Chapter 12
The bright overhead lights intensified the pasty white of the dead girl's skin. Noelle stood next to Jonah, peering at the marks on the victim as he visually examined the body. The reminder of how close she'd come to lying on the stainless-steel table with her neck in the V-shaped holder sent shivers racing up her spine. Not for the first time since her abduction and subsequent torture, she thanked God for bringing her through her living hell. There was no other way to describe it. Nightmare wasn't strong enough.
Her attention slid to the drain at the bottom of the table. She shivered. How did Jonah stomach the procedures day in and day out?
"Are you okay?" Jonah rested his hand on her arm.
She jerked her attention to him. "Just lost in thought. That's all."
He narrowed his gaze. "Stop going there."
"What?"
"You know what I'm talking about. Stop thinking about the what-ifs. You survived." Jonah reached up and tilted the overhead lamp to focus on the girl's head and neck area.
"It's hard not to let it seep in." She'd struggled with it for years. Her therapist had warned her to stop trying to ignore her memories or fears but to work through them. She thought she had—until now.
"Is this too much?" He motioned to the corpse.
"I'm good." She had to be. They needed answers, and Ken had given them a way to find them. Plus, if her serial killer was still out there—she shivered.
Jonah didn't look convinced, but he didn't push. "Then let's get to it."
Noelle's respect for the man had gone up several notches. It had taken him a minute or several, but he'd collected himself after his brush with death and the toxic fumes and had gotten to work examining the only physical solid evidence they had.
He rolled the girl's head to one side. When the space behind the ear appeared tattoo free, he rolled her the other way.
"There." He used his gloved pinkie finger to point to the familiar Chinese symbol. "It's not ink. The skin's burned. He branded her."
"Just like the others." The information whirled in Noelle's mind. "What about the cuts?"
Jonah pulled the sheet down, revealing the short, crisscrossed slices across the victim's upper arms and upper chest. "If this guy isn't the same sadistic excuse for a human as the original serial killer, he knows his methods."
Noelle's breath caught in her throat. The visual of the cuts made her want to hurl. Why had she thought she could handle examining a body? Photos were one thing, but real flesh that she could reach out and touch… The material of her blouse rubbed against her arms, making her scars ache.
"Noelle?" Jonah's hand gripped hers. "What can I do?"
Her eyes drifted up to meet his.
"You look a little green."
His words barely registered. In an odd way, she recognized the way her mind had pulled back to protect itself. Almost an out-of-body experience.
"Elle?" A snap echoed in a faraway place. Jonah cupped her cheeks. The warmth of his ungloved hands penetrated deep inside her. "Talk to me."
She blinked, then blinked again. The haze lifted. "Sorry."
"Nothing to be sorry about. You worried me, that's all."
"It's different."
"Than the images?"
She nodded. "Seeing the marks on actual skin other than mine… Let's just say it messed with my head."
"I can't imagine what you're going through, but I do know you're one tough lady. Not many people could go through what you did and come out whole on the other side."
Her laugh held no humor. "Who says I'm whole?"
His thumb traced her cheekbone. "I do. You amaze me."
She had no idea how to respond. "I'll let you finish. I'm going to step out and call everyone to meet at the EGA office."
Jonah studied her for a moment, then nodded. He replaced the nitrile gloves he must have shed before he'd touched her. "Sure. It'll take me a few minutes. I want to photo document the injuries in case our attacker comes back to destroy more evidence. I'll meet you in the hall after I finish. Then we can return our Jane Doe to cold storage."
Noelle nodded and rushed from the room. Her heart thundered in her chest, making it difficult to breathe. She leaned against the hallway wall and counted her breaths. The dark spots that danced in her vision dissipated.
God, after all these years, why am I having panic attacks now?
After spending years searching for evidence to identify her serial killer, she finally had a lead. But the gnawing in her gut refused to go away. If her killer still existed, rattling the proverbial cage might put her in the guy's crosshairs. She'd never survive—emotionally or physically—if he got his hands on her again.
* * *
The drive to the EGA office held an eerie silence that worried Jonah. Seeing the body of the Jane Doe had shaken Noelle, and he had no idea what to do about it. He sat in the passenger seat, unsure what to say to bring Noelle out of her funk. Not to mention his own anxiety. He snorted. Weren't they a pair?
He stared out the window, mulling over the evidence in both Ken's cases and Noelle's. So many similarities, yet different. His gut told him to chalk up the current cases to a copycat. But how did the new killer know the details? And if by chance it was the same person for both, he refused to stop until they had the man behind bars. He wouldn't—couldn't—allow the serial killer to get his hands on Noelle again.
