Jo turned to Kalo. “Can we give an answer on this, Kalo?”
“Yeah.” Kalo glanced up from his screen. “All through winter.”
Jo glanced at Carter. “Carter has a theory.”
“Ink seems to be a link.” Carter stared at the screen. “From what we’re seeing they all had tattoos, they’re all women around the same age, similar in build and hair color.” He shrugged. “What gets me is he’s doing this in winter. How is he choosing his victims? Most people are covered up.”
“That’s something we’ll have to discover.” Jenna glanced at Kane. “Kane has some questions.”
“Hi, Jo.” Kane’s gaze was serious. “From what we’re seeing here, this guy is using these women as his art. I gather from the name given to him by the media, we’re not alone in this assumption. We haven’t found a cause of death, so am I right to assume he’s getting no pleasure out of killing these women?”
Jo pursed her lips thinking. “Oh, he gets pleasure out of killing them or he wouldn’t be doing it.” She waited a beat to gather her thoughts. “The type and the ink are representations of someone he wants to kill repeatedly, someone who caused him grief, maybe as a child. From what I’ve seen from his previous kills, at first he wanted to humiliate them. That phase changed.”
“Why? It’s unusual for this class of psychopath to change his MO mid-stream.” Kane raised an eyebrow. “Unless we’re dealing with another multiple personality.”
“Not necessarily, because the last ten or so have been similar.” Jo shrugged. “Maybe he found humiliating them didn’t satisfy him, he needed to do more, hurt them more. I believe he uses the art excuse to validate his need to keep killing. He regards the women as the necessary pieces he requires to make his sculpture. Once he has decided how to use them, they’re no longer people.”
“That’s disturbing.” Jenna’s eyes narrowed. “How many have been identified? How many were reported missing?”
“Kato, run the numbers, please.” Jo smiled at Jenna across the miles. “It’s real useful having a Black Hat, or should I say IT specialist, working in the office. He saves us hours of grunt work.”
“There’s been four out of twenty bodies identified. Six reported missing.” Kalo lifted his gaze from his screen. “The identification came from dental records and DNA.”
“Okay, thanks.” Jenna cleared her throat. “Carter, that’s a ton of Jane Does. I’ll go through the autopsy reports because I’m wondering if these women were prostitutes or the homeless?”
“Yeah, that’s an angle to chase down.” Carter removed the toothpick and flicked it into the trash. “Although you don’t have streetwalkers in town, do you? I’d start with the homeless—who has access to them?”
“We have shelters, the soup kitchen, churches, and the like.” Jenna glanced at Kane and then back to the screen. “We have had an influx of homeless people this year but the snow usually keeps them away. It is a good place to start.”
“Kane.” Jo frowned. “If this is the same killer, he’s delusional and lives in his own world. I’ll go through the files some more but I’m thinking Caucasian, mid-thirties, unmarried who has a profession that allows him to move easily from place to place.”
“Hmm. We’ll have to narrow it down some more.” Kane leaned back in his chair. “Around these parts, that description fits many men. Truck or delivery drivers, doctors, dentists, casual labor to name a few. My money is on a trucker or delivery driver, he maybe gives a girl a ride into town, gets all her information and kills her.”
“It could be all of the above.” Jenna shrugged. “As no one seems to have logged any evidence against the killer, has anyone found where he kept the bodies?”
“Nope, we assumed he used a hunting cabin, easily accessible in the snow, so not far from a main highway, and one that’s cleared regular.” Carter paused a beat and then frowned. “So in your case, just about anywhere along the entire length of Stanton Forest.”
“Okay, we have a starting point.” Jenna made a few notes on a notepad. “I need to find out if any of the victims have been sexually assaulted.” She lifted her gaze to the screen. “I consider it relevant to the case. Rape and murder are often part of the ritual, but I’m not seeing that here in the few cases I’ve scanned. I don’t have an autopsy report on our victim, so can’t rule it out. I’ll need to investigate this aspect; with the humiliation and dismembering, if he’s not raping them, he has a motive we have not come across before.”
Jo nodded. “I’ll ask Kalo to do the research to save time.”
“Thanks, Jo.” Jenna smiled at her and then turned to Kane. “Do you have any other questions for Jo?”
“Nope, but if it comes back none of the women were sexually assaulted, it’s always a possibility the killer is impotent. If so, it puts a different slant on the revenge, doesn’t it?” Kane turned to Jenna and frowned. “This type he’s killing, is the same every time—why?”
“Revenge?” Jenna stared into the screen. “They were close at one time and she humiliated him. He likely killed her and has been killing her ever since.”
Jo wanted to give Jenna a high five. “It would be a strong motive and that’s further than anyone else has gotten on The Sculptor’s case.”
“Hmm…” Jenna shrugged. “Now we just have to find him before he kills again. Not easy in the middle of winter with not one clue to go on.”
Fifteen
After four hours bumping along in the cab of an eighteen-wheeler with a man who smelled as if he’d missed out on the invention of deodorant, Zoe Henderson was glad when the truck stopped at a place lit up with flashing red lights that read, “Triple Z Bar”. She turned to the driver. “Why are we stopping here?”
“I get a bed and a meal here. We’re in Black Rock Falls. The town is in that direction but this place is cheap.” He wouldn’t meet her eyes. “You can join me if you like and I’ll give you a ride into town first thing?”
The thought of a hot meal was tempting and she would find another ride before bedtime. “Yeah, sure.” She grabbed her backpack and climbed down from the cab.
The icy chill seeped through her clothes and although the ground had a generous coating of salt and sand, ice glistened on the blacktop reflecting the bright lights in patches of flashing crimson. As she picked her way through the parking lot to the bar, she noticed the line of motorcycles outside. She’d fit in here just fine. Wearing a leather jacket, she looked like a biker’s old lady and her ink and black fingernails alone would get her a ride into town. The last shelter had turned her away and pointed her in the direction of Black Rock Falls insisting they offered shelter for the homeless. Apparently, the town had long-term accommodation available and assistance to get a job. The bonus was a soup kitchen and a free clinic. She’d landed in paradise.
The dimly lit bar was hot and noisy. The smell of beer, sweat, and chili crawled up her nose as she followed the truck driver to a table. She glanced around—her entrance had gained the attention of a few members of the motorcycle club who’d pushed tables together and sat in a large group. Giving them her brightest smile, she dropped her backpack on the floor, peeled off her leather jacket, and rolled up her sleeves to display her tattoos. Sitting down, she stared at the sticky rings left behind from the last customer’s drinks alongside a pile of dirty dishes. She looked at the driver. She hadn’t asked his name, she didn’t care, he served a purpose. “How do you order a meal here?”