CHAPTER FOUR

Detective Hilary was waiting for the agents in the lobby of their hotel early the next morning. He was a middle-aged man with close-cropped gray hair and a well-trimmed mustache. He was the same height and roughly the same weight as Michael, though possibly a little softer around the middle.

"I'm sorry to keep you waiting," he said. "My mother's health is very poor right now. I had to rush her to the hospital for emergency surgery last night."

Faith felt a stab of guilt at her cynical assumption that Hilary was pouting over the FBI's involvement in the case. "I'm sorry to hear that. Are you sure you can work with us today? It's all right if you need to be with her."

He shook his head. "Thank you, but she's all right for now. My sister's staying with her today. Besides, I would very much like for this freak to be found sooner rather than later. I'm not interested in dealing with the next Franklin West in my city."

Faith stiffened slightly and hoped that Hilary didn't notice. She really hoped that West wouldn't become the standard by which all killers were measured from now on. Jethro Trammell's short-lived tenure at that spot had produced Franklin West. She shuddered to think what kind of killer West might inspire.

This is your fault, Bold.

She pushed the image from her mind and asked, "Can you take us to Samantha Reynard's apartment?"

"Sure can. It's actually not far from here. She lived in one of the newer high-rises downtown."

The four of them took Hilary's cruiser to the building. It was a twelve-story building of modern construction nestled among several similar buildings within a mile of the much taller office buildings that dominated the second-most impressive skyline in the United States.

"She lived on the top floor in the loft apartment," Hilary said, flashing his badge at the security officer and leading them to the elevator. "The body's been taken, of course, but we've left the scene intact. CSI took a small sample of the white powder that was scattered over her body, but otherwise, the room is as it was when we arrived yesterday morning."

"Who called it in?" Michael asked.

"Building super. He showed up for an annual maintenance inspection and found the door ajar. He pushed it open and saw Samantha's legs sticking out. He said it was clear that she was naked, and when she didn't answer to her name, he called the police. Never went in the room. Said he didn't want people to think he was the one."

"Does he have an alibi for the night before?" Faith asked.

"Well, security cameras showed him leaving the building at seven the night before he found her. Coroner estimates time of death for Samantha between seven and nine."

"Got it. And nothing on the security footage that seems suspicious."

"No, but the footage isn't perfect. We're thinking the guy got in through the fire escape outside her window."

They reached the room, and Hilary led them inside. Turk immediately put his nose to the ground and trotted around, probably looking for whatever smell caught his attention the night before.

The room was modestly but tastefully furnished. The furniture was inexpensive but good quality and arranged so that there were no right angles to be seen. The living room was dominated by a large neoprene mat in place of a rug. There was no coffee table and no television. Samantha clearly took her yoga lifestyle seriously.

The mat was covered in tape outlining the position of Samantha Reynard's body. A larger outline delineated the extent of the white powder found with her body. Faith bent low and sifted a little of the powder in between her fingers. The texture was reminiscent of baby powder. Some sort of talcum or clay?

"Did Samantha have a boyfriend?" Michael asked.

"She did. Giacomo Medici."

"Cool name."

"Samantha thought so, I guess. He was out of town at a jiu-jitsu tournament. He's on his way back now. Would've been back yesterday, but they delayed his flight because of some storm in Brazil. Obviously, his alibi's ironclad."

Faith walked around the tape. The powder sat in small drifts separated by the outline of Samantha's body. "The body was posed first, then the powder was sprinkled over her."

Hilary nodded. "It looks like the powder was the last thing the perp did."

"He probably wanted to avoid leaving footprints and fingerprints," Michael suggested.

"Have you found the clothes she was wearing?" Faith asked Hilary.

The detective shook his head. "Not hers and not Cassidy Holt's either. The killer took it with him."

"A trophy?" Michael asked.

"Maybe," Faith replied. "If sex really was a motivator, then probably. But it could have just been removing evidence. Did we find any fingerprints on the body?"

"You'll have to ask the medical examiner," Hilary replied. "He hasn't released a report yet. I'm going to guess no, because that's something he'd call to tell us in a homicide case so we wouldn't have to wait for the paperwork."

"Can we talk to him?"

"Sure. He gets to work in an hour or so. I'll take you there when we're done here."

"You said the front door was ajar," Michael said. "Wouldn't the security cameras have picked up our killer if he left that way?"

"You'd think so, but they only picked up the door opening slightly. No one left the room."

"Samantha trying to escape?"

"Without screaming? I doubt it. I think the perp was going to leave through the front door then remembered the cameras and left the way he came."

"Did you find any fingerprints or footprints on the fire escape?" Faith asked.

"No prints, but some scuff marks that CSI tells me came from rubber-soled boots or shoes."

"Aren't all soles rubber?"

