Chapter 35 MERCY

Chapter 35

MERCY

Day 7

"You're up early," Mercy said as she answered Evan's phone call and stifled a yawn. It was eight a.m. on the East Coast, and she and Bree had dragged themselves into the office an hour ago after a late night of heavy talk and more wine than expected.

We deserved to blow off a little steam.

The image of Jimmie dead in the filthy bathroom was still fresh in her mind. "Have you read my report on the shooting of Jimmie Elkins?" she asked Evan.

"Our suspect reactivated his CuffMe account last night," Evan stated, ignoring her question.

Mercy blinked, her brain trying to catch up. Across the conference table, Bree met her gaze and raised a tired brow. Mercy knew the dark circles under her eyes matched the sheriff's. "Evan, I'm putting you on speaker. Bree is here too."

"Morning, Sheriff," said Evan. "Our suspect's CuffMe profile has been reactivated," he repeated. "We still have access to it, and we can see he's communicating with other women. I'm not seeing any meetings being planned in the conversations. He's blocking most accounts after a few sentences. He's clearly looking for something specific."

"That has to mean that Jimmie definitely wasn't our killer—unless someone else is using the account," said Mercy, swallowing hard. "Does him trolling online mean he's already disposed of the victim from the mall and is looking for someone new?"

"Maybe the mall victim turned out to not be acceptable or he wasn't the kidnapper," said Bree. "It also emphasizes the question of whether or not Paige is still alive."

Are we too late?

"I don't know what it means," said Evan. "I've been speaking with one of the company's lawyers. CuffMe is very uptight about protecting their clients' privacy—"

"Their killer's privacy," snapped Bree.

"But he confirmed again that TheMaster232 account's IP address is still somewhere in the Scarlet Falls area, and the name on the account is still Mark Verney. I went through everyone TheMaster communicated with in the past and sent a list of profile names to the lawyer. He had someone check those accounts and verified that the names Vanessa Mullen and Tisha Talbot were not the owners of any on that list. He also said there are no accounts with the company period with those names as the owner."

"They could have used fake names," Mercy pointed out.

"True," said Evan.

"We know he met Paige on CuffMe," said Mercy. "I still think he could have met Vanessa or Tisha there with fake names on their accounts, but I'd assumed he'd met them around here as they were sometimes local prostitutes." She looked at Bree. "Do we need to put out a warning to that community? Interview some women about their johns? Maybe some have dealt with a man who uses a ball gag."

"Communicating with those women is not as easy as it sounds. The last person they want to listen to is the police," said Bree. "Let me think about how to approach them."

"It drives me crazy that our guy is hiding behind a computer screen," said Evan.

Mercy pulled up the site, wanting to look at TheMaster232 profile, only to find she couldn't even get in without creating her own account. "Evan, can you somehow give us access to his conversations?"

"I can't. CuffMe gave only me access."

Mercy thought for a long moment.

We could . . .

"You've gone quiet," Evan said.

"I have an idea," said Mercy.

"I suspect I know what it is," Evan said dryly. "And I don't like it."

Mercy gestured at the CuffMe home page on her screen. "We could set up a profile to get him to talk to us. We know exactly the kind of woman he wants." She looked eagerly at Bree. "We could draw him in."

"He talked to Paige for a long time before meeting her," said Bree. "We don't have months."

Paige doesn't have months.

If we're not already too late.

"We don't need him to agree to meet," said Mercy. "We just need a crumb of information that could lead us to him. We know TheMaster is in the area here somewhere. If he said something like ... I often visit the library—"

Bree made a derisive noise.

"Or I shop at Whole Foods, not Hannaford. Something. We could ask about his plans for the evening. If he thinks our fake profile is in another state, maybe he'd feel comfortable enough to let some local references slip through." She was warming to the idea, a subtle excitement growing. It felt like a good possibility.

On the phone, Evan was silent, and she could tell Bree was mulling it over.

"We can do this," Mercy stated. "It can't hurt. Evan can let us know if he sets something up in conversations with other women. It'll be like we're watching him from two different angles."

"I like the thought of yanking him around," said Bree, nodding resolutely. Her cell phone buzzed, and she glanced at the screen. "It's Dr. Jones. She probably has a prelim on Jimmie Elkins."

"Evan, you never answered if you read my report about Jimmie," said Mercy as Bree answered her phone.

"I did. Sorry, I was focused on the CuffMe information."

"Dr. Jones," said Bree. "You're on speaker with Agent Kilpatrick and Detective Bolton."

There was a pause. "Who is Detective Bolton?" asked Dr. Jones.

"Detective Bolton is with the Deschutes County Sheriff's Department in Oregon," said Mercy. "He is investigating an aspect that may be tied to Jimmie Elkins's death."

"In that case, I can confirm that Jimmie Elkins's death was a homicide," said Dr. Jones. "Clearly someone tried to stage it as a suicide, but like I speculated at the scene, the angle of the shot was physically impossible for him to achieve. He had a perimortem crack on the posterior aspect of his skull, which could explain why he was on the ground when he was shot."

"Someone slammed him into the tile wall," commented Mercy. "Possibly a physical altercation happened before the shooting."

"I took his nail scrapings for forensics—maybe you'll get lucky. The only other thing that might interest you was that he had a low level of methamphetamines in his system. You'll have my full report in a few hours, but those are the highlights."

