also needed to find a dress for the fund-raiser, as well as a date. And she wanted to draft a new press release with the details of Burke’s release, emphasizing the importance of continued support for charities like TLS.
She began the press release first, hoping it’d ease her mind to be taking some action to defend herself, but it wasn’t as cathartic as she’d hoped. She kept stopping and staring at the phone, waiting for word from David. Their earlier conversation hadn’t ended well, but she was so tired of hoping for something she wasn’t going to get. She needed to permanently relegate David to the realm of platonic friends. But what she felt for him wasn’t an emotion she could switch on and off. They’d both fought it from the beginning. And now Burke was getting out, and the whole thing seemed to be starting over. The contact. The worry. The desire. The fear.