Chapter Thirteen

"I never understood the appeal of incense."

Brook stepped through the white picket fence surrounding the front yard of Mary Jane Reynold's home. There wasn't a cloud in the sky, though another round of storms were set to hit in the coming days. A gentle breeze carried the fresh scent of cut grass, courtesy of an older gentleman a few houses down. Brook inhaled deeply to clear out her sinuses.

"Studies have shown that the aromas from incense raise serotonin in the brain," Theo offered up as he made sure the gate latched behind him.

"You've been spending too much time with Sylvie," Brook muttered wryly as she came to a stop on the sidewalk. She glanced toward the rental car where she had locked her purse in the trunk. Theo had parked behind her in the SUV, and both vehicles appeared secure. "Serotonin? I'd be more worried about the risk of lung cancer."

"Mary Jane is scared, as well she should be," Theo pointed out as he glanced up and down the suburban street. The press had given up after two days of staking out Mary Four's residence after another story had caught their interest. All it would take was one whiff of the investigation potentially taking another direction to grab their attention and presence. "Agent Tirelli sent one of his colleagues to the house, but the agent didn't arrive until after two o'clock in the morning. Let's just say that by the time Agent Laurel made an appearance, every room in the house had its own incense. Wait. Cancer? From incense? Did you read that somewhere?"

"I take it back," Brook said as she scanned the houses across the street. "You've been spending too much time with Bit."

Bit and Sylvie had remained at the rental house. Between the two of them, they would be able to gather enough information regarding Mary Four's surgery to put together a long list of people to interview. Once they had those names in hand, Sylvie and Theo would be able to drive to Ann Arbor. They would handle the interviews, while Brook and Bit stayed in Crestlake.

Mary Four was the unsub's next target, which meant the unsub was nearby.

"If I spotted the scar on Mary Four's chest during that online video, then the unsub would have noticed it, too." Brook noticed toys in one of the yards, which meant the woman who was giving an interview last week probably resided in that home. "A heart transplant? That opens the door for a long list of suspects."

Brook had spent the past hour convincing Mary Jane not to post a video about this new information, as well as how important it was for her not to change her daily routine. They stood a better chance at apprehending the unsub if he believed there was an opportunity he could reach her. While a federal agent had been appointed to safeguard Mary Jane, the unsub would assume the FBI would eventually tire and send him on his way. In the meantime, it was probable that the unsub would remain in the area to observe Mary Four's daily routine.

"Sylvie has been working on the paperwork to submit warrants for Mary Four's medical records, as well as everything related to her operation. And you're right about the net widening. We'll need to look into everyone involved in the transplant…the donor, the donor's family and friends, the recipients who were denied organs, and even hospital personnel who might have held a grudge from being denied involvement or some other far-out theory that caused the unsub to snap."

"Which means that we were right about this not being a typical investigation." Brook needed to adjust the profile now that new information had come to light. The individual who they were searching for was someone who had a specific target in mind. Given the collateral damage, the unsub wouldn't stop until he had completed his mission. "Listen, I didn't have a chance to eat breakfast. I'll stop and pick up lunch for everyone. Bit has already texted me twice to see if one of us is bringing back food."

"I'll meet you back at the house then," Theo said as he continued to monitor their surroundings. "I'm going to canvass the neighborhood. This street, anyway. We've had someone sitting outside Mary Four's residence for the past week. She hasn't been alone since posting her video, which could potentially force the unsub to find alternative means to study her routine."

Mary Four had agreed to allow Agent Laurel to remain inside her residence as of earlier this morning. As Theo had pointed out, a patrol car had been parked on the street. There could have been several ways that the unsub had attempted to garner information on his target. He could have posed as a law enforcement officer, asking questions about Mary Jane Reynolds. Then there were the traditional methods of gaining access and information, such as a handyman or a landscaper.

"I'll take the houses on the right."

"The kids are probably starving, M—"

"You can stop right there, Theo," Brook warned good-naturedly as she fastened the sole button on her blazer. The dark grey material soaked up the warmth of the sun, not that she would complain about it. While the day was what some would call perfection in terms of weather, the gentle breeze still held a crisp coolness that lacked humidity. "We'll work our way down and meet at the house across the way."

Theo's laughter from her previous warning carried in the air as she began to cross the street. She glanced back at Mary Four's residence, gauging how far the unsub might have attempted to gain information about his target. While everyone probably had superficial knowledge about those living inside the community, only those closest to each other would have the information that he would be seeking in this scenario.

