The task force settled down with their cups of coffee and bagels, and prepared for Suki's presentation. She took a sip of the coffee she’d refilled in the department’s break room and grimaced. Sean knew how she felt. In his seven years working for the FBI, he had yet to find a decent cup of liquid caffeine in any of the police stations he’d visited. He knew she was missing her own supply of expensive, gourmet coffee she kept in her office—she was a self-admitted connoisseur and snob of good brew. Looking up at the group of men seated around the table, she took a deep breath and began her report. "I've read through the files and autopsy reports and believe I’ve come up with a pretty accurate profile on your killer."

"How accurate is accurate?" Rafe asked. It was evident to Sean that the detective was not only interested in the profiler as a woman, but he respected her professional input as well.

"Well, with profiling there’s always room for adjustment. It’s an ongoing process that evolves with each kill and crime scene. I may need to tweak my analysis a little when I get ahold of the entire Philadelphia case file. However, I believe I’m about ninety percent accurate with this one.”

She stood and began pacing the room. Sean knew it was a habit she found helped her thought process. “You’re looking for a male in his late thirties or forties with average or just above average intelligence and educational level. He will be able to blend in with his surroundings and is probably considered by many to be a model citizen. His neighbors have nothing bad to say about him, he holds a good job and may even be married to, or dating, a woman who’s the opposite of his victims. In other words, a shy, dark-haired plain Jane who wears frumpy or old-fashioned clothes. He probably comes from a single parent home raised by an abusive mother. Something set him off in Philadelphia and, due to the fact the first victim there was a prostitute and he’s carving the word ‘slut’ into them, my guess is the victim propositioned him.

“His first kill surprised him—it wasn’t something he’d planned. From the initial report we received, it seemed to be a disorganized kill—he didn’t try to revive her after strangling her, and the carved torso was done postmortem. However, when it was all over, he realized he enjoyed it—it turned him on. He gained more and more confidence with each kill and, as a result, became more organized. And now with the publicity, it’s very possible he’ll increase the frequency of his kills."

Lynch’s eyes widened. "You mean he's not going to wait a month?"

The doctor shook her head. "I don’t think so. He's had a taste of fame now and he's going to enjoy it."

"Great, that's just fucking great.” Brad brought his fingers to his temples and rubbed them. “We may have a profile now, but it brings us no fucking closer to catching this asshole. That description could be any one of the hundreds of thousands of men in the county."

"That may be," Sean replied, "but at least if we start coming up with suspects we can narrow them down."

"I think these women have all been victims of opportunity," Suki continued. “I don’t believe he stalked them, and the first time he met them was the night he killed them.”

Sean leaned back in his chair, flipping a pen through his fingers. “So he went looking for a certain type of woman, found her, and zeroed right in on her. The first five victims were all placed where they would be found relatively quickly. Why was Daphne Jones further off the beaten path, literally?”

“Could be something as simple as he got spooked. Maybe while he was disposing of the body in the park, he heard someone coming and had to hide.”

“Okay,” Brian interjected, “here’s another question. Why the three kills in Pennsylvania, one each month, then nothing until he started up again down here? They obviously had no suspects up there and it hadn’t hit the media. He wasn’t about to be discovered, so why move down here? Why not stay where he was having, I hate to say it, success? It’s not like he ran out of victims.”

Suki shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t think his move to North Carolina had anything to do with his kills, his victims, or a chance of being discovered. Maybe his job transferred him or he moved due to family reasons. As long as he has a large pool of victims to choose from, it really doesn’t matter where he lives.”

"Hopefully, he'll start screwing up somewhere and give us a lead, because right now we’ve got nothing." Sean turned on his laptop, checked his e-mails, and found one from Mark Evans, the tech at the FBI lab who was running the DNA. He opened the message and then told the rest of the task force what it entailed. "Mark put a rush on the DNA for me. Like I expected, it didn't match anybody in the system. However, if we come up with a suspect at least we have a sample to compare to." He glanced at Lynch. "Have we gotten anything on the tip line yet?"

The man sighed in frustration. "Fuck, yeah. I haven’t listened to them yet, but I checked just before I came in here and there were a hundred and forty-two messages. It'll take me an hour or two just to listen to them all. When I’m done we can split them up and start weeding out the crazies. Doc, do you have anything else for us?"

Pulling out her chair, Suki sat down "The only other thing is the pennies. I agree with Sean’s theory that the 1993 date has some sort of significance for the UNSUB, but what that is, we may never know, unless he tells us. That’s pretty much it, but I may have more after I receive the rest of the files from Philadelphia."

"In that case, I’m going to update Griffin, then start on that list of tips."

After Brad left the room, Sean finished browsing his laptop. "There are no other hits on the parameters I entered into the system. It looks like Philadelphia was his starting point. Now we just have to figure out why.”

For the next hour Sean and Suki reviewed the case files again, along with their notes, while Brian and Rafe added the profile and other info to the whiteboards. Just after nine thirty an FBI courier arrived with the Philadelphia case files. The two federal agents dug in and began looking for something that could possibly lead them to a suspect. Meanwhile, the state investigators went to get a list of tips from Brad they could start to explore.

Around three o'clock, Sean stepped out into the hallway and took a moment to call Grace. She answered her phone on the second ring, and it surprised him how pleased he was just to hear her voice.

"Hi, Sean, how's your day going?"

"Much better now that I'm speaking to you. How about you? Was everything delivered on time?"