She turned the corner and aimed the car toward the three-story house that EGA called home. The lush green trees and plants in the square across from the office beckoned him, the tranquility of the small park exactly what his battered nerves required. But a more pressing matter than his own peace of mind took priority.
Noelle pulled into the courtyard parking lot and shut off the engine. The trees shaded the vehicle, allowing a reprieve from the May sun. "Sorry."
He swung his attention to her and scrunched his forehead. "For what?"
"I kind of lost it back there." The sheepish grin that flashed on her face sent warmth flooding through his chest.
How could such a simple thing affect him so much? Unable to help himself, he brushed the backs of his fingers against her cheek. "You have nothing to be sorry for. I can't imagine the memories these cases have thrown at you."
"I've worked hard to keep the damage strictly to my skin. Seeing the cuts and branding up close sent my mind into a tailspin."
Jonah narrowed his gaze, searching hers for the meaning behind her statement. "That's not the first time you've used the word damaged to describe yourself. Why in the world would you think that? You're a successful woman who hasn't allowed what happened to you to ruin your life. Sure, you have scars, but that doesn't mean you aren't beautiful."
Her mouth opened, then closed. "Let's get inside. It looks like everyone is already here." She exited the vehicle and stood at the back bumper, waiting on him.
They'd come a long way, sharing their pasts with each other, but she continued to hold on to something. One more layer to her pain. And he desperately wanted to be the person she trusted to confide in. Today didn't appear to be that day. He sighed and joined her.
Mild humidity hung in the air, but the slight breeze that rustled through the trees in the courtyard cooled his skin. He'd love to sit on the patio with a glass of iced tea and enjoy Noelle's company. But with a killer on the loose and a target on his back, reality dictated the necessity of meeting with the others.
He placed his hand on the small of Noelle's back and escorted her to the entrance, the jolt of awareness a pleasant but unexpected reaction to the touch.
Her constant visual sweeping of the area brought the events of the past few days to the forefront of his mind. Was his attacker out there, waiting to take a shot at him again?
Once inside, Noelle strode toward the receptionist desk. "Morning, Raven."
"Noelle. Doc. Glad to see you're both okay." Raven gestured to the stairs. "They're upstairs in the conference room. I left water bottles for you, assuming the others didn't drink them. I mean, you know how Matt is." She rolled her eyes and muttered, "Goober."
Jonah pinched his lips together to hide his smile. Raven and Matt tended to annoy each other, yet he wondered about their behavior and the underlying reason. Wouldn't that be an interesting combo? "Thanks. We'll leave you to your work."
"Appreciate it, Doc." Raven focused on the computer that sat on the right side of her desk.
Noelle smirked. "Come on."
They climbed the stairs. She stopped by her office and tucked her purse into her desk drawer, then joined the others.
"Afternoon, everyone." Jonah greeted his friends.
A chorus of "Hey, Doc," "Good to see you, Doc," and "I'm glad you're okay, Doc" greeted him.
He moved to the two empty chairs next to each other and pulled one out for Noelle.
She arched an eyebrow but accepted the gesture.
His momma had raised a gentleman, and he refused to apologize for polite behavior. Besides, Noelle deserved to be treated like a treasure.
"Thank you all for coming." Noelle clasped her hands on the table.
He noticed the slight tremor but kept the fact to himself.
Noelle continued, "I'm assuming you've all reviewed the current cases and the cold cases."
"Plus, we have our additional research ready." Juliette lifted a small stack of papers.
Jonah leaned back in his chair and crossed his ankle over his knee, preparing to listen to the group do their thing. He excelled at autopsies and medical jargon, but criminal investigations were beyond his expertise.
"Perfect." Noelle grabbed a pad of paper and a pen from the center of the table. "I propose for simplicity's sake that we refer to the different sets of cases as current and cold."
"That works for me." Matt flipped open a file and clicked the top of a pen. "As a quick review, we have multiple autopsies that Ken falsified the records on. From his notes and photos, it appears the torture methods match or are similar to the injuries in Noelle's cold cases. The cuts and the brandings and tattoos are the same."
"Do we have cause of death on the cold cases?" Alana asked.
"I can answer that." Jonah spoke up. "From what I can conclude from the police reports and ME documents without doing an actual autopsy, all the victims we have information on died from sharp force injury to the abdomen."
"They bled out from a stab wound after he mutilated them." Decia scowled.
Noelle sucked in a breath.
Decia cringed. "Oh, girl. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean?—"
"No. You're right." Noelle fisted her hands. "That's exactly what he did."
"Why? What was his motive for doing that?" Juliette tilted her head. "Noelle, did he ask you questions? Did he say anything during your captivity?"