Brook paused when she reached the third house across the street, pulling her credentials from her pocket. The suburban homes all seemed to blend together with their neat lawns and similar two-story architecture, but upon closer inspection, each one had its unique characteristics. Some had brightly painted doors, while others chose to stand apart with wooden porch swings or uniquely shaped shutters. The small difference gave each home its own personality.

It didn't take Brook long to walk up the two porch steps and knock on the screen door. She glanced to her left, noticing that Theo was already speaking to the older gentleman who had been mowing his grass.

"May I help you?"

"Good afternoon," Brook said as she held up her credentials. The older woman remained just inside the screen door as she tilted her head so she could look at the identification through her reading glasses. "My name is Brooklyn Sloane. My team and I are consultants with the FBI, and I was hoping to ask you a few questions."

"Is this about Mary Jane? I told my husband that her posting online all the time would lead to trouble," the older woman said as she pushed open the door. Her glasses had a thin chain attached to each temple tip, so they fell against her chest. "I'm Ruth. Ruth Pace. My husband's name is Charles."

She stepped out onto the porch, her seeking gaze finally landing on Mary Four's white picket fence. Ruth's voice contained a rasp that only belonged to smokers, but it was the yellowish tint on her index and middle fingers that confirmed the woman's habit.

"Have you noticed anything unusual in the neighborhood? People who don't belong? Suspicious vehicles?"

"Just the patrol car that has been sitting outside Mary Jane's house since last week." Ruth's eyes narrowed as she noticed said vehicle missing from its usual spot. "Have you made an arrest? Wait. No, you haven't, otherwise you wouldn't be here asking me questions."

Ruth was sharp, which meant that she didn't miss much that happened inside her community. Her observation came from smoking on the front porch, evident by the pack of cigarettes that were tucked discreetly against the windowsill near the porch swing.

"Just to clarify, no one has been knocking on doors in the past week? Maybe trying to sell something to you or asking if you have any yardwork for them to do?"

"No," Ruth replied as she gestured in the direction of Theo, who had already moved on from speaking with the gentleman who had been mowing his lawn. "We pretty much tend to our own yard, though Nathan mows a few of them."

"Nathan?"

"Laura's boy." Ruth nodded in the other direction. "Nathan is fifteen and has his driver's permit. He's saving up for his first car. He mows Mary Jane's yard. Maybe he would know, but you"re out of luck today. Nathan and some of his friends went to the lake for the day."

"And the other neighbors? Anything out of the ordinary?"

"Not really," Ruth said as she shifted her stance to gesture toward her next-door neighbor. "You'll have to knock loud if you want Benji—Benji Torrence—to hear you over his television. He has hearing aids, but he never wears them."

Ruth frowned when she glanced past Benji's house.

"I haven't seen Janice in a couple of days, but you'll probably find her in the backyard. Morris is her last name. She can get a bit obsessive over her flower gardens."

Once again, Ruth had proven to be an invaluable source of information and insight.

"I appreciate your time, Mrs. Pace," Brook finally said after Ruth had practically gone through every neighbor within walking distance. By the time Brook had retraced her steps to the residence next to Ruth's house, Theo had finished speaking to those residing on Mary Jane's side of the street. Brook focused on the loud voices drifting through the open windows of Benji Torrence's house. She knocked hard on Ruth's advice. "Mr. Torrence?"

Brook figured if the older gentleman couldn't hear the low thud of her knocking, he might be able to pick up on her voice. She walked over to the screen inside the window and called out his name once more.

"I'm coming!"

Brook spent the next few minutes speaking with Mr. Torrence, but he wasn't as insightful into the community as Ruth. By the time Brook had walked up the porch steps of the house directly across from Mary Jane's residence, Theo was already next door speaking with another neighbor.

When Janice Morris didn't answer her door, Brook eventually made her way back down the porch steps. She carefully crossed the yard, mindful of her small heels. Vibrant flowers in various shades of pink and purple had been planted alongside the house. Among the blooms were stone butterflies of all shapes and sizes, which added a touch of charm to the two-story home.

Brook came to a stop at the edge of a wooden fence. She walked some of its length until she had a complete view of the backyard. A vegetable garden had been planted on the far side, and large flower pots with red and white perennials had been strategically placed on each corner of a patio deck. A bag of soil lay open on the stone pavers, along with several gardening tools.

Janice couldn't have gone far, so Brook reached for the latch on the gate.

"Ms. Morris?"