"Thank you, Doctor," said Bree.

"Good luck." Dr. Jones ended the call.

"A low level of meth was probably SOP for Jimmie," said Mercy.

"I'll have my chief deputy contact the surrounding counties and see if we can get a line on who Jimmie's supplier was in addition to the evidence we'll have from the weapon," said Bree. "I can't help but feel this was the result of a dispute—most likely drugs or money. It was fast and harsh." She tipped her head toward Mercy's laptop. "Our killer doesn't appear to do anything quickly."

"I'll start setting up the CuffMe profile," said Mercy, already searching online photo sites for pictures that would catch their suspect's interest. "He likes them petite with long dark hair. Young too."

"I'm getting in the shower," said Evan on speaker. "I'll check in with you two later."

Mercy ended the call and considered a photo. "Too sexy?" she asked Bree.

"You can't use stock photos," said Bree. "He'll run a reverse image search and find them immediately. We need private pictures."

"Crap, you're right," said Mercy, thinking hard. "How are we going to get pics for the profile? I don't have any photos to share—I'm too tall anyway."

"Same," said Bree. "Maybe we could—I know!" She pulled out her phone and tapped her screen a few times. "I think I can catch her before she leaves her house."

"Who?" asked Mercy.

"Deputy Zucco. She was at the kidnapping scene yesterday," she said, holding the phone to her ear. "She's new to Randolph. Came out of NYPD recently. I know she did some undercover work for them."

"I remember her. She's definitely the right size."

"Yep. She's got the right hair too. Don't let her size fool you. She's tough." Bree held up a finger. "Zucco? You on your way in yet?" Bree paused. "OK. Hang on. I'm putting you on speaker with Special Agent Kilpatrick. We have a request."

"Just name it," said a woman with a New York accent.

Mercy nodded at Bree.

"I know you did undercover work at the NYPD," said Bree. "One was a prostitution sting, right?"

"I did several of those."

"We need someone of your stature and looks for pictures to post on a BDSM site. We're creating a fake profile."

Zucco was silent.

"I know that sounds awful," said Mercy. "We'll keep the pictures clean—we just need them to be appealing. We can cover your face as much as possible. We know the types of photos that have caught his attention before."

"You have an online target?" asked Zucco. "Is this related to the suitcase women?" Her tone grew sharp.

"Yes and yes," said Bree. "Any chance you have some clothing that would work?"

Zucco laughed. "Do I have some sexy clothing? You bet I do. I'm in. I'll do anything to help catch that asshole."

"Can you bring in the clothes this morning?" asked Bree. "We'll do a quick photography session. I'd like to get this up and running ASAP."

"I'll be there in fifteen. This sounds like fun." She gave a rich laugh. "Looking forward to it."

Bree ended the call. "I knew she'd be on board."

"I'll fill out the bio while we're waiting." Mercy checked the box on the screen to swear she was eighteen and then a half dozen other boxes that basically said CuffMe wasn't responsible for anything and people needed to use common sense. Then she was instructed to set up her profile. "I need a username." Mercy wrinkled her nose, remembering the suggestive names of the men Paige had chatted with.

"Something that sounds submissive," said Bree.

"Paige's profile and interests came across that way. I remember dollification was one of them because I'd never heard of it," Mercy said. "How about YourDoll?" She typed it in. "Of course, it's in use." She randomly added 945 to the end and it was accepted.

"I'll do twenty-five for her age. And located in Boston, Massachusetts. That should be far enough away to make him feel relaxed, but close enough for him to consider meeting her."

"He went across the country for Paige," said Bree.

"That was crazy, wasn't it? I wonder what made the appeal so strong."

"Hopefully we can get his attention."

"I'll include all the interests Paige had listed in hers. I can list that our woman is willing to travel too. What else do we know about him to help capture his attention?"

"He likes ball gags," muttered Bree.

"It'd be great if we could get one in a photo with your deputy."

"You'll have to go to the adult store," said Bree. "I don't keep them around the department."

Mercy grinned. "Maybe someone else does."

"I don't want to know about it."

Mercy sat back in her chair. "That's all I can do until we have photos."

An hour later they had photos.

Deputy Renata Zucco had walked in with a bag full of clothes. Mercy had considered a slinky black dress until she saw something pink in the bottom of the bag. Bree spotted it at the same time and pulled out an off-the-shoulder blouse. She met Mercy's gaze.

Pepto-Bismol pink.

Some smoldering eye makeup and pigtails completed the look. "Am I to be sexy or a schoolgirl?" Renata had asked.

"Yes," Mercy and Bree had answered in unison.

"Got it."

Mercy uploaded five photos. Bree had taken some great angles that were revealing and coy at the same time, Renata's face only partially visible in each one. A tease for the observer. The shots were just enough for it to be obvious that she was beautiful. She wore the black dress in one full body shot, her dark hair covering one eye, while the other eye stared into your soul.

Renata and Bree watched over Mercy's shoulder as the profile took shape.

"You look amazing," said Bree.

Renata shrugged, pulling her hair into a severe ponytail and took a makeup wipe to her eyeliner. The siren from a few minutes before was now in uniform.

"Ready?" said Mercy, her cursor hovering over the POST button.

"Go for it," said Bree.

Mercy clicked.

Please work.