Jonah held his breath. The inquiries had become personal to Noelle. His attention never left her. If she even flinched, he wanted to hustle her away from everyone. But she needed to face the past head-on so she could put it behind her, no matter how painful.
Instead of falling apart, Noelle straightened in her chair and placed her hands in her lap. What he'd come to recognize as her law enforcement mask dropped into place. "Funny you should ask that. There are a lot of things I don't remember and a few that are fuzzy. I hadn't remembered his words until now. He kept asking if it was worth it."
"What was worth it?" Alana's nose scrunched.
Noelle's right shoulder rose and dropped. "I have no idea. It was almost like a mantra. He never waited for an answer. He'd ask, then slide the knife over my skin."
"I wonder if our current cases experienced the same thing." Matt went from clicking his pen to tapping it on the table.
"The cuts are similar. And let's not forget the Chinese symbol truth." Jonah slipped his hand under the table and clasped Noelle's.
"I'm assuming you confirmed the brandings on the two Jane Does." Decia's gaze met his.
"Yes. Both Jane Does have the exact marking that Noelle has, but it was burned—branded—into the skin instead of inked."
Matt rubbed his forehead. "Tattoos can be painful, but branding is a whole new level of cruelty."
"You're still thinking two different killers, aren't you?" Alana asked.
Matt stopped the tapping. "The ritual sounds similar, but I find it hard to believe the cold-case killer up and switched his methods."
"What if he couldn't tattoo his victims anymore? Would he change his technique?" Jonah had his opinion but wanted the professionals to weigh in.
Noelle shook her head. "I don't think he'd change."
"Run with that thought." Matt flipped his pen end to end through his fingers. If the man didn't stop with the pen, Jonah might throw the writing instrument across the room.
"The way he used the ink gun…" Noelle's forehead crinkled. "It had a professional feel to it."
Decia's finger tapped her lower lip. "I agree. If he was an artist, there's no way he'd switch to branding. It's too much a part of who he was. I suppose the change is possible, but I'm with Noelle on this. Let's not forget, the causes of death are different. According to the documentation, the causes of death were strangulation, overdose, among other things. Not exsanguination like the cold cases."
"So we're in agreement. Two sets of cases. Two different killers." Juliette's gaze swept the conference table.
"If that's true, then how does the current guy know so much about my serial killer?" Noelle's jaw twitched.
Matt threw his hands in the air and pushed a puff of air through his lips. "Great. Why can't it be simple? Two bad guys. And as for the cold cases, we're chasing a ghost."
"Exaggerate much?" Jonah shook his head. "Where do we go from here?"
"We break it into two different investigations." Decia leaned forward, her elbows on the table. "Then we find the thread that links them together."
The room grew silent.
Decia had voiced his internal question. The killers had a connection, but what? And where did his and Noelle's safety fall within the new madman's plan?
* * *
Noelle wiped her sweaty palms on her pant legs. The eyes of the others around the conference room table zeroed in on her, waiting for her reaction. Well, they'd have to wait, because she wasn't sure what to think. The memories hadn't overwhelmed her while digging into the cold cases. She'd kept a certain detachment. Photos and words on paper from the past were one thing. New victims in the present…something else. The terror she'd experienced as a teen hovered above, waiting for the perfect moment to envelop her and drown her.
Jonah's hand squeezed hers. The warmth of his touch grounded her in the moment. She willed her racing pulse to slow. "What do you need from me?"
"If you're okay with it, let's start with your abduction and move to our current cases." The sympathy in Decia's eyes gripped Noelle's heart and twisted.
She knew her marred skin would never hold the same smooth, unblemished perfection her mother had preached to her, but pity from her friends only enhanced her parents' reaction to her now-healed wounds.
The tightness of Jonah's grasp shoved the hurt into the background. "Ask your questions."
Jonah spoke first. "Tell us where you hung out as a teen and what you did for fun."
Matt's eyebrows rose. "Are you sure you aren't a detective?"
"Stuff it." Jonah gave his friend a playful scowl.
The mood in the room lightened. Her best friend had thrown her a soft ball, allowing her to ease into the past. She took a moment to consider his request before responding. "I tended to hang out with friends on Friday and Saturday nights. With practice for whichever sport I participated in at the time on the weekdays, I had no time to just relax. So, on the weekends, a group of us would go to the mall. We'd get ice cream at the food court and talk. Other times we'd walk around and window shop. None of us had the money to do more than that."
"Did anyone not like your group?" Juliette asked. "You know, the whole teenage drama thing."
