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After polishing off the cobbler, each pleased that she had made enough to feed eight large men, they relocated down to the command center.

“Glad to see you changed your mind about the lovely Ms. Bridwell,” Blaise commented, patting Jack on the shoulder.

“Gotta say, I’m nervous as hell, but…well…I’m glad too,” he responded with a nod to his men.

Settling around the table with their tablets once again in front of them and Luke at the controls for the information presented on the screen, they began their reports.

Bart stated, “Cam and I checked on the autopsy reports and interviewed the people who found the last three girls. Got some details on the cuts on the bodies.”

Luke flashed the gruesome photographs on the screen, as Bart continued. “No one’s made any identifications with the lacerations. They appear to be random slicing of skin, in no particular order and no obvious message. But when we interviewed the first doctor who did the autopsy on Sheila Carlson, he mentioned he had been standing at her side while his assistant was at her head looking down on the body and in toward her feet. He said the assistant made the comment that it almost looked like arrows in the direction of her genitals toward her throat.”

Cam continued, “The doc said that they’d already taken pictures, so he wasn’t all that interested in his assistant’s comments, but it was something that stuck in his mind. Later he looked at the photographs, but he didn’t get that feeling at all. He mentioned it to the FBI who also have not seen anything obvious in the cuts.”

Monty said, “Even though the FBI haven’t latched onto that, I brought it to the attention of Shirley. She said it could be significant. We know the victims were alive when first tortured and were raped. If the killer obsesses over the genitals first, then makes his way up the body, with a throat slash last to actually kill, that would support a killer who’s driven by sex.”

“I thought most killers motivated by sex would go for hookers or hitchhikers or something like that,” Blaise commented.

“Not necessarily. Some do go for prostitutes,” Marc answered, “but they can also spend time scoping out their victims.”

“So, the ones who go for prostitutes may just be prowling around looking for an easy victim. This guy seems to be stalking his victims first,” Chad added .

“Right, so who’s got the time and access to move around like this? Granted his field of operation is narrowing, but this takes some organization,” Jack surmised.

“Salesmen, anyone who travels for business.”

“College recruiters,” Cam added quickly. “They travel around to high schools and work on college campuses.”

Luke began to put in more information, saying, “That’s good. Keep going.”

“Yeah, but college recruiters only work for one college, and they’re limited by geographical caseloads,” Chad remarked.

“Keep brainstorming,” Jack ordered. “We can eliminate later.”

The group continued to throw out ideas as the meeting went on. They added truck drivers, pilots, athletes, sportsmen, retail buyers, photographers, consultants, and the list kept going.

“This is never-ending,” Bart growled.

Jack’s emergency number lit up and he took the call. The others watched carefully as his face grew hard. “Right. We’ll be there.”

Looking over his group, he reported, “A decomposed body has been found in the woods about a mile from Washington College. Preliminary says it could be Nola Talbot.”

“Who do you want on it, boss?” Marc asked.

“I’m going,” Jack replied. “Monty, you coordinate with the FBI on this and I’ll take Chad and Blaise. ”

“Boss,” Cam said softly. “Let one of us take the lead. You’ve got a date tomorrow night.”

Jack shook his head, a flash of regret in his eyes, before he growled, “No. I’ve got this. I need you, Bart, and Marc to get to the other medical examiners and interview them personally. I want to know if anyone else had impressions about the cuts. None of the other girls’ cuts seemed to be in a pattern but find out if the sex to throat kill was something anyone else thought. Luke?”

“I know, boss. I’m working it.”

The group dispersed, each moving out to take care of business until they were ready to travel. Jack watched them leave and then made his way to the kitchen where he washed the cobbler dish. Sighing heavily, he made his call.

That evening as he, Chad, and Blaise drove out, his thoughts were on the beautiful blonde. She had assured him that she understood and to call her when he got back into town. She even promised she would dress up for the occasion and get out of her jeans. He joked that he would not mind her being out of her jeans. Laughing, they hung up, but his heart was heavy.

As the night road passed them by, he forced his thoughts to the task tomorrow. Dealing with the decomposed body of another young woman.