"No. Most of them are plastic foam these days. Some are synthetic fiber. You don't usually find real rubber unless it's a waterproof shoe or a nonslip work boot."

Faith nodded and looked at the outline on the floor. "So Cassidy Holt was posed hugging her knees with her head tucked while Samantha Reynard was posed with her arms and legs spread in an X."

"Yes."

"Black powder on Cassidy Holt and white powder on Samantha Reynard," Faith continued. "In both cases, the killer was familiar with the security situation and managed to reach his victims, commit the murders, stage the bodies and flee the scenes without being caught."

"He did his research," Michael deduced.

"Yes. And he took his time. Brower might think that anyone could fool the security cameras at the Botanical Garden, but the same isn't true here. I don't think our killer winged it. I think he thoroughly cased both locations before he acted."

Hilary anticipated Faith's next request. "I'll have my detectives look back at the camera footage and see if we can identify anyone who hung around both places a little too much lately."

"Do that," Faith agreed.

Michael crossed his arms pensively. "I don't know if he planned things that well. I get casing someone's apartment and committing a home invasion murder, but the Botanic Garden is a high-traffic public place. I don't buy him planning to kill Cassidy Holt there."

"He could have known her plans and taken that opportunity," Faith offered.

"Yes, but then he's not casing the place carefully. I suppose he could have just gotten lucky and avoided all the cameras the way Brower suggested, but why? Why risk committing the crime in a place with security officers, cleaning crew and maintenance staff?"

"Well, he did kill her there."

"Yes, but think about it. If he wanted to truly be aware of the Botanic Gardens' security situation, he would have had to visit several times. Cassidy only made her plans that day. Why would he plan to kill her there when he had no way of knowing if she'd be there when he was ready to strike?"

Faith chewed on her lip. "Maybe he was aware of her plans before she called the garden. It would make sense that our killer knows both victims. We should start looking into that. Hilary?"

"Yes?"

"Have your officers look through Cassidy Holt's clients and associates. See if any of them knew Samantha Reynard. Maybe one of her students."

"I'll do that."

Faith walked in a circle around the scene and tried to imagine the killer's actions. It was difficult to know for sure how the crime had started or where the actual murder was committed. With no blood splatter to tell her where Samantha Reynard was killed, she could only guess at the timeline.

The killer had entered through the fire escape. "Where's the fire escape?" she asked.

"Bedroom," Hilary replied. "Through that door."

Faith walked into the bedroom. Like the living room, the bedroom was simple and comfortable. This room had a tv sitting opposite the bed, Evidently, Samantha watched her shows in here.

The fire escape was just outside the window on the wall opposite the door. Faith followed the killer's path from the window around the bed to the door. She turned and saw that from where she was standing, the living room was hidden.

So he sneaked up to the living room , she thought, and hid here just around the corner.

She crouched low. From here, she could see anyone standing up in the living room, while the shadows cast by an unlit hallway at night would keep her from view.

"He waited here for his chance," Faith deduced, "and when her back was turned, he struck. I'm thinking she probably finished her routine, then either went to the kitchen to make dinner or sat down in the easy chair. He crept up behind her, grabbed her and snap."

"Then he takes her clothes off," Matt continues. "Disposes of them somehow, positions her body and then sprinkles the powder on her."

"So we have a good understanding of how," Faith said. "What we don't know is why."

They fell silent for a little while, trying to digest the mystery behind these murders. The details were important here. Why naked? Why posed. What message was he trying to send?

She imagined being Samantha, finishing up her yoga routine for the evening and basking in the sense of peace and accomplishment that would come with such an action. Safe in her own home, the one place where no one should have to worry about being targeted. Then, hands slip around her neck, and before she can scream, her lights are turned off.

Turk trotted up to them, snorting in confusion.

"Found something, boy?"

As he had the day before at the Botanic Garden, Turk looked around pensively. He was close to something, but he couldn't quite figure out what it was.

"We'll get 'em, boy," she encouraged. "Don't worry about it."

Turk dipped his head and snorted irritably. Faith ruffled his fur, then stood straight. "How far away is the medical examiner's office?"

"Close enough that we have time to stop for donuts and coffee if you want," Hilary offered.

"I'm not hungry," Faith demurred. "And we can get coffee later. This killer's already moving fast, so we need to move faster."

"I'm never one to turn down coffee," Michael said, "but I agree with Faith. Two murders this close together always means a third one coming soon. I'd rather catch this guy before that happens."

What he didn't mention was that they had yet to succeed in stopping a killer before the third victim. Considering how many mysteries surrounded this case, Faith didn't have a lot of confidence that this would be their first victory. Still, she allowed herself to hope. There was a first time for everything. Maybe this would be the first time she could solve a case without staring at the body of an innocent person murdered right under her nose.