"Not that I can remember." She searched her memory for even the slightest clue. "There was one kid. I always felt uneasy around him. He was a year younger than me. His father owned the convenience store where he worked. Our group would go there to grab snacks and drinks after school or after practice, depending on the day."
"What was it about him?" Alana leaned forward, her gaze pinned on Noelle as if she held a national secret.
"It was the way his gaze traveled up and down my body, like I was a prime rib dinner. But the weird thing—he'd scowl at me the whole time. I think his father noticed, because he'd yell at the kid to get to work." She'd forgotten all about the guy—and the creepy feelings.
"Name?" Matt's firm tone startled her.
She tilted her head back and stared at the ceiling. What was his name? "The store was called Henderson's Market." She snapped her head forward. "Yancy Henderson."
Matt jotted down the name. "I'll build a dossier on the guy."
Noelle shook her head. "Yancy's too young. The man who tortured me was probably in his forties."
"Like the dad?" Jonah asked.
"Maybe." Her brain struggled to keep up with the group's line of thought.
"Noelle."
Her gaze met Decia's.
"It's worth considering." Decia continued. "Anyone else stand out? Even if it seems impossible. Go with your gut."
How many times in the past had that internal voice saved her life? Too many to count. "My high-school art teacher, Mr. Larsen, paid a little too much attention to me. Or at least, it felt that way. He'd ask me to stay after class to discuss my work. Then he'd touch my shoulders and arms." She shivered as though Larsen's hands ran down her skin. "I'd insist I had to get to my next period and leave, but I sensed his eyes on me until I walked out of sight."
Jonah's fingers flexed in hers. "I don't like that guy."
She shifted to face him. "You don't even know him."
"I know enough." He practically growled the words.
"Age?" Matt's tone mimicked Jonah's.
"What's with the one-word questions?" She rolled her eyes. "I'd say mid-forties."
Matt grunted and continued to write on the notepad.
"And before you ask, that's it. I led a pretty boring life. I mean, sure, a couple of my father's clients hit on me when they came into town for a quick business trip. But none of them had the opportunity to pull off multiple murders."
"I want a list of every one of your father's clients that you can think of." Juliette's demure tone turned harsh.
"I agree." Decia flipped to a clean page on her notepad. "That's a start. Let's move on to what you remember about the abduction."
And here it came. The ultimate question. What did she remember? Too much for her peace of mind. Gaze on the wall across from her, she avoided any and all eye contact with the others.
She pulled in a steadying breath and detached herself from the events. "I had parked on the opposite side of the mall from my friends that day. When we said goodbye, I exited out the food court doors. Night had fallen and the parking lot lights had turned on. I remember an odd sensation. You know, that sixth sense that something isn't quite right. But I ignored it."
"You're doing good, Elle." Jonah's nickname for her eased the knot forming in her belly.
"I did what any single female does when walking alone. I had my car key between my fingers. A lot of good that did me." She huffed. "I hit the car fob to unlock my car. When I reached for the door handle, a hand closed over my mouth, and a needle stabbed me in the neck. I struggled to get away, but whatever the guy used didn't take long to knock me out. The next thing I knew, I woke up in a room inside a bare cabin or some kind of outbuilding—I'm not sure which—strapped to a chair." She could taste the musty room. Smell the sweat—hers and her killer's. The leather straps tight against her.
"Elle?" Jonah squeezed her knee.
She blinked away the consuming memory.
The rustle of papers registered in her brain. She glanced at Decia. "What is it?"
"From what we've uncovered, it seems you weren't the only one that happened to." Decia jotted a note in the margins. "Sorry. Please continue."
Noelle fought the nausea roiling in her stomach. "The guy came in and out of the room. Each time, he'd uncuff my hands and take me to the bathroom by gunpoint, then ask if I was ready to tell the truth yet while he…well, you know." Tears burned behind her eyes. Her skin flamed with pain as if it were happening right here—right now. "I had no idea what he meant. The night he tattooed me, he drugged me and laid me on a couch instead of sitting me in the chair—I'm assuming to get a better angle to get behind my ear. When he'd finished, he returned me to the chair and started to recuff my hands, but a noise caught his attention. I pretended to be out of it. Although, that wasn't hard to do. The drugs made it difficult to think straight, but I knew it might be my only chance to get away. He left before securing me. I wiggled out of the restraints and staggered to another door I'd seen him use. And the rest, as they say, is history."
Jonah lifted his hand and wiped his thumb under her eyes, drying the tears that streamed down her cheeks.
She brought her gaze to his, unwilling to face the others. But Jonah—he made her feel secure, almost whole again.
He cupped her cheek. "It's over. You did great."