He watched her leave the library again. The last time, she had gone straight to the dorm, but tonight she met with a small group, and they were walking in the opposite direction. Where are you going, my pretty? Following at a distance, his lip curled in disgust as they entered a bar. Adjusting his mustache, he paid the cover fee and walked into the dimly lit atmosphere. It was crowded and the loud, live music irritated him. To add to his agitation, he lost her in the crowd. Seeing stairs to the side, he made his way up and found an opening at the rail looking down. Yes, there you are. Her hands were raised above her head, her hips grinding to the beat of the music. And that man, his dick pressed into your ass. I knew it. You all turn into sluts at some time. He slid his hand discreetly down to his crotch, pressing his palm against his cock until it hurt. You’re making me hurt, you little bitch. He smiled slowly, continuing to massage himself to erection. But your time’s coming. Then I’ll make you hurt.

Jack, Chad, and Blaise watched as the medical examiner began his work on the body. There was little left after animals had devoured and dragged off several bones. Her right skeletal arm was intact, and it was obvious—her right index finger was missing.

With little flesh left on the body, the medical examiner was unable to discern weapon of death, but the missing finger tied this into the same pattern as their killer. Jack, as the doctor was comparing the dental records to the teeth, stared at the remains. No family. No parents to check with. Foster placement in high school. Rage at a lone young woman whom life had already abandoned, in college trying to make something of herself only to end up on a slab in a medical examiner’s office— Fuck!

“She’s Nola Talbot. Positive identification based on dental records,” the examiner stated definitively.

Nodding to his men, Jack turned to walk outside. At the door, he turned back around, staring at the remains one last time. Lifting his eyes to the examiner, he said, “When you’re all done with her, contact me. I’ll pay for her burial.”

If the doctor was surprised, he did not show it. He had paid for a few burials himself over the years. He just nodded and turned back to his duties.

Chad and Blaise shared a look, unsurprised as well.

Back in the SUV driving home, the three were silent for the first part of the trip, each lost in their own thoughts.

“Call the others. We meet when we get in,” Jack ordered and both men immediately began texting.

Blaise added, “Boss, if you wanted to take an evening off to go ou?—”

“Nope. Meeting.”

The two men nodded, knowing their boss’ mind was not going to change about the evening. They just hoped that it would not change about Bethany.

The men had just met back at Jack’s and had begun to process the new information when Monty called .

“Hate to dump this on you, but there’s been another one.”

Jack had him on speaker and growled, “Damn, go ahead.”

“Just got a call from my FBI contact who hasn’t even called the Governor yet. Virginia University in Charlestown. Same MO. I’m heading there now. Figured you’d want to be there as well.”

“Yep,” Jack answered. Looking around, he said, “Luke, what do you want to do on this one?”

“Same as always. You interview and feed me info. I’ve got an angle I’ve been looking at, but I’ll take whatever data you can send to me.”

“Chad, Blaise. You two just drove through the night. You up for more?”

“Absolutely,” both replied at the same time.

“All right, Monty. The six of us will roll out of here. We should be there in about thirty minutes. We’ll rendezvous and you can get us inside where the FBI is investigating. I want all of you on this and use whatever means you need. We’ve got to stop this fucker.”

Once more, the men left Jack’s place to prepare to hit the road. He stood by his kitchen counter looking down at the empty, washed cobbler dish and his mind turned to the beautiful blonde with the heart of gold. How the hell can I give you what you need when I can’t be home during regular hours? And how the hell can I keep my world from tainting yours? Locking up and leaving his house, he felt more desolate than he ever had going on a mission.

He was beginning to see the handwriting on the wall telling him there was no way a white picket fence would fit in his life. And Bethany deserved nothing less.

The men effectively spread out, each knowing what needed to be done. Cam, Blaise, and Bart went to interview the girl’s roommates, classmates, and friends to gather as much information as they could. Hacking into student records, Marc delved into her classes, grades, loans, and accounts. Luke was back at the compound digging into her Facebook and social media. Monty was with the FBI at the scene where the body was found.

And once again, Jack was in the medical examiner’s room, this time staring at the mutilated body of Karen Solter. Blonde, blue eyes, medium build. Fuck. Looks too fuckin’ much like—Stop…don’t go there.

