Jax swallowed a frustrated sigh. His brother could be a pain in the ass, but he was also making a good point. The second Hutton sensed his alibi had fallen apart he would have the full power of the district attorney’s office behind him. Any investigation would come to a screeching halt.
“I’ll think about it,” he hedged, not prepared to give Ash any promises. Then, he deliberately changed the conversation. “Now answer my question.”
Ash pretended to be puzzled. “What question?”
“What did you do last night?” He stabbed a finger toward his aggravating sibling. “And don’t pretend you don’t know what I mean.”
Ash chuckled, then his smile slowly faded. As if the memories from the previous night were creeping back into his thoughts. “I made a brief visit to speak with Doug,” he admitted.
“Shit. I knew it.” Jax clenched his hands into tight fists. He’d debated about passing along the information he’d discovered. He’d wanted them to know that Doug Gates had a history of violence, but Ash was always overprotective when it came to Remi. Right now, he was in extreme vigilante mode. Any hint of a threat to his onetime fiancée was bound to send him over the edge. “Is he pressing charges?”
“Not unless he wants to explain the telescope he was using to spy on Remi,” Ash growled.
Doug Gates was spying on Remi? Jax carefully planted his palms flat on his desk. It was his way of ensuring he didn’t grab for his gun.
“Bastard,” he breathed. “Do I need to get an arrest warrant?”
Ash shook his head, his expression grim. “I’ve taken care of it for now.”
Uh-oh. “Is he dead?” Jax demanded.
“No, but he will be if I catch him anywhere around Remi,” Ash said without hesitation.
Jax quashed his instinct to have the perv hauled to the station. As much as he wanted to beat the crap out of Doug Gates, Ash could handle the creepy neighbor. It was Jax’s duty to find the Butcher. “Do you think he’s a suspect?”
“Not really.” Ash gave a shake of his head, frustration clearly etched on his face. “But I can’t rule him out either.”
“Then we keep him on the list of suspects and continue searching for evidence.”
“While Remi stays in danger.”
“She has a lot of people looking out for her,” Jax reminded his brother, knowing the words were empty. Nothing would comfort Ash. Not until the Butcher was behind bars. Or dead.
Ash paused, visibly struggling to regain command of his temper. “Have you found anything in the old files?” he at last asked.
Jax grimaced. “I’m not sure.”
“That’s less than helpful,” Ash said in dry tones.
Jax reached to angle the computer screen on his desk. “Grab a seat. I have something I want to show you.”
“Okay.” Ash found an extra chair pushed against the nearby wall and placed it next to Jax. “What’s going on?”
Jax tapped on the keyboard. “I couldn’t find any cases that fit the MO of the Butcher.”
Ash muttered a curse under his breath. “But?”
“But I used one of our new search programs.” Jax brought up the files he’d found. “They can comb through thousands of files for patterns. First, I looked for anyone who’d been killed by having their throats cut, both male and female. Then I expanded the search to other cities. I couldn’t find anything. Finally I put in the physical characteristics of the Butcher’s prime targets and searched for any deaths in the past five years. I got a few hits.”
Ash leaned forward. “Show me.”
“The first victim I found is Carla Tester.” Jax enlarged the picture of the pretty, dark-haired woman with a plump face and bright smile. “Twenty-four years old. She worked for the Chicago Transit Authority and died four years ago.” Jax brought up the next photo. Once again, the female was dark-haired with pretty features. This one had green eyes and a few freckles sprinkled over her pale skin. “Beth Sampson. Eighteen. She was in her freshman year of college. She died three years ago.” Jax pulled up the last picture. The female was older than the others, but she had dark hair and greenish-blue eyes. “Ariel Midland. She was twenty-seven and a hairdresser. She died last year.”
Ash sent him a furious glare. “Why didn’t anyone tag them with the Butcher killings?”
That had been Jax’s first question. The women fit the profile. At least when it came to the physical description of the Butcher’s victims.
Then he’d studied the complete records and understood why any connection to the Butcher had been missed.
“Each of the women burned to death in a house fire,” he said. “There was no reason to think there was foul play in any of their deaths.”
“Three separate house fires?” Ash snorted. “And that didn’t raise any questions?”
“They were all at least a year apart,” Jax reminded him.
“None of the victims had their throats slit?”
“The bodies were all badly burned and I don’t think they did more than a superficial exam. It was assumed they were tragic accidents, not victims of a serial killer.”
“Damn.” Ash sat back, obviously trying to process the new information. “I don’t suppose you can get the bodies exhumed? If we could discover the exact cause of death, and if they had the telltale mark on their breast, we could be certain they were the work of the Butcher.”
Jax made a sound of disgust. His brother had obviously been gone from the department too long.
“Are you kidding? I’d need a lot more than a hunch to get the money or a warrant to have the bodies dug up.”
“Are you going to investigate them?”
“Yes.” Jax held up a hand as Ash’s lips parted, no doubt intending to remind him that Remi’s life was in danger. “I promise.”
Ash sent him a rueful smile. “Thanks. Was there anything else?”
“No.” About to send Ash back to Remi, Jax abruptly recalled the reason he was at the office before any reasonable person should be up on a Sunday morning. “Wait.” He reached for the folder he’d shoved toward the back of his desk. “This file was found taped under a drawer in Gage’s desk after his death.”
“Taped?” Ash frowned in confusion, and Jax felt a stab of disappointment. He’d hoped his brother might have some idea why Gage had it hidden, and what the strange markings might mean.
Ash reached to grab the file. “What is it?”
“Hell if I know.”
The younger man spread out the papers, his frown deepening as he glanced over the scribbled notes. “It looks like it’s written in gibberish.”
“None of his other files match this?” Jax pressed.
“No.” Ash reached for a map of Chicago that had been photocopied. He pointed toward one of the red circles that had presumably been placed there by Gage. “Those mark where the bodies were found,” he said, his fingers moving to the numbers written next to the circle. “And the dates.”
Jax had managed to work out that much. He reached for the map and turned it over to reveal the numbers that were penciled on the back. “This is a list of dates as well.” He grabbed a second sheet of paper where he’d made his own notes. He touched the first column of numbers. “Some match the nights of the murders.” He moved his finger toward the second column. “But not all of them.”