“You didn’t kill them, Jenna.” Kane rubbed her arms but his eyes held a sorrow she hadn’t seen before. “You nearly died a few days ago and you’ve been going hell for leather since without a break. Most people would take days to recover from an overdose and you went back to work the next day. I’m not surprised you’re stressed.”
“I wasn’t in a coma.” Jenna didn’t want an excuse. “Kim was a nurse and she just kept me under. I figure she planned to let me freeze to death. Wolfe used two doses of Naloxone and I was fully alert before I left the cabin.”
“You had no pulse.” Kane looked distraught. “I thought you’d died. Thank God Wolfe was there. I made a mistake, Jenna, that could’ve cost you your life.”
Unable to understand the emotion moving through him, she swallowed hard. “What mistake?”
“When that guy was leaning over you, I just picked him up and threw him at the wall. I felt for a pulse in your neck and found nothing, not even a flicker. You were cold and limp. I wanted to kill the man who’d hurt you but before I could do anything, Wolfe ripped open your coat and listened to your chest. Only then, he gave you the Naloxone.” A nerve in Kane’s cheek twitched. “My fingers were numb from the cold. I missed your pulse and should have administered the spray. You nearly died because of me.”
“It wasn’t your fault. You didn’t drug me. I—”
There was a whoosh as a door slid open.
“When you two have finished gazing into each other’s eyes, I have an autopsy to perform.” Wolfe looked from one to the other with his eyebrows raised in question. “It’s getting late and if you’re planning on following the snowplow home we’d better get started.”
Jenna followed Wolfe into the room, pulling on her mask as she went. She nodded to Emily and Colt before stopping at the undraped body of Zoe Henderson. She pushed all doubts from her mind. She’d find her killer if it was the last thing she’d do. “Okay, what can you tell me about Zoe Henderson?” She waited patiently for Wolfe to start the recorder.
“Caucasian female, five-five, of average weight for her age, and in good physical condition.” He glanced at her over his mask. “She has pierced ears and tattoos all of which have been photographed and catalogued. All internal organs are normal weight and size, she ate a meal of eggs, toast, and coffee approximately two hours before death. I found traces of Rohypnol the date-rape drug in her system. I tested specifically for this drug as it was found in the other victims but have completed a full tox screen.” He indicated to the X-rays on a screen. “From the X-rays no head trauma is evident but there is damage to the hyoid bone and bruising consistent to strangulation from the front. Thumb prints are evident over the larynx and there is a stretching of the tendons in the region to suggest the killer lifted the victim off her feet during the attack. I found slight bruising on the forearms consistent with defense wounds. I would suggest Miss Henderson fought back, although I found nothing under her nails.”
The idea her killer might be injured would eliminate both her suspects. “So what are we looking for here? How much damage did she inflict?”
“She wouldn’t have been able to make many hits. Let me demonstrate.” Kane turned to Jenna and grabbed her shirtfront. “If I keep my elbows out, it would be hard to get a punch in especially if you can’t breathe and your feet are off the floor.” He glanced at Wolfe. “Do you agree?”
“Yeah.” Wolfe indicated to the bruising on the neck. “The killer has above-average-sized hands and exerted pressure on both carotid arteries. It only takes eleven pounds of pressure for ten seconds to render a person unconscious, so she wouldn’t have had time to fight for long.” He sighed. “He would have needed to hold the grip for four to five minutes to assure brain death. This type of strangulation is very personal, most who use it don’t realize that unless the pressure is continued a person will revive in ten seconds. Most killers prefer to use a cord and from behind so they can perhaps use a knee in the back to increase the pressure and completely close off the trachea but, whatever method, brain death would still occur in the same time.”
Jenna looked with compassion at Zoe’s staring eyes and gruesome twisted smile. “Will you be able to remove the glue before her parents see her?”
“No need.” Wolfe shook his head.
“They’re not coming.” Emily’s eyes flashed. “Pigs. They don’t even want to ship her body home. They just sent a check to cover the funeral expenses.”
A wave of sadness flowed over Jenna. “I’ll make the arrangements.” She gathered herself and looked at Wolfe. “Any signs of sexual assault?”
“No, and no recent activity.” Wolfe looked at Jenna. “My conclusions are Zoe Henderson died of cardiac arrest due to asphyxiation. She was murdered approximately last Saturday, posed, and frozen within half an hour of her death. This murder is different from the others. No mutilation or severing of limbs. I think he was in a hurry and wanted her out there on Monday morning for all to see. He wanted the press involved.”
“He’s craving attention and getting clumsy.” Kane glanced at Jenna. “The media played down the murder, so if he follows the pattern of behavior Jo suggested, he’s going to go all out next time.”
Who would be next? Would it be someone from her town, a friend or neighbor’s child? Jenna couldn’t stand the thought and shook her head in dismay. “We have to stop him, Kane. We have to stop him now!”
Fifty
Wednesday, Week 2
After eating breakfast sitting on her bed, Ava listened intently to the roar of a truck engine returning to the ranch house. Preacher hadn’t been gone for long this time, maybe an hour or so. She had no clock in her room, which made life difficult. Often, he fed her and went out for hours at a time. She never knew when he would return. At first, she’d searched for a way out of her room but there was no escape, Preacher had her room locked up tight. She’d screamed out for Isabella but heard nothing. Heck, she didn’t even know if she was still alive. Preacher never mentioned her at all. The time alone was driving her crazy, no books, nothing to read, nothing to do so she’d spent the time exercising. If she built up her stamina, she’d have a better chance against him—if she ever escaped.
Trembling with fear as the key turned in the lock, she moved away from the bed and tried to compose herself. Preacher was a man of many moods and the slightest thing could set him off. Images of Zoe’s dangling arm as he placed her in the meat locker played in her mind in a loop. To stay alive, Preacher would have to see her as a person and so far, she’d achieved one small step in the right direction. He was at least using her name now. The more she could gain his confidence, the more chance she had of escaping.
As the door swung open, he stood some ways back, holding a gun on her, his black eyes cold and expressionless. Under his gaze, fear like she’d never experienced before strangled her. If she appeared to be afraid, he would feed on it and want more. It took every ounce of willpower not to cower in his presence. Fixing a smile on her face, she looked at him bundled up in his winter gear with snowflakes melting on his heavy hoodie. The smell of winter drifted in the room and she suddenly craved fresh air. “It’s still snowing, I see.”