Karen Rose - Have You Seen Her?

"That's how many times he stabbed the Seattle girls," Davies said. "We thought it was because he was fifteen years old before. He's a creature of habit."

"I'll buy the creature part," Kent muttered. "There was an important difference versus Lorraine. Samantha was not killed in the clearing. She was killed somewhere else and transported." He paused and stared at his notes. He swallowed hard, and Steven remembered this was Kent's first sexual homicide. "Samantha was sexually assaulted. No semen found. Multiple recent needle punctures on her inner arms. ME's testing for ketamine, but won't have results till later today."

"I have dews on the ketamine," Harry said, pulling an envelope from his pocket. "I found this in my box this morning. It's from one of the veterinary supply houses I'd inquired on ketamine sales. They've invoiced more than a hundred vets and farmers within a fifty-bile radius of the city in the last three months. They took a while to get back to me because they found an issue with one of their customers." He tossed the letter across the table to Steven. "George Richards ordered a twelve-vial box last August. He ordered adother twelve-vial box last week." Harry sniffled. "His dame came up when the supply house did an audit of unpaid invoices. Mr. Richards hadn't paid the August invoice, but because his account was in good standing they went ahead and filled the new order and enclosed a friendly reminder. Two days ago, they get an angry phone call."

"From?" Steven asked.

"From," Harry said, "an indignant Mrs. Richards. Her husband passed away six months ago."

"Interesting." Steven picked up the letter and scanned it. "Where was the ketamine delivered?"

"To the Richards's farmhouse. Mrs. Richards insisted she dever saw it."

"Pay her a visit today," Steven said thoughtfully. "Find out who knew her husband had an account with the vet supply company. And, discreetly , find out if her husband knew Rudy Lutz."

"Okay." Harry blew his nose again. "Anything to stay away from pine trees."

"Good work, Harry," Steven said. "Anything else, Kent?"

Kent was staring at the photo of Samantha Eggleston's body. "Just that she was bald, like Lorraine. And she had the same tattoo, just like I thought."

Davies got up and walked to the bulletin board, staring with a frown at the Eggleston photo, identical to the one Kent held. "I've been trying to remember where I've seen that tattoo before."

"You've seen it before?" Steven asked, more than a little annoyed. "Why didn't you say anything when we were looking at the body yesterday?"

"Because I couldn't remember then and I can't remember now," Davies snapped. "He didn't tattoo our girls-that's a new little trick. But I've seen it before. I know I have. Do you have a tracing?"

Nancy pulled a sheet of paper from her folder, holding an enlargement of the symbol. "I've run this through every database I've got," she said. "Nothing."

Davies took the paper with a polite nod. "I'll send this to my old partner. He can pass it around, see if any of the other guys recognize it."

Steven raised his brows. "Discreetly."

Davies scowled. "Got it, Thatcher. I will be the soul of discretion."

"Good. Hit the road, guys, and remember the word of the day. Everybody, all together."

"Discretion," they all mumbled, grumbled, and muttered.

Friday October 7, 1:15 P.M .

Jenna was in the ICU waiting room when the press conference came on. Jumping to her feet, she rushed to stand in front of the murmuring television and strained to hear what Steven had to say.

He looked strong. Confident. And very tired.

"We must confirm reports of a third missing girl," he said when the media had become quiet. "We're withholding the name of the victim. All I can say is she is a sixteen-year-old female."

"Have all the girls been cheerleaders?" a reporter asked.

"Yes," Steven replied. "But all young women must be cautious. The danger is very real."

Jenna's stomach rolled over. Those poor girls. Poor Steven, having to watch it all happen.

"Do you have any suspects?" another reporter shouted.

"The investigation is ongoing," Steven replied. "I will say one thing. This vile perpetrator believes he is smart. I believe he's becoming a little too smug. He'll make a mistake and we'll catch him." He looked into the camera. "We will catch him." He turned back to the media. "That's all."

Needing to do something, Jenna went to Casey's room where Ned sat, staring at Casey's pale face. "Go get something to eat, Ned. I'll stay with her for a little while."

Ned shook his head. "I'm not hungry. But I could sure use the company."

So Jenna sat in the chair beside him and together they guarded Casey while Jenna thought about Steven guarding those young girls. And wondered how the world had become so screwed up.

Friday, October 7, 5:30 P.M.

Neil found Thatcher standing at the bulletin board, staring at the pictures of the girls. Grudgingly he admitted the man really cared. "I thought you'd be home by now," Neil said.

"I'll leave soon. I was just wondering if our boy has seen the press conference yet."

"And what he'll do when he does?" Neil asked.

Thatcher nodded. "Yeah. I want to push him, but I don't want another 'after' photo."

There wasn't a whole lot to say to that, so Neil left it alone. "Have you arranged for protection for Jenna?" he asked and watched Thatcher's spine go rigid.

"No need to tonight," he said. "She's staying at the hospital with Casey."

"I know, but what about tomorrow night? Assuming Rudy is Parker, Jenna could be in danger."

I know ? Steven turned, eyes narrowed and pulse hammering. "I've thought of that," he said tightly. "What I want to know is how you know she's staying with Casey tonight."

Davies didn't look away. Smug bastard. "I dropped by the hospital today, just to see how her friend was doing." He lifted a brow. "Professional courtesy."

Steven gritted his teeth. Professional courtesy. Over his dead body. "Did you now?"

Davies nodded. "I did. I was concerned about how she was holding up."

Sonofabitch. Steven recognized the gleam in Davies's eye. He saw it every time he looked in the mirror. "So you're not only the soul of discretion but the soul of beneficence as well?"

Quick on the draw, Davies's jaw tightened. "I guess that was an intended slam on my parentage."

Steven shrugged. "Take it how you want. Just don't be paying Jenna any more visits."

Davies's eyes narrowed and it occurred to Steven that they stood poised for battle like those mountain goats who butted heads over pack leader rights. "Is that a command?" Davies said softly.

"Take it how you want. Just leave her alone."

"What about tomorrow night? How will you keep her safe?" Davies persisted and Steven thrust his fisted hands in his pockets.

"Don't trouble yourself about Jenna, Detective."' Steven murmured, very quietly. "I'll make sure she stays safe with-out telling her about Rudy Lutz, so at the same time I can en-sure the evidence I gather in this case isn't tainted in any way by a premature tipping of our hand."

Davies's dark eyes flickered in controlled rage, then heturned on his heel and left.

Friday, October 7, 6:10 P.M.

He switched off the television set with a snarl. He'd spent pre cious minutes away from pretty Alev in the barn this afternoon to come home and watch the press conference on television. He d returned, just now, to watch the six o'clock news to see if that diot Thatcher had anything new. Instead, he'd seen that idiot Thatcher try to make himself look smart. He'd known the police would posture, would try to stir him up, to make him angry, but the words still stung.