Chapter 5

CHAPTER FIVE

Sawyer leaned back in his chair and scrubbed a hand over his face. Nothing about Lindsey’s death made sense.

Dare leaned against the battered filing cabinet and hooked the heel of his boot on the drawer’s handle. “Is there any connection to the other murders?”

Sawyer took a deep breath and shook his head. “There’s not—not yet, anyway.”

The recent murders had shaken the once-quiet town of Brookhaven to its core. Last month, Jayla Simms had been found dead, her body posed on a park bench in the center of Brookhaven. Official cause of death was asphyxiation.

A few weeks later, Hilary Swanson’s remains had been found on a popular hiking trail, her body posed, just like Jayla’s. However, instead of asphyxiation, the medical examiner concluded that Hilary had died of severe blood loss as the result of what he suspected was a miscarriage.

Lindsey Gill had been abducted from her home in Brookhaven shortly after Jayla Simms had been found. From the state of her home, it appeared as though she was getting ready to leave for work when she was distracted by arrival of a visitor. Now, she was also dead, apparently due to blunt force trauma.

The pieces of the puzzle didn’t fit. Aside from the fact that all of the women had blonde hair and blue eyes, there were no common threads, no overlap in their lives aside from their looks. In the case of both Jayla and Hilary, the killer had scrubbed down every inch of the women’s bodies, using bleach to remove any trace of DNA. Lindsey’s fingers had been removed, most likely for the same reason.

But Lindsey’s manner of death was completely different. While she’d been placed where she would be found quickly, her death lacked the care taken with the other two women. Why?

“Lindsey Gill appears to have been brutally raped and beaten,” Sawyer said as he glanced at the crime scene photos. “Jayla and Hilary were both posed, as if the killer had cared for them. But Lindsey…” He shook his head. “He literally threw her away like trash.”

McCoy leaned forward, his eyes narrowing. “What are you thinking? A copycat?"

Sawyer ran a hand over his hair. "It’s possible. The level of brutality is higher, more chaotic."

Jensen rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "So we’re looking at a different killer. Someone trying to emulate the original but lacking the same level of control and planning."

"That's my theory," Sawyer said. “Both Simms and Swanson were kept for nearly a year before they were killed. Lindsey Gill was only missing for a couple of weeks. I think we need to treat this as a separate case for now. The killers’ methods are different, and the timeline doesn’t fit. We could be dealing with someone who’s aware of the previous murders and is trying to replicate them, but with their own twisted variations."

Dare sighed and rubbed his temples. "We already have the public in a panic over the Simms and Swanson cases. If word gets out that there’s a second killer on the loose..."

Yeah. It was going to be a clusterfuck. Sawyer glanced at Cam. “Why don’t you see what you can find out here? I’m going to head back to the alley, make sure we didn’t miss anything, then get the footage from the restaurant.”

Cam nodded. “I’ll keep you posted if I find anything.”

* * *

Sawyer’s eyes burned with fatigue, and his entire body felt weighed down by the emotional toll of the past twenty-four hours. The gruesome images of Lindsey Gill's brutalized body were seared into his mind, and the memory of her parents' devastated faces when he delivered the news gnawed at his heart.

He had been a detective for years, but it never got easier. Telling a family that their loved one was gone forever was the worst part of the job. It was moments like those that made him question why he chose this line of work. But deep down, he knew the answer. It was the need for justice, the desire to bring closure to families torn apart by violence and loss.

He sighed deeply and ran a hand through his disheveled hair. He had barely slept, managing only a quick nap before heading back to the station. The morning's confrontation with Brynlee was still fresh in his mind, adding another layer of frustration to his already foul mood. They always seemed to get off on the wrong foot.

Sawyer rubbed his temples. Despite his attempts to keep things cordial, their interactions always devolved into bickering. He knew Brynlee wasn’t entirely to blame. She was spirited and unpredictable, qualities that infuriated him as much as they intrigued him. But her free-spirited nature clashed with his need for order and control. It was like trying to mix oil and water.

And her damn cat, Scooter, was a constant thorn in his side. He’d returned home long enough this morning to grab a quick nap, shower, then head back outside—only to find the cat once again perched on the roof of his car. What a fucking pain in the ass.

He took a deep breath, trying to shake off the emotional fog. He needed to compartmentalize, to push his personal feelings aside and concentrate on the task at hand. Lindsey deserved justice, and he was determined to see it through. He needed to find answers—needed to bring the killer to justice, and to make sure this never happened again.

Grabbing the handle, he pushed the door open and stepped out onto the sidewalk. The sunlight was harsh now, revealing every detail of the grim scene with stark clarity.

He stepped over the threshold of the crime scene tape, his mind already shifting into high gear. The alley, once shrouded in darkness, was now laid bare under the midday sun. He approached the area where Lindsey's body had been discovered, his gaze sweeping over the grim surroundings.

Last night they’d collected what they could, but he wanted to go over it once more, scrutinize every single detail in the daylight. They couldn’t afford to miss a single thing. The smallest piece of evidence could lead them to the monster responsible for Lindsey's death.

He knelt down, carefully examining the ground near the dumpster. Pieces of broken glass, crumpled paper, and stained fabric littered the area. Each item was a potential clue. He carefully collected samples, placing them carefully into evidence bags with practiced efficiency.

"Nothing here," he muttered, standing up and moving to another section of the alley. He shifted his attention to a nearby stack of cardboard boxes. The alley smelled of refuse and decay, the odor a harsh reminder of the brutality that had taken place. He rifled through the boxes, checking for any signs of tampering or discarded items that might have been missed during the initial sweep.

His mind flashed back to the Gills, the anguish etched into their faces when he had delivered the news. The memory of their tears and pleas for answers was a relentless burden, fueling his determination to solve the case. He couldn’t bear to see that kind of devastation again. They needed justice, and he was going to give it to them, no matter the cost.

Sawyer moved to the far end of the alley, where the grime and detritus accumulated more densely. He scrutinized every inch of the area, pushing aside trash and debris with methodical precision. Each piece of evidence was cataloged and bagged, each small detail noted in his notebook. His frustration mounted with each unremarkable find, but he refused to let it deter him.

As he worked, the sound of distant voices and the hum of traffic arose as the small town stirred to life around him. Sawyer remained focused, his eyes scanning the ground for anything that might have been overlooked. Even the smallest detail could be the key to unlocking the case.

He stood up with a sigh, surveying the alley one last time as the weight of the day settled heavily over him. He couldn’t afford to let his guard down. The killer was still out there, and Lindsey’s case was far from closed. They would need to follow up on every lead, analyze every piece of evidence. Sawyer was resolute, determined to find the monster responsible and bring them to justice. For Lindsey, for her family, and for every victim who deserved closure, he wouldn’t rest until the case was solved.

Sawyer turned in place, taking in his surroundings. The alley was fairly narrow, maybe only eight feet wide. It was flanked by the restaurant on one side, a small floral shop on the other. There was a single outdoor bulb situated over the door of the restaurant, but nothing on the side where the florist was located.

His gaze swept along the roofline of the restaurant, and he noticed a camera situated high in the corner. Following the trajectory, he imagined it would cover the area near the door to catch people coming and going from the alley. He needed that footage.