Page 38 of Unbearable
“I doubt they’re random. We need to see what all the bars have in common. The one I was in the other day had a hallway to the bathrooms and a back door at the end of that hallway. I doubt a woman without some sort of training could subdue any of these men once outside.”
“Okay. Even if she could, someone might notice a struggle. Hence the needle marks Sean found. So you don’t just think the bars are random, that they’re part of the MO?”
“Maybe. They can’t just drug them outside the front door. I bet the victims are lured out a back door to a waiting car. The one door without a camera. Which means they have to do reconnaissance on the bar in advance. We already know they’re killed somewhere other than where they’re dumped.”
Dex sat back in his chair. His eyes were so intently focused on the evidence boards that Dover waited until he was ready to speak again.
“I think it has to be a man and woman team,” he finally continued. “Two of the victims were married, so the chance they were lured away for a same sex encounter isn’t too high. I guessanything is possible though. Except I can’t get past the blonde woman.”
“I’ll add it to the board,” Dover said, standing. She walked to the farthest board and drew a line under their profile of the male suspect. “Female.”
“I’d say close to his age or a little younger. All of the victims are white, so I feel safe saying she is also.”
“What do you think are her motivations?” Dover asked.
“I’m not sure we can even guess. I’d say she’s been groomed most likely. Maybe a submissive character to his dominant? Whatever it is, he gives her something she craves or thinks she does. There is a chance though that she’s as twisted as he is or even the main aggressor.”
They sat in silence again studying the boards, each lost in their own thoughts. She noticed more information had been added to Ian Moore. He had been a young pilot from the Minneapolis area on a layover. When he was found, he had been wearing a St. Christopher’s medal. Everything else was similar to the other victims.
He had strangulation marks made by some kind of a strap or belt. There were no personal effects on the body. The only reason they had identified him so quickly, according to the report, was because he failed to show up for his scheduled flight the next morning. She pulled out her phone and looked up St. Christopher.
“St. Christopher is the patron saint of travelers,” she said.
“So, we have a pilot with the traveler saint, an environmental attorney with the nature saint, a doctor with a saint of the sick, and a banker with the saint of money lenders. They make sense, but what’s the point?”
“I don’t know, but we need a break soon. Someone who sees him dumping the next body or remembers something at the bars. Danny is still combing through old case files looking forany more of them that match. He can’t have just started out this good at killing.”
“No, that’s unlikely. There will be some lesser crimes. Assault or something. There’s one more thing you might try.” He stops until her gaze meets his. “You might have to do a press conference.”
Later that afternoon, Dover found herself standing next to her captain in front of a bank of microphones and cameras. Her boss agreed that a press conference was necessary as soon as possible before even more speculation about the deaths circulated. All of the larger Boston stations were in attendance. She even recognized several of the reporters.
“Good afternoon,” the press liaison began. “Captain Bradford would like to say a few words before turning this press conference over to lead Detective Addams. Please hold any questions for after.”
Dover watched her boss step up to the microphones. She knew he was speaking, but she had tuned him out as she went over what she needed to say in her head. This would be her first press conference where she had to speak. She had stood in the background in several, but never at the front.
The captain stepped back and nodded to her. Wiping her hands on her slacks, she stepped forward.
“On June seventh, at approximately seven twenty-five in the morning, Detective Gallagher and I were called to a homicide at a local private school. The victim, Trent Alleman, had been strangled and left on the soccer pitch.
“The following week, Jack Dawson was discovered strangled and dumped in a similar manner. During the course of thisinvestigation it came to our attention that two other homicides matched the MO of both Mr. Alleman’s and Mr. Dawson’s murders.
“We have provided photos of each victim in your press packet. We are asking the public to look at the photos closely. Each man was last seen at a bar in the Boston area. If you have any information or saw any of them on the dates of their disappearances, please call.”
She followed up by giving the phone number of the new hotline being set up back at the office. She also repeated the dates each man was last seen before stopping.
A cacophony of questions immediately flew at her. Both she and the captain did their best to answer them all. Finally, the press officer stepped forward and brought the conference to a close.
They didn’t mention the name of the bars the victims were last seen in. Hopefully, they wouldn’t become overwhelmed with false leads from bars not involved. And no one wanted to be the cause of lost business when people found out a serial killer had been prowling a particular pub.
Dover followed the rest of the team back inside the police station. She split off to check on the call room that was now staffed by several junior officers. The phones would start ringing soon after the five o’clock news. For now, they were sipping on sodas from the vending machine and talking to each other. There would be no time for that soon.
“Did you catch the news conference?” she asked, walking into her office.
“I did,” Dex answered. He was sitting on the other side of her desk looking through a file. “I just got an interesting phone call.”
“Addams,” the captain said, sticking his head in the office. “You and Tanaka come with me.” He walked off without waiting for them. Dex stood and followed Dover into the hallway.
“What did you do?” she whispered.