Chapter 31

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

Unsurprisingly, none of the leads panned out. One of the employees from the rental agency had been charged with petty theft more than ten years ago when he was a teenager. Another had several moving violations, but nothing damning.

Sawyer stared at the crime scene photos spread out on his desk. Three women, three brutal murders, and a seemingly invisible thread tying them together. He turned his attention to the map pinned to the wall of his office. Red pushpins marked the locations of the victims’ homes, while blue pins indicated where their bodies had been found.

He picked up a marker and drew lines between the points. The web that formed looked almost random, but he knew there was a method to the madness; he just had to uncover it.

“Where are you, you bastard?” Sawyer he murmured aloud, his eyes scanning the circle for potential hiding places. Industrial areas, remote farmhouses, and abandoned buildings—anywhere the killer could operate unnoticed.

Cam moved into the room and dropped into his chair. “Anything?”

Sawyer crossed his arms over his chest, then leaned back against the desk and shook his head, eyes still glued to the map. “Not a damn thing.”

“Maybe you were on to something with the accident reports,” Cam said. “Why don’t we go talk with Jayla and Hilary’s parents again, see if they remember anything?”

Sawyer sighed, frustration coursing through him. “Let’s split up, it’ll be faster that way. I’ll take the Simms, you take the Swansons.”

* * *

Sawyer Reed stood at the end of the walkway leading to Mr. and Mrs. Simms's front door, his heart heavy with the task ahead. He'd been here before, more times than he cared to admit, but each visit only deepened his resolve to find Jayla’s killer.

He straightened his shoulders and knocked. Mrs. Simms answered, her eyes dull with grief. "Detective Reed," she said softly, stepping aside to let him in.

"I'm sorry to bother you again, Mrs. Simms," Sawyer began, his voice laced with genuine regret. "I know how difficult this is, but I need to ask a few more questions. I want to make sure we haven't missed anything. I want to bring Jayla's killer to justice."

Mrs. Simms nodded, gesturing for him to sit in the living room. Mr. Simms was already there, staring blankly at the television. He acknowledged Sawyer with a slight nod, the exhaustion in his eyes mirrored in the deep lines that creased his face.

Sawyer settled into the armchair across from them, deciding it was best to jump right in. They’d been through enough; they didn’t need to drag it out any more than necessary. "I know we’ve discussed this before, but I need to ask if anything unusual happened in the month or so before Jayla's abduction."

The room was silent for a moment, the only sound the ticking of a clock on the mantel. Mrs. Simms furrowed her brow, thinking back. "I can't remember anything out of the ordinary," she said with a small shake of her head.

“Did she do anything different—jury duty, volunteer work, have anything fixed or replaced?”

Mrs. Simms started to shake her head again, then froze, her expression shifting. “Now that you mention it… A few months before she disappeared, Jayla was in a car accident. Nothing major, of course.” She held up a hand in his direction. “Someone rear-ended her at a red light. "

Sawyer's interest piqued. "Do you remember where she had the car repaired? And did she rent a vehicle while it was being fixed?”

Mrs. Simms shook her head. "She took it to a mechanic not far from here—Riverside Auto Repair. It was a small job, just the bumper needed some work. It only took about a day, so she didn't need to rent a car or anything like that."

“Thank you for your help.” He stood, and they rose with him. "Again, I'm sorry to bring this up. I know it can't be easy."

Mrs. Simms managed a weak smile. "We just want whoever did this to be caught. Thank you for not giving up."

Sawyer gave a tight nod, then made his way out to his car and headed toward Riverside Auto Repair. The small-town garage had seen more than its fair share of wear and tear. The exterior was a faded yellow, chipped paint clinging stubbornly to weathered wood. A rusty sign creaked in the breeze, proclaiming "Riverside Auto Repair" in peeling letters. The lot was littered with the carcasses of old cars, some stripped for parts, others seemingly forgotten by their owners.