Grace let out a little laugh. "Yes, the delivery truck showed up at ten o'clock. I now have my chairs, the PT tables, and the washer/dryer. Since there was nothing else to do over there today I've been helping Bonnie out at the boutique."

"Great. Listen, Suki is only going to be here for one more night and I wanted to invite you over for dinner so you could get to know her. She's really a great person and I think you two would really like each other. I was going to grab some steaks and throw them on the grill. So what do you say?"

"That sounds good and I guess I owe her an apology for this morning,” she said wryly.

"I wouldn't worry about that—I'm sure she's already forgotten all about it. We should be out of here by five and we’ll stop at the grocery store on the way home. Why don't you meet us at the beach house at six?"

"Why don't I save you the trouble and go to the grocery store myself. I'll meet you around five thirty then.”

"If you don't mind, that’d be great. I’ll call if we’re going to be late, otherwise, I’ll see you at five thirty."

Sean hung up the phone as Suki came out of the ladies room. She stopped in front of him. "Are you sure you don't mind me staying one more night?"

"Not at all. I'd really like you to get to know Grace anyway."

"I like her already; I think she's good for you."

A wide grin spread across his face. "So do I. Let's get back to work and catch this fucker so I can spend the rest of my vacation getting to know her a lot better."

* * *

Jessica Daly hung up the phone and smiled. Her source at the sheriff's department had come through and she was going to out-scoop her competition again. By the time those gun-toting imbeciles caught this killer, she’d be in a prime position to put in for another raise at the network. Maybe she’d even get the coveted anchor position on the six o’clock news she’d be working toward her whole career.

If she could get her hands on everything the detectives had, she’d probably be able to solve the case herself. She had great investigative instincts and a talent for getting people to talk. Over the past few years, her list of informants had grown to the point she could get information no matter what it was or who it involved. Most of her contacts were men—men who were so predictable. Show a little cleavage and the flood gates that were their mouths opened up and poured forth.

Sitting at her desk in the newsroom, she glanced at the wall clock. It was just after three in the afternoon, which only gave her an hour or so before she had to be in front of the camera and tape her report in time for the 5:30 p.m. deadline. First thing’s first though—she called cameraman Marty Kendall and told him to get his gear ready and meet her at the news van at three forty-five sharp.

“And don’t make me wait for you this time,” she barked before hanging up. Jessica hated people who were slackers on the job and Marty was always late. Sometimes she thought he did it on purpose, but soon that wouldn’t matter—this serial killer was her ticket off the street and into the anchor chair.

She tried to decide where she wanted to film her brief—in front of the sheriff’s department, the medical examiner’s office, the last crime scene, or the bar where Daphne Jones disappeared from? Which would have the largest impact? With the information she’d just gained from her source, she opted for the ME’s office. Turning on her computer, she started to type exactly what she wanted to say. This was going to be big, she told herself—bigger than big; it was going to be fucking huge.

At ten after four, they pulled into the parking lot of the municipal building that housed the Dare County medical examiner’s office. The weather was still warm and slightly overcast, but Jessica found this was the best lighting for her when filming outdoors. She thought she looked too pale on TV when it was bright and sunny out. She flipped down the passenger’s visor to fix her hair and makeup. Marty parked the van and as he started to hop out, she snapped, “Hurry and get everything set. I want this filmed and ready for the top of the six.” Having the lead story on the evening news was something all the street reporters fought over, and tonight it would be a no-brainer with Jessica’s story.

Marty mumbled something she didn’t hear and, truthfully, didn’t care about. He may be slow and lazy, but when it came to actually filming, he was the best cameraman they had, and that was all that mattered to her. As long as she looked good on her newscasts she could put up with all the other bullshit that came with him.

After adding the extra makeup needed for the camera, Jessica climbed out of the van and strode over to the front of the building, leaving Marty to haul over the camera and microphone. She looked at several different angles of the entrance before choosing to stand just to the left of the Dare County Medical Examiner sign. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw Marty taking his sweet time walking toward her. “Hurry up, will you? I want to make sure we get this right.”

Marty muttered “bitch” under his breath and refused to walk any faster. He hated working with Jessica and was sure the feeling was mutual, but for some unknown reason she insisted that he be her cameraman. He’d tried to get rid of her by going to his boss to complain. His supervisor response was he couldn’t do anything about it, but if Marty despised her so much, why not do a shitty job with her newscasts until she demanded to work with someone else? Marty had thought about it, but in the end decided not to mar his reputation and talent just to be free of the reporter from fucking hell. Maybe she’d get that anchor job he knew she was salivating over, and he’d be free of her once and for all. For now, though, he’d suck it up.

“Stand over there; I want this angle.” Jessica pointed to where she wanted him to set up. He handed her the microphone with CH4 in large print on the side of it. One thing he had to admit about her, although she was a bitch with a capital B, she was a damn good reporter and knew how to pick out the right places to film. He had already received two awards for excellence in filming thanks to her.

Hoisting the camera to his shoulder, he made a few final adjustments then gave Jessica the signal to start whenever she was ready. She straightened her back and shoulders, put her “serious reporter” face on, and held the microphone just below her chin. “This is Jessica Daly for the evening news, reporting to you from the Dare County Medical Examiner’s Office with a Channel Four exclusive.

“Investigations into the strangling deaths of three county women continue. At this time, local law enforcement have very few leads. Sources inside the Dare County Sheriff’s Department report . . .”