Page 49 of Girl Between

“Gators and the bayou could be to blame for that,” Dr. Cruz argued. “Like you said, nature can be a crime scene’s worst nightmare.”

“Your point?” George asked.

“I’m just saying, there’s no telling what she was wearing.” Dr. Cruz shrugged. “Coulda been a white dress and a mask.”

“Okay,” George said, not dismissing her completely. “But if we’re talking about the same killer or killers, why dump a body in the bayou then switch to displaying them in cemeteries? Those are two very different MO’s.”

“Serial killers all start somewhere,” Dana interjected. “The bayoubody could be our unsubs’ early work. Historically, serial killers adapt their earlier work for months before establishing a pattern that becomes their signature. They advance, getting more confident and skilled with each kill, chasing the high, which often makes them take more risks, such as moving from bayou dumps to displaying corpses in public places like popular cemeteries.”

“It’d be easy enough to look for connections,” Dr. Cruz said. “I’ve still got our Jane Doe from the bayou on ice.”

“You should check any other recent homicide victims as well,” Dana suggested.

“I can do that,” Dr. Cruz replied. “Unclaimed or unidentified bodies stay at the morgue for 30 days before being interred in a potter’s field at Resthaven Memorial.”

Dana fought the shiver crawling up her spine. She’d always hated that term. It tarnished her love of pottery.

Potter’s fields were common burial grounds for paupers, unknown, unclaimed, or indigent people. It was a sad, yet necessary, fact of life. Yet somehow, the simple term didn’t seem to convey the true despondency of the situation, though she wasn’t sure any word could.

The many graves she’d spent time at flashed through her mind, including Meredith’s, though Dana hadn’t stuck around long enough to visit. Ignoring the guilt strangling her chest, she pressed on, focusing on the matter at hand. “You should check the other bodies for evidence of TNC. If you find any, we can link them to the two Casquette Girl victims.”

“I’m not sure I want more victims,” George muttered.

“No one does,” Dr. Cruz assured him. “But it makes it easier to start painting a picture of the killer.”

46

George rubbedhis eyes with his thumb and forefinger, worried that the two brilliant doctors were right. He wanted to find the truth, but he feared the new can of worms it might open.

The number of bodies found in Louisiana’s bayous annually was staggering. Going back through the coroner reports for each would require more manpower than the NOPD had. Not to mention the slew of other police work he was shirking by devoting all his energy to this case.

The only thing George had going for him was the fact that the story hadn’t broken yet. Once the news got hold of the fact that two women dressed as Casquette Girls had been murdered in his city, the circus would begin.

Folks already poured into the Crescent City for all manner of supernatural experiences. He didn’t need this case to become another one of them.

“I think we should explore the black market organ angle further,” Dr. Gray said. “In one of the past cases I worked, we used digital forensics to find overlapping patterns in dark web activity to identify potential suspects.”

“That would be great if I had a digital forensics department,”George muttered. “But this isn’t the FBI, Dr. Gray. We’ll have to solve this one with what we have at our disposal.”

“If you find more victims, this case turns serial and you can appeal to the FBI’s behavioral analysis unit,” Dana suggested, but George was already shaking his head.

“The last thing we need is some other agency sweeping in here and mishandling things,” He turned to face Dr. Cruz. “Reexamine the Jane Doe from the bayou, then look back through your reports for any others that came across your table over the past six months and get back to me with your findings.”

Dr. Cruz nodded. “Right away.”

George took a deep breath, trying to calm the anxiety gnawing at him. He knew Lena and Dr. Gray were right, but he couldn't shake the feeling that this case was going to be more complicated than any he had tackled before. The potential connections to the black market organ trade were alarming, and the connection to his most prominent cold case only added to his unease. But this was the job.

47

Dana strodeafter George in the parking lot. Her glasses fogged the moment she stepped into the overwhelming Louisiana heat. Three strides from the air conditioning and she was melting into the pavement.

“George!” Dana called, making him stop. She strode closer, facing him with a tentative expression. “If I overstepped in there …” she began, but George didn’t let her finish.

“You didn’t.” He wiped a hand gruffly over his tired expression, trying to brush away the eerie feeling permeating his skin. “I’m the one who asked for your help. And from the looks of things, we’re going to need it.”

“I know the work will be daunting, but TNCs are extremely rare. From what I’ve seen of Dr. Cruz, she seems perfectly capable of identifying the markers.”

“I’m not worried about Lena,” George said. “I’m worried you might be right about the harvesting.”