Chapter Fifty Two

Agent Turner stood facing the latest array of photographs affixed to the large whiteboard in his office. Like countless previous FBI crime investigations, the details of the Mummy Man case were laid out like a storyboard. Photos and cards with only one or two words printed on them were arranged in groups representing persons of interest and the facts of the case.

During the course of an investigation, theories would be put forward to be either proven or debunked entirely. As information was gleaned from witnesses and forensic analysis, he and Rene would move the images, names, dates, and other facts around on the board until the case was solved. Then another would take its place.

After the case was solved, the contents of the white board would go into storage with the rest of the case evidence. Eventually, the evidence would be sent to the legal eagles preparing the case for trial, or to a nondescript, long-term storage facility that housed the ghosts of crimes past.

Rene worked quietly at her desk. Every now and then she would look at her partner, as if willing him to make the connection that seemed so close and yet so far away. Every case was different and, ironically enough, the same.

“It’s the only thing that makes sense.”

That got her full attention. Her head jerked up and she straightened in her chair. “What?”

“All of the victims were married. Every single one of them.”

“Which leads me to ask why he didn’t just take their wedding rings as trophies?”

“Because he’s smart enough to know we’d catch it.”

“And yet he didn’t care about us noticing that all the killings were done mummy-style.”

“That’s a compulsion that he finds necessary in order for him to experience the gratification he yearns for. Now, taking personal items is different. The items he takes may represent some personal vendetta from his past. Serial killers are no different than average citizens; our past shapes us.”

“Kinda makes you wonder how he picks the trophies,” she said, more to herself than him. “Maybe he’s like a fuckin’ rat, and the shiniest trinket gets his attention.”

“He doesn’t seem at all concerned with the race, social class or sexual preference of his victims. Marriage is the one thing they all have in common, though.”

“Think he has something against holy matrimony?” she chuckled.

“Always the profiler, aren’t you? You’ll get your chance to interrogate him after we catch him.”

She leaned in and whispered conspiratorially, “Not if he’s…unavailable. You’ve lined up resources for some discreet surveillance, right? And information is power.”

That got his attention. He strode over to her desk and lifted her chin with one finger, forcing her to look him in the eye. Regarding her through narrowed eyes, he warned, “Be careful, Rene.”

She met his grim gaze with her best poker face. “You know me. I always am.”

He stared down into the face he loved so much, then leaned down and kissed her softly. “I know you are.”

He took his phone out of his pocket and pulled up the GPS app, turning the phone toward Rene so they could both look at the map on the screen. He frowned as he watched the small dot moving toward the outskirts of town. “Well, this is interesting.”