And Thomas was right. By the time they got a DNA hit on the perp, Sarah Finway could be dead.
“I’m going to keep searching with Aaron. If we find anything, I’ll call you.”
“He knows this area. Be careful because you don’t want to walk into another of his traps.”
“I want to find the guy,” Thomas fired back. “If he wants to hunt someone, if that’s the way he likes to play, then he needs to come hunt me, not some innocent civilian.”
When the call ended, Noelle kept holding the phone and staring at those pictures. “I need to talk with the sheriff,” she said, not looking over her shoulder at Mercer. “And then I want to head back to the senator’s place and talk with Paula Quill.” Because Paula had been the senator’s confidant. If there had been someone in and out of the senator’s life for the past fifteen years, then Paula should know.
Mercer’s footsteps padded out of the office. She knew he’d pull the sheriff in, one way or another. No one said no to Mercer. At least, not for long.
She put the phone down on the desk and let her gaze trek from image to image. They’d gotten names for the girls. Dates of their disappearances. She’d put the images in order based on those dates, and her focus shifted to the first girl who’d vanished.
Emma Jane Rogers. Age sixteen. She’d lived in Charleston.
“The first kill is the one that matters most,” Noelle whispered as she leaned toward the image. There had to be something in the picture that could help her. Why had the killer begun with Emma Jane? Why her?
Had all of the others girls been taken because they looked like Emma?
Her finger pressed against the photograph. Emma Jane was wearing a necklace. They’d blown up the photo, and Noelle could see it appeared to be half of a heart. The kind of necklace young couples often wore. The girl would have one part, and the boy would have the other.
There were two images of Emma Jane. In one of the images, that necklace around her neck was clear.
In the other image, it was gone. Blood dripped over her neck, as if she’d been sliced with a knife.
As if someone had sliced the necklace off her?
Noelle quickly checked the other snapshots. None of the others were wearing any sort of jewelry. Their necks also didn’t show any signs of having been cut. There were no injuries on those girls in the other photos at all.
These are the before shots.
Were there after shots someplace? Images that showed what had happened to the girls after the hunt was complete?
Noelle knew that there must be.
“Here’s the sheriff.”
Noelle turned at Mercer’s flat words. He had a tight grip on the sheriff’s arm. Hodges was glaring at him.
“I was in the middle of a briefing with my men!” Hodges sputtered. “You don’t just drag a sheriff away—”
Mercer laughed. “I drag anyone away.” He pointed toward Noelle. “Now, answer her questions because if anyone can figure out this guy, it’s her.”
She already had puzzle pieces flying through her mind. “He’s a local, Sheriff. Someone who knows this area extremely well. He’d keep to himself. He’s a male...probably in his late thirties, close to Senator Duncan’s age. He’s ex-navy, so he might be sporting some tattoos that he got during the service.”
Hodges shook his head. “This is a town of barely a thousand people. I know everyone.”
“And that’s why you know him. He might come in and out, drifting in when Senator Duncan is in the area. He won’t stay all year, but he knows this place. He’d be the best hunter in the area. He’d have to be. So think of someone who’s gone after big game. Someone who—”
The sheriff stiffened.
“You know who it is,” Mercer growled.
“There is a guy like that. His name’s Patrick, Patrick Porter.” Hodges shook his head. “He’s the best hunter in the area. He comes through the area because he likes to go after bears.” His gaze darted to the photos on the wall. “Lot of hunters come through here because they want to go after the big game, but Porter... He comes back each year. And he always gets his prey.”
Her heart raced in her chest. “Is he here now?”
“I don’t know.” Hodges ran a hand over his face. “But he usually stays at the old Burrows cabin. It’s about four miles north of the senator’s place.”
A perfect fit.
“Get your men out there,” Mercer snapped. “Now.”
Noelle yanked out her phone as the sheriff rushed away. She had Thomas back on the line seconds later. “We have a target. His name’s Patrick Porter, and the sheriff said he’s at a cabin about four miles north of the senator’s home.” That would sure put the guy in close enough proximity to kill. “The sheriff is heading there now.”
“You know he probably has a few cabins out there, Noelle,” Thomas said. “Places to hide his victims.”
Yes, she knew that. “But he might have left us something we could use at the Burrows place.” Or maybe the guy wasn’t thinking clearly because of his injuries. She’d seen plenty of perps slip up over the years. “Get back to the station, and we’ll go after him with the sheriff.” Because she planned to be on the scene.
She pushed the phone into her pocket and spun back around. She marched for the door, but Mercer put up his hand, blocking her. “You need to be careful.”
His words had her pausing. Since when did the EOD director worry his agents couldn’t do their jobs?
Her eyes narrowed on him. “I might not have military experience, but I survived just fine as an FBI agent. If you don’t think I can do this, then you never should’ve brought me on the team.”
“I know you can do any job.” He shut the door, sealing them inside.
Noelle gave a frantic shake of her head. “Thomas is on his way. I need to get directions for that cabin. I should—”
“Thomas briefed me on what happened last night.”
For an instant, her cheeks burned. No way was he talking about what she suspected. There were sure some things the boss didn’t need to know.
“You nearly died. If you’d been alone, do you think you would have made it out of that water?”
“You might be surprised,” Noelle said as she lifted her chin. “I’m a lot stronger than you give me credit for being.”
He laughed at that, the sound low and rough. “Oh, I know you’re plenty strong. All of my agents are. I didn’t keep the truth from you because I thought you were weak.” His head tilted. “Is that what you think?”