His praise filled the cracks in her heart. With him by her side, she just might be able to face the past and not crumble.
* * *
Jonah resisted the urge to demand the team stop after Noelle had given the account of her abduction and torture. His jaw ached from clenching his teeth. The tremble of Noelle's hands in his unleashed a protectiveness within that he hadn't experienced in a long time—if ever. He wanted to take her away to a private island so she never had to worry about her serial killer again.
"Now that we have information and possible suspects to investigate on the cold cases, what do we have on the current ones?" Jonah steered the conversation away from Noelle. The team had asked a lot from her, and he'd risk everything to give her time to regroup.
"I'd like to reinterview the congressman and everyone in his office." Decia tapped her pen to her lips. "Something about the conversation with that man bothers me."
"Me too, but I'm not sure what." Noelle's tight grip relaxed.
"I'll take that assignment." Juliette spoke up. "Decia, if you'll shoot me the notes, I'll dig a little deeper and see what I can find."
"As soon as we finish, I'll email them to you." Decia jotted down the reminder.
"Has anyone interviewed the waitstaff at the restaurant about the two young woman who dined with the congressman?" Alana's gaze touched on everyone around the table. "Since that's a no, I'll do that."
Matt leaned back in his chair and swiveled side to side. "Since those girls were last seen there, that's a good call. And who knows, maybe there's a connection besides to the congressman. Another patron, maybe?"
"If the original killer was a tattoo artist, someone might know him from his work." Jonah shifted to face Noelle. "Let's get Raven's input on the tattoo shops in Savannah, then make a plan."
She nodded. "That's a great idea. Raven should be able to narrow down our search radius so we don't waste time."
Decia's phone buzzed. She glanced at it, then gathered her things and stood. "We have to go, but I think we have a good way forward. Stay in touch. We'll compare notes after we finish our assignments. Matt, you ready?"
The detective's chair popped forward. "Sure. See y'all later. Happy hunting." Matt strode from the room. "Yo, Decia, wait up?"
"Let's go pick Raven's brain." Noelle pushed from her seat.
Jonah closed his eyes and groaned. "Are we going to hear a history lesson about each tattoo shop?"
Alana laughed. "Probably."
"Fine. Come on, Elle. Raven awaits." He placed his hand on the small of Noelle's back and escorted her from the room.
After retrieving her purse, they maneuvered down the stairs in silence.
"Noelle. Doc. The detectives just left. I assume the meeting is over." Raven tucked a strand of long black hair behind her ear, highlighting her dangling skull earrings.
"We're finished." Jonah rested his elbows on the counter of her desk. "We need your help."
Raven mimicked him. "Shoot."
"What are the top five tattoo shops in Savannah?"
Her perfectly manicured brow rose. "Looking to get some ink, Doc?"
He chuckled. If only Raven knew his secret. After his white-coat ceremony as a doctor, he and his classmates had piled into a tattoo parlor. He'd chosen the tat Primum non nocere, the Latin phrase for First, do no harm, for the celebration—a mantra his mentor had drummed into him. Jonah shook his head at the memory. "Nope. Part of an investigation."
Raven grabbed a pen and notepad. "Anything special about the artwork?"
"Chinese symbols," Noelle added.
"Do you have a picture? A lot of artists sign their work."
Noelle froze. "Excuse me?"
The goth receptionist rolled her eyes. "Not like that. They leave a special flare to designate their art."
"Oh. In that case, hold on." Noelle retrieved her phone and scrolled through the photos. She stopped on one from the victims. "Here."
Raven held Noelle's wrist and studied the picture. "There's not much to go on, but I think I can give you the best places to start." She wrote down several names and handed the paper to Noelle. "Try those. But watch out for Mack at the Red Rose. He's a bit cranky."
Jonah smiled. "Thanks, Raven."
"Anytime, Doc."
He strode with Noelle toward the door. "What do you say we head to your place and grab something to eat while we take a look online and see what we can find out about these shops?"
"I want to do a little research on tattoos as well. I don't like going into a situation uneducated." When they approached the door, Noelle signaled him to stop. "Stay here for a second." She slipped on her sunglasses and exited the building.
For a moment, he'd forgotten about his attacker. He hated relinquishing his safety to Noelle. Not that he didn't trust her with his life—he did. But he had a protective streak for her, and the situation had stomped all over it.
She opened the door and motioned him to join her. "It's clear."
He stepped outside and scanned the area.
The reality of his situation sent a shiver running up his spine.
One simple mistake or misstep and he'd be singing with the angels, or so his grandmother used to say. They had to discover who'd killed Ken and had Jonah in their sights, because he couldn't live like this much longer.