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Chapter Five

"We can move in here." I pointed along the map pinned to the wall of the conference room. "Set up surveillance in the area around the state park. There is only one easy way in and out. No one is going to be able to carry a body and string it up by waltzing through the woods. Even so, they would need to drive it there."

"So, we go undercover in the woods as hikers or rangers or something," reflected Jenson, his chin pinched between his thumb and forefinger. "It could work."

"It could. It fits the signature and the timeframe. He's targeting parks with these specific indicators. If we get a head of him, even if by a little, we're good," I said, turning to the eager faces staring at me from the table.

Jenson paced behind Wilkinson while Taylor and Roderick looked on. Gordo also shared a space in the room, but he stared at his computer screen as always. Wilkinson's narrowed brows told me he considered my suggestion, but he stayed quiet for the time being.

"If we take it in teams, using all our resources, we could scope out at least three predicted dump spots at a time," offered Harris. "The math works if we get the support."

"It does." I leaned my hands on the tables. "What are your thoughts, Sir?"

"I think that's a lot of manpower for your hunches, Donovan." He stood up, moving closer to the map of the Pacific Northwest. His eyes followed the colorful pins I placed here and there. Beside it, Gordo's digital projection on the giant screen updated in real time as I moved things around. "But it could work," he ended.

"It could," I said, turning to Taylor. "What say ye, my friend?"

"Assuming one of these places is the right location, I think it's worth trying. Each one of us can lead a team, and brief them on Donovan's suggestions," he said.

"All right," Wilkinson conceded. "Jenson, find Brody and brief her on this. I want her updated report presented to the entire team before we head out. She's got a handle on these markers."

"Me, Sir?" Jenson's brow furrowed as he glanced between me and Wilkinson. "What about Donovan?"

"She has other things on her plate," he said, rather stupidly if you asked me because he knew exactly what I had on my plate. "Go find Brody."

"Yes, Sir." Jenson stood from his seat.

"Find Jackson while you're at it. We could use him."

"On it." Jenson jogged out of the conference room as usual, and I drew my attention back to Wilkinson.

He pulled his phone from his pocket and began firing off a few texts. I returned to the map, staring up at it and comparing Gordo's work.

"Gordo. Triangulate the area around the last three bodies found and their positions relative to the specific times and dates. There is a ritualistic nature to these killings," I said, turning around to face him. "While you're at it, get a little new age with your bad self and draw up some astrology charts if you can. Use the vics birthdays since we've identified them all."

"Right-o, Donovan, me mate," he rattled off in a terrible Irish accent.

"What is this?" I gestured at him wildly.

"Me Irish tones fer an Irish lass." He let out a chortle while tapping away at the computer. He never once looked up at me. "'Yer magically delicious.'"

Wilkinson and Taylor laughed at him, despite the stupidity of his statement.

"You know I'm not even Irish, right?" I folded my arms over my chest, and moved to stand over him exceedingly, and uncomfortably close. "Just because my surname is, doesn't mean I am."

"Aw, get over yourself." He clapped me on the elbow and pointed to the screen. "While I work on your dumb charts."

"Taylor, go reserve us some cars. I can't get the fucking app on my phone to work," Wilkinson grumbled.

"There's no car reservation app, Sir." Taylor leaned over to look at his phone. "That's Uber."

Now it was our turn to laugh at him. Gordo pretended to fall out of his chair with the depth of his hysterics. I rolled my eyes and smirked.

"Fuckin' hell with you young bastards." Wilkinson tossed his phone on the table with a clatter.

Nora swept into the room with Jenson on her heels. In her pressed slacks and white blouse tucked into her pants behind her gear belt, she appeared like the assertive FBI agent she always did. Sometimes it struck me, how much her appearance contrasted what I knew of her. Her hair, now inches shorter than the last time I saw her, brushed against her shoulders in whispering sweeps. Her gaze fell on me first and her smile made it to her eyes when she offered me a small wave.

I winked at her and tucked my hands into the back pockets of my jeans.