Sawyer parked his car and stepped out, the sharp scent of oil and grease hitting him immediately. He could hear the faint clatter of tools from the open bay doors, where a mechanic was working on an old truck. Sawyer stepped inside the small office area and approached the front desk, where a burly man was hunched over an ancient computer.

"Excuse me," Sawyer said, pulling out his badge and holding it up. "I'm Detective Reed, investigating the murder of Jayla Simms. I understand her car was repaired here about a year ago.”

The man looked up, his flicking to Sawyer’s badge, then back up to his face. “What’d you say the name was?”

“Simms.”

The man tapped at the keyboard for a moment, then paused, eyes glued to the screen, presumably reading. After a moment, he nodded. “Yeah, I remember her. Minor damage to the rear end. Fixed the bumper and sent her on her way."

Sawyer asked a few more routine questions, then thanked the man and headed back to his car. He climbed back inside and steered toward the station. He needed the accident report from the other precinct. It was a long shot, but if there was anything off about the driver, it might give him a lead.

As Sawyer made his way down the corridor inside the sheriff’s department, he spotted Cam stepping out of Dare’s office, a thick file in hand.

"Hey.” Sawyer quickened his pace to catch up. "You got anything new?"

Cam shook his head. “I just got back from the Swansons. Hilary was never involved in a car accident—never even had a speeding ticket."

Sawyer felt his own frustration flare, a mix of anger and disappointment tightening his chest. "Damn it," he muttered under his breath, running a hand through his hair in agitation. The car accidents had seemed like a promising lead. “That means we're back to square one. I was hoping we'd found a pattern with these car troubles."

Cam nodded, his expression mirroring Sawyer's frustration. "It was a good lead, but it looks like it was just a coincidence. Hilary's clean as a whistle."

Sawyer could feel the case slipping through his fingers again. He had been so close to thinking they might have something, a way to tie these women together beyond the gruesome fates they had met.

“Whoever this is can move through town completely undetected. He blends in, seems safe. Someone with access to information, making it look random but connected. Like…” Sawyer paused and glanced around the station. “A cop?”

Cam considered the possibility, his brow furrowing as he weighed the idea. "It's possible, but these incidents happened in different cities," he pointed out. "It'd be hard to coordinate, but not impossible."

Sawyer clenched his molars together. The thought of a rogue cop—or someone with access to police information—sent a chill down his spine. If that were the case, it meant their suspect was not only meticulous but also had resources at his disposal that most people didn't. "I need that accident report for Jayla," Sawyer said, his voice edged with determination. "Maybe it'll tell us something."

"Get it, and let's hope it gives us a direction," Cam replied, though he didn’t sound particularly hopeful.

As Cam turned back to his office, Sawyer headed for his desk, already mentally drafting the request for the accident report. The precinct felt smaller today, the walls closing in as the pressure mounted. They were chasing a killer who was always one step ahead, and every dead end, every false lead, only added to the mounting tension.

Sawyer reached his desk and sat down heavily, the chair creaking under him. He quickly logged into his computer and pulled up the system to request the accident report. As his fingers moved across the keyboard, his mind raced.

The idea that the killer could be someone with insider knowledge gnawed at him. It was a terrifying prospect, one that opened up a whole new set of questions. Who could it be? A cop, a mechanic, someone who worked in insurance, or just someone who knew how to exploit the system? The possibilities were endless, and that made it all the more dangerous.

The accident report request was submitted, but Sawyer knew it would take some time to process. He leaned back in his chair, his gaze unfocused as he stared at the wall, his thoughts spiraling. Every minute that passed was another minute the killer remained free, possibly planning his next move, possibly watching them as they scrambled to catch up.

The clock was ticking, and they were running out of time to stop a predator who was not only dangerous, but also smart—smart enough to stay ahead of them at every turn. And the worst part was, Sawyer couldn't shake the feeling that they were missing something, some crucial detail that could blow the case wide open.