By mid-afternoon on Monday Brett wasn’t any closer to proving his serial killer theory even after focusing most of his attention on it the whole day. He didn’t want to admit it, but it was looking more like Captain Ameling was right: there wasn’t enough of a pattern tying the deaths of these women together to blindly attribute it to one killer.

He hadn’t been able to find any more deaths on “payday” dates in Oregon. He’d expanded his search to include the entire state, but had only found one more murder. That one had been six years ago, and although it did fit the right dates and a matching killing method as one of the other women, someone had already been arrested and found guilty of the murder.

Brett leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes. Was he pushing? Looking too hard for a pattern that wasn’t really there?

His gut told him no. That there was something more. Something he was missing.

But his gut wasn’t going to get him anywhere with Captain Ameling. Brett needed something solid.

Maybe it would help if they could get more information about the woman from Friday’s crime scene. Brett walked over to Alex Olivier’s desk. Alex held the phone handset on one of his shoulders, but motioned to Brett to have a seat in the chair in front of his desk.

“What’s up?” Alex left the phone hanging on his shoulder. “I’m on hold waiting for some details about a homicide from a couple weeks ago.”

“Do we have any info from Friday’s scene? Confirmed cause of death? ID on the victim?”

Alex was the primary investigator on the case so all the info would go through him. Brett watched as the other man searched through some emails, phone still hanging off his shoulder.

“Let’s see. Here’s a tech report: in preliminary tests, nothing of any use found so far at the scene.” He scanned through more reports. “Victim ID? Nothing yet. Evidently there was some issue with the downtown coroner’s office and morgue this weekend. Water valve broke. Everything —including bodies and files— had to be relocated to secondary locations. It’s holding everything up.”

“Damn it.”

“Yeah, I want to find out who that lady is so we can notify her next of kin. Somebody’s got to be looking for her.”

“Thanks man, keep me posted.”

“I’ll do better. I’ll put your email on the list so you get any updates from the ME’s office or anything the crime techs find.”

Whoever Alex had been holding for picked up and Alex started talking. Brett waved and headed back to his desk. There was nothing he could do on this case until he knew a little more about the victim. Then he could see if she had anything in common with the other women besides gender and general age.

But Brett suspected that even when he could put a name to the victim he wouldn’t be able to tie her to any of the other women. The killer was too smart for that.

If there even was just one killer.

* * *

Paige walked into the downtown police station, the picture of the woman she’d drawn on Saturday night tucked in a file under her arm. It struck her as interesting that in the eight years she’d lived in Portland she’d only been here twice and both times were within forty-eight hours of each other.

When she’d been interviewed about her attack, the police officers had come to her, first in the hospital and then to her home. She’d been here on Saturday with Brett so they could call her security firm’s number. Although there had been people around then, it had been a weekend so anyone who wasn’t required to work hadn’t been around.

Now it was Monday and there were a lot of people here.

Her security team had given her a ride to the station and since they knew she was, ahem, friendly with Brett, they hadn’t given her grief when she told them she needed to go to the precinct.

But she wasn’t here to see Brett. As a matter of fact she was hoping she could get in and out of here without seeing him at all. She wasn’t visiting her boyfriend.

Because honestly, she wasn’t even sure if he could be called her boyfriend. They’d had a great night together Saturday night, and an even better morning yesterday morning —she could feel her core temperature rising just thinking about yesterday morning on the couch— but that didn’t mean she would call him her boyfriend.

But it didn’t matter because boyfriend or not she wasn’t here to see him. She had an appointment with a missing person detective named Schliesman because of what she had seen in the newspaper this morning.

A picture of a young woman. Not just any young woman, the exact one Paige had drawn Saturday night.

Her name was Teresa Cavasos.

There had been a missing person’s ad in the newspaper from the woman’s family. Evidently she had been missing since Thursday and the family and police were looking for any information.

Paige wasn’t stupid. She didn’t plan to tell the police that she had drawn the picture in her sleep. She already had a reputation as an attention-hungry kook around here. She would tell them she drew a lot and that she had drawn this picture of the woman in the last couple of days, and when she saw the woman’s picture in the paper thought it might help.

It wasn’t a perfect plan, but it was better than admitting the truth.

It wasn’t the woman herself that Paige hoped the police would find helpful in the drawing. It was the details around the woman. She was obviously in a parking lot and there were buildings that were unique in their shape and size. Paige didn’t know where they were located, but she hoped someone working the case might.

For the first time Paige could put one of the faces she had drawn to an actual name, which both excited and terrified her. If somehow she could help the police find this missing woman, then Paige had to try. Maybe it would make all the nights she’d lost drawing those painful pictures worth it. Just helping one woman would do that.

The precinct was busy and pretty overwhelming, but at least she felt safe here. Of course, her sister Adrienne had once been kidnapped in the middle of an FBI building by a psychotic killer, so maybe Paige shouldn’t feel too safe. But she wouldn’t hang around. She’d just do what she needed to do and get out.

Unless maybe she happened to run into Brett. Her not-boyfriend.

She stepped up to an overworked uniformed officer who was attempting to single-handedly direct people who came through the door and also answer the phones. “Excuse me, I have an appointment with Detective Schliesman who is working Teresa Cavasos’ missing person case.”

The man handed her a visitor’s pass. “Take a seat right there.” He pointed to some hard plastic chairs by the door. “I’ll call for your escort.”

The colors surrounding all the people were varied and dramatic, to be expected in a place full of both the best and the worst society had to offer. Although Paige did notice that sometimes it wasn’t always just the criminals with the dark, muddy colors. People’s intent wasn’t always obvious by the clothes they wore — uniform or not.