Forcing his mind to the task at hand, he discreetly moved from the side to the head of the victim, looking down at her body. While the cameras had taken pictures from multiple angles, he was stunned to see what the other medical examiner’s assistant had said. At this angle, it did appear as though the random mess of cuts did point like arrows from the girl’s pubic region toward the throat slice. Doesn’t give us much but could confirm the sexual motivation of the actual killings.

Moving back around to the side and out of the way, he admired the professionalism of the medical examiner, who combined clinical precision with a profound respect for the murdered girl.

“Weapon of death?” he quietly asked as the doctor took meticulous measurements of the length and depth of the wounds.

“Very long, thin blade. These lacerations are almost surgical in exactitude.”

“You think a scalpel?” he prodded.

“No, no. A scalpel wouldn’t be long enough.”

The examiner walked over to a computer and quickly began searching. “Here,” he said. “I would have to take more measurements, but something like this.”

Jack walked over and stared at a long, filet knife. The one on the screen called it a fishing filet knife. Fishing? His thoughts raced to the fishermen he ejected from Bethany’s place days earlier. Once again, forcing her from his mind, he asked, “This would be a common knife, wouldn’t it?”

The doctor gave a derisive snort, “Oh yeah. Got two of them at home myself. Take the grandson fishing when he comes to visit. Hell, in Virginia, with our beaches, rivers, and lakes, you’d find one of these in over half the homes here.”

Nodding, Jack left soon after, meeting some of the men in their hotel room. Marc reported what was becoming a familiar tune as they were finally starting to connect some dots in the backgrounds of the victims.

“She was a solid student, not brilliant, but studied a lot and studied hard. Her professors have mostly been here a while and I’ve already checked with Luke, none of them had been at any of the other colleges when one of the girls went missing.”

Cam, Blaise, and Bart had preliminary reports and would continue interviewing the next day .

“She was considered a good girl,” Cam said. “No partying, no boyfriends, no booze.”

“Her roommates appeared genuinely upset. Liked her and said she had no enemies. Usually kept to herself and studied in the library most evenings. They had recently met with some friends, and they were surprised when she had come along to a bar for dancing. That was unusual for her, but they were thrilled she came with them,” Blaise reported, looking down at his notes.

Bart took over from there. “I checked out the bar they went to. Live music and a friend of theirs was playing so that appeared to be the reason she went. They said she had a great time dancing. She didn’t drink so no one could have spiked it. There was a guy she was dancing with for a long time, but he left earlier than her group did, and he left alone. He has an alibi; he met up with his girlfriend later.”

“Now there was one piece of information I followed up on, but it led to a dead-end. The roommates said the bar was crowded and they lost track of each other, but one said she looked up at one time and saw Karen standing on the stairs leading to the loft chatting with a man there. Later, when she looked up, neither Karen nor the man was there.”

“She leave with him?” Jack asked.

“Roommates say no way. She was not about to pick up a guy in a bar; it just wasn’t her.”

“Cameras in the bar?”

“Only in the bar area so the owner can keep track of his bartenders’ handling of money. ”

“Get it,” Jack growled. “Send it to Luke.”

Bart nodded and immediately headed out into the night. An hour later he was back, a grin on his face. “Easiest bar to break into I’ve ever done.” Seeing Jack’s face, he added, “Already sent to Luke.”

Finishing their meeting for the night, they planned the next couple of days. And Jack knew they were going to be long ones.

He taped the latest pictures up on his wall, adding them to his collection. “I told you that you should have stayed a good girl. But no, you had to become a slut. So now, you join the others.” Standing back admiring his wallpaper, his eyes roamed over the macabre collage.

His fingers trailed along the wall, touching the photographs almost lovingly. Reverently. The memories of each one flooded his mind. He was at peace. The urge had been assuaged, leaving only satisfaction in its wake.

His cell phone vibrated, and he grimaced at the interruption. Pulling it out, he read the text, sighing.

Collecting his things, he readied himself to go back home. Using a large bucket filled with water and bleach, he quickly wiped down the tabletop and splashed the remaining liquid on the floor. With an old broom, he gave a few sweeps to send the bloody water out of the door.

He never spent too much time on cleaning the room…it was just a place to make the sluts pay. But the knife was different. Carefully washing, bleaching, and th en drying the instrument, he tucked it back into his case.

With a last glance around, he stepped out into the night air and locked the door behind him. He smiled, humming a tune as he drove away.