Brook thought that maybe Janice had gone back inside the house for a moment, but her mind changed when she stepped closer to the bag of soil. The clumps that had spilled from the bag had been dried by the sun. It was obvious the contents hadn't been touched for a few days. There were many valid reasons as to why Janice Morris had left such items outside, but something was off about the situation.

Brook cautiously stepped around the bag of soil, mindful of the hand trowel and cultivator. There were no gardening gloves in sight. She approached the sliding glass doors, but the heavy drapes had been pulled shut. The weight of the curtains had caused a gap between the two sides of the material, giving Brook the ability to step to the left in order to allow some sunshine to peer through the panes.

The spacious kitchen was quiet and still.

The limited rays that seeped through the slit in the drapes glinted off the light countertops. A quick scan revealed a few dirty dishes cluttering the sink, but overall, the interior seemed tidy.

What could be seen of the kitchen table revealed a simple vase…with dead flowers.

Brook tensed as she began to inspect the interior more closely, starting with the floor. Right at the corner of the counter, a streak of reddish-brown could be seen on the tiles. The darker tint of the stain revealed that the blood had dried days ago.

Ever so slowly, Brook unfastened the button on her blazer. She drew her firearm from its holster as she stepped to the side of the sliding glass door. The shift in movement allowed her to catch sight of Theo coming around the side of the house. He hadn't entered through the gate, so he would be able to retrace his steps with ease. She raised a finger to her lips before motioning that he should cover the front. He nodded his understanding before reaching for his weapon.

Surprisingly, the sliding glass door offered little resistance when she applied some pressure on the handle with her elbow. It wasn't her intention to disturb evidence, but if there was the slightest chance that Janice Morris was alive, then Brook needed to gain entrance into the house. She stepped over the threshold as quietly as possible.

A metallic scent lingered heavily in the air.

Brook slowly advanced into the home, examining every inch of space she could along the way. Now that she was standing close to the countertop, blood splatter on the hard surface was visible…enough for Brook to know that Janice Morris was dead.

Mindful of the smear on the floor, Brook made sure to step to the side as she rounded the island. A chair was missing from the kitchen table, but that wasn't what had captured her attention. A large pool of blood dominated the space, with streaks that led into the other room. Brook cautiously followed the crimson trail while straining to hear the slightest sound emanating from other parts of the house.

Brook silently entered the living room, coming to a stop when her gaze landed on the body of a woman. Her throat gaped open from the deep slice of a knife, and her eyes stared unseeing toward the ceiling. Given that the metallic scent of blood was stronger than the decomposition, Brook estimated Janice Morris' time of death to be around forty-eight hours.

Brook noted the missing kitchen chair tucked up against the far window, which just so happened to be facing Mary Jane Reynolds' residence. Their unsub had found another way to observe his next victim, and the death of a neighbor was proof of the unsub's desperation. Not willing to make assumptions that Janice Morris' killer had vacated the premises, Brook cautiously made her way over to the front door.

Keeping her weapon trained on the staircase leading upstairs, Brook reached over with her left hand and turned the deadbolt. She made a mental note to let the forensics team know she had left her fingerprints on the latch. Taking a step to the side so Theo could enter the house, she waited until he was prepared to help her clear the home. They fell into step, searched each room, and eventually returned to the living room.

"I'll make the call," Theo murmured as Brook crouched beside the victim.

The onset of rigor mortis had begun, but Brook noticed the absence of a struggle. Had Janice invited her killer into the house? If so, such conduct would have suggested surprise—or trust—allowing the unsub to draw near enough to deliver the fatal slice.

Theo was still on the phone with Agent Tirelli, who would be the one to initiate the process of bringing the medical examiner and a forensics team to the crime scene. Brook stood and made her way back toward the kitchen. She came to a stop when she had views of both the sliding glass door through the kitchen and the chair placed near the living room window.

Brook snapped her fingers to garner Theo's attention.

The unsub had almost certainly left the sliding glass door unlocked so that he could come and go as he pleased, which meant that there was a chance he planned on coming back at some point in the near future. Her profile suggested otherwise. The unsub was too intelligent to overstay his welcome. He would have noticed right away that the neighbors noticed even the slightest disturbance in the community. Still, she couldn't risk not covering their bases.

"Tell Tirelli to keep this quiet," Brook directed after Theo pulled the phone away from his ear. "No radios, no sirens, and no cars. We'll sneak in the medical examiner and one forensic tech through the back door after dusk. There's a chance—a slim one—that the unsub plans to come back to the house."