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If a business refused? The violence escalated. And franchises? They weren’t the target.
It was the small, independent businesses they went for. The ones tied to the heart of the community. Ethan’s jaw tightened. Was the syndicate moving into the quiet suburbs? Had they decided Ditmas Park was ripe for the taking?
His gaze flicked to the second monitor, where the serial killer case files sprawled across the screen—five cases, hundreds of photographs, interviews, and forensics. Nothing connecting them. Yet.
He leaned forward, fingers flying over the keyboard.
There was no such thing as a perfect murder.
A perfect assassination? Sure.
But a serial killer always makes mistakes.
“God, you’re up early.” Max’s voice cut through the quiet, startling Ethan. “Good work, though.” A loud yawn followed. “Systems?”
“Secure. No activity from the usual suspects.” Ethan’s fingers flew over the keyboard. “I see Kilroy was replaced. Didn’t take long.”
“Nope. His backup, Radar, was ready to step in.”
“I’ve seen him work. He’s good. Who are they giving him as backup?”
“Jewell, for now. Ring and Brando are processing three more operators. Should be ready to take their positions in about three or four weeks.”
Ethan paused, glancing at the screen where Max’s image flickered. The idea of seeing him rather than just hearing his voice was still new.
“Do you want me to back Jewell up?” he asked.
“No. They can handle it. We’ll pick up the slack if they stumble, but they’re capable. We’re here for oversight.”
Ethan nodded. “Yeah.” He turned back to his keyboard, processing the next batch of data.
“Pittsburgh and Manhattan?” Max asked, taking a sip of coffee. The loud sound in Ethan’s earpiece triggered a fresh wave of caffeine envy.
“The murder victim Star found is believed to be part of a serial.”
“Huh.” Max’s cursor appeared on the shared screen as he started working. “Why two locations? Nomad?”
“I don’t think so. Two in Pittsburgh and three in Manhattan.”
“Transient or relocated?”
“My gut says relocation.”
“Then go with your gut,” Max said easily. “Mind if I play?”
“Go for it. I’ve got another scenario playing out, too. The syndicate is moving into Ditmas Park.” Ethan pulled up a separate system.
“Bastards.” Max’s cursor flickered onto the new screen. “Give me a minute to catch up.”
Ethan didn’t respond. He didn’t need to. His focus shifted to the case files, setting his sorting program into motion before launching facial recognition on all crowd photos. Tech teams were getting smarter, but it should already be standard practice—photograph the crowd at every murder and arson scene. The narcissistic need for attention was a weakness they could exploit.
“How’s Mrs. Harvey?” Max asked, scanning video footage at double speed.
“She got clocked pretty hard, and they trashed her deli,” Ethan growled as he typed.
“Fuckers.” Max’s tone mirrored his frustration.
“Agreed. I’ve set up the program to cross-reference cases and list similarities, no matter how obscure.” Ethan switched to the system, tracking two perps he’d trailed through Manhattan.