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captive for approximately four days according to time of abduction and discovery of body versus decomposition, restrained but no adhesive residue was found during the initial external exam, raped multiple times but oral and anal rape kits were negative.”

Parker shook his head. “At least he spared them that.” Surin’s face turned around to look at him, but she said nothing, so Vector continued.

“Manually strangled four to five times before dying of asphyxiation.” He shifted in his seat and scrolled down the page. “Now, the toxicology screens, according to vitreous fluid, were negative for opioids, benzodiazepines and amphetamines.”

Parker interrupted, “Vitreous fluid?”

Vector smiled. “Fluid that is drawn from the eye.” He watched as Parker visibly paled.

“Thanks, I’ll put that in my ‘don’t ever need to know file.’” He swallowed. “Please, doctor, go on.”

“You’re not going to like this, Surin, but that’s it.” He took his glasses off and placed them on the bench.

“What do you mean?” she replied, looking at Parker then back to Vector, confused.

“I mean, no fingerprints, no DNA, no semen,” he continued, sounding mildly agitated. “Each one of these files is the same.” He clicked the mouse and changed screens. “I received this file from Delaware just before you arrived,” he added. “Lilly Jackson, murdered in 2009, nineteen years old, her report may as well be identical to Emma’s.”

Surin shook her head and mentally gathered herself. “OK,” she sighed, “so there’s nothing forensic we can use.” But instead of sounding defeated, Vector heard a strength in her voice.

“Let’s look at the victims,” Parker started, “all young, nineteen to twenty-two, long dark hair, slim build, various occupations.”

Surin added, “No witnesses and no sign of forced entry.”

Parker looked again at his notes. “According to the families, none of the girls had current boyfriends or recent exes.” Surin stood and started pacing. Vector sat back and watched them bounce off each other.

“Is that strange? I mean these women were beautiful, smart and by all accounts responsible. It’s hard to believe they were all single,” she stated.

Parker shrugged. “Well, you fit most of those categories, and you’re single. Some women are more focused on their careers these days.”

Surin tried to ignore the fact that he had just called her beautiful and continued with their profile. “Let’s assume, for the moment, that Emma was his first — we need to find the trigger event that caused him to start all this,” Surin said.

Parker nodded and replied, “He has killed every two years until this year where, if you include the Lana Beau attempt, he was going for at least three.”

“So far,” Surin added.

Parker flicked a page in his notebook. “We know victimology is extremely important to this guy’s delusion. I mean, the mere idea that Lana wasn’t a true brunette was enough for him to abandon his whole fantasy.” Surin was nodding. “He stalks them, making sure they tick all the boxes he needs, he thinks he knows them, he chooses them.” Parker was looking at Surin intently, alarm bells were sounding somewhere in the back of his mind, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. “He’s trying to find a certain someone, or at least recreate them.”

Surin looked down at her hands, a sense of dread overcoming her. “Vector,” she interrupted quietly. “Did you also get the other lists I asked you for?”

Vector stood up. He had seen many partnerships over the years, but these two certainly had something very special.

“That I did, Detective,” he replied and walked over to the desk at the back of the room, reaching into the top drawer and pulling out a slim manila folder and handing it to her. “Everything is documented in here case by case.”

Surin held the file, looking down but not making a move to open it. “Thanks, Vec,” she said, clearing her throat and stuffing the folder straight into her tote bag. “We can review this back at the station.”

Vector looked at her, confusion plain on his face. “OK, then,” he said and glanced at Parker, who shrugged his shoulders and shook his head. Vector finally understood why there was an undercurrent of tension between the pair. Detective Surin Elliott was hiding something.

24

She may have had a few too many. She reached into her bag, trying to find her house keys when she realised the cab was still idling in her driveway. Turning, she covered her eyes from the headlights and waved him off. “Jesus, go already,” she murmured. The window wound down, and a young black man wearing a fedora leaned out, propping himself up on his arm.

“Don’t worry, ma’am, I’ll wait until you are safely inside.” He smiled.

That’s really what I need, she thought to herself, a knight in shining fucking armour. Digging through her bag, her hand finally wrapped around something familiar. Turning, she raised her Glock into the air and waved it at the man like a flag. “I think I’ll be fine,” she yelled. The cab driver ducked instinctively.

“Are you crazy, lady!” he yelled, winding up his window at warp speed.

She shook her head and held up her badge as well. “Relax,” she slurred, but the driver was already reversing out of her driveway. She turned, and only then did she realise that without the light from the taxi, she could barely see the keyhole. “Oh shit,” she said, and then laughed quietly to herself. “I wonder if he’ll come back.” On wobbly legs, she sat down on the front step and placed the gun beside her. I just need a few seconds to regroup, she told herself. What had started as one quick drink on the way home had turned into, actually, she couldn’t remember how many she had had.

Looking down, she noticed her bag moving. “What the…” Picking it up quickly, she held it to her ear. Her phone was vibrating. She scrambled around

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