“Ms. Jeffries? I’m Detective Schliesman. You said on the phone that you have something pertinent about Teresa Cavasos’ possible disappearance?” She began leading Paige down a hall where it was a little more quiet.

“Yes, um, I’m an artist,” she told the older woman.

“I’ve heard of you.” The woman didn’t smile or give any sort of encouragement. The clear reds surrounding her assured Paige that Detective Schliesman was honest and a good person overall, but the woman was angry. Exhausted.

“I won’t waste any of your time, Detective. I just have this picture.” She got the drawing out of the file that held it. “It’s Teresa Cavasos, I’m sure.”

The detective didn’t take the picture like Paige expected. But the red surrounding the woman flared momentarily.

Although she hid it well, whatever Paige had just said caused a flash of irritation or anger to course through the other woman. That wasn’t good.

“Can you just hold that until we get to my desk, Ms. Jeffries?”

Paige didn’t understand, but nodded. “Sure.”

When they got to the woman’s desk, she surprised Paige again by pulling out a pair of latex gloves to grab the drawing. Without touching it anywhere with her own skin, Detective Schliesman placed the paper in a clear evidence bag.

So much for Paige’s concern that they wouldn’t take the drawing seriously or pay it any attention. Schliesman was definitely paying attention to it now.

“Please, sit down.” She gestured to the chair crammed into the small space between her desk and the one next to it. “You drew this, Ms. Jeffries?”

“Yes.”

“When was that?”

Paige wanted to keep as close to the truth as she could. “Saturday night.”

The woman looked at her through narrowed eyes. “Are you friends with Teresa Cavasos? Know her from somewhere?”

Paige had known these questions would be tricky. “No. I don’t know her.”

“But you drew what could only be called an amazing resemblance to her. With remarkable detail. Were you watching her? Studying her, in order to get this much detail?”

This was where Paige knew deviating from the truth was going to be necessary. “No. It’s an artist exercise. After a day of being around people, I try to pick one and recreate the person and scene from memory. I’ve gotten pretty good at it over the years.”

“And you happened to pick out Teresa Cavasos to draw on Saturday?”

And the red surrounding Detective Schliesman kept flaring. The woman was keeping her temper at bay, but just barely. She was frustrated and what Paige was telling her was not helping.

“Yes. Normally with this type of exercise I draw strangers and never know who they are and never think any more about it.” A partial truth — Paige never knew who she drew, but she definitely thought more about them. “But when I saw the ad in the paper Teresa’s family had taken out, I thought I would bring the picture down here.”

“Are you hoping to claim the reward?”

Paige shook her head. “No. No, I don’t need or want any money. I’m just trying to help.”

That was the absolute truth. But she was beginning to think this whole thing was a bad idea.

“Look.” Paige turned a little more towards Detective Schliesman ignoring all the chatter, ringing phones, and general chaos going on at desks all around them. “I don’t have any agenda here. I just wanted to bring this drawing because it has so much detail about the location around Teresa.”

“But you weren’t watching Teresa at that location?”

“No. I don’t recall seeing her at all. But an artist’s mind works differently somehow.” That was putting it mildly in her case. “I just drew what I pictured in my mind and here it is. It might be nothing.”

Another officer walked by and Detective Schliesman grabbed him, showing him the drawing. “Randal, you recognize this? The area in the background?”

The man stopped to look. “Whoa. Hey, isn’t that Teresa Cavasos?”

“Yep.”

“Isn’t she—”

“The background, Randal. Do you recognize that area in the back of the drawing? I just need confirmation of what I’m thinking.”

The man looked at the detective, then over at Paige then finally stared down at the picture.

“Yeah, sure Janet. It’s that fancy boutique strip mall over in Healy Heights, right? I can tell by the way the flowers are laid out over here and the angle of this building.” He pointed to the edge of the drawing.

“Thanks. That’s what I thought too.”

Relief coursed through Paige. The officers knew the area. So maybe this would help them, in some way, find the missing woman.

Randal handed the drawing back to Detective Schliesman. “Isn’t that strip mall just a couple blocks away from the hotel where—”

“Yep.” The woman definitely cut him off.

“And I thought this had turned over to hom—”

“Thanks for your help, Randal. We’ll talk later.”

The man was wise enough to know he wasn’t going to get a full sentence out around Detective Schliesman, so gave Paige one more look and left.

There was something going on here that Paige didn’t understand. But she had done what she had set out to do. She would let the police take it all from here. She stood up.

“That’s really all I had to offer, Detective. I hope it is helpful in some way.”

“Ms. Jeffries, do you mind waiting just a few more minutes? This drawing is very interesting and I’d like to show it to a few other people who might have some questions for you.”

The detective’s tone was as friendly as the smile on her face, but Paige could see the pulsing red that still dominated her entire person.

Detective Schliesman was angry. What Paige didn’t know was whether it was directed at her or the case or what.

“Well…”

“Let me take you somewhere where it’s not so chaotic to wait.” She gestured around her with her arm. “It can be overwhelming in here, I know.”

The woman took her and led her down the hallway, opening the door to a small room with a table and chairs. Paige had to admit, the quiet was a relief.

“If you could just wait here,” the other woman told her. “And this is a non-cell phone use room, if you don’t mind. I’ll be back in just a few minutes.”

Detective Schliesman didn’t wait for a response and the door closed behind her with a resounding click.

Paige looked around the room —gray walls with no decor whatsoever. There were cameras in two corners and a large mirror taking up the entire far wall. The only furniture was a sparse table with four medal chairs surrounding it.

Paige had seen enough TV to know where she was. She walked over to the door and tried to open it.

Locked. She went back and dropped down into one of the uncomfortable chairs.

She was in an interrogation room and was evidently now a suspect in Teresa Cavasos’ disappearance.