The next morning Gavin sat in his office staring at photos from the crime scenes of Jeanne Coleman and Francine Donohue. He flipped through each one, comparing them. He’d been going back and forth for over a half hour, completely ignoring Warren, who sat on the opposite side of the desk.

He reached into his desk drawer, pulled out a container of antacids, chewed on two and then took two more. The stress was burning a hole through his stomach. The media was all over this case and a gang-related killing was no longer suggested. Instead they had taken the liberty of announcing a serial killer on the prowl. The mere whisper of such a rumor had upped the game. Damn it, Gavin thought.

There was no doubt the same person was responsible for both crimes. They had the same signature, and it was something that was never released to the media. Only the murderer would know to remove the sheets but leave the pillowcase behind. But there was no way this was random. These victims were woven together on a tighter level than some bizarre fetish associated with teeth and a pillowcase.

Gavin initially thought Francine’s sister, Samantha Ritcher, would be a prime person of interest because of her conviction record, but the more he checked out her past, the less optimistic he became.

Samantha had agreed to be interviewed and was due at any moment. As he waited for her to arrive, Gavin opened the case files, trying to see if there was any link between the victims.

Francine Donohue hadn’t owned a private practice but had been employed part time for a large dental group. Seven months ago she’d quit her job and a month later had quickly and quietly disappeared, only to be discovered dead in the Eastville Projects. Why had she left suburbia to live in a slum shortly before her estranged sister went looking for her?

Jeanne Coleman had a nephew who described her as reclusive. The last time the nephew had seen her was nearly a year and a half ago, and that was by coincidence at a local supermarket. He stopped to talk to her, chatted with her briefly and was eager to get on his way.

Two deaths. Both included women who were trying to be almost invisible. What were they hiding from? Tossing the file aside, he picked up Samantha Ritcher’s conviction record. He could feel Warren staring at him, and glanced up. Reading the expression on Warren’s face, he answered, “I’m not discounting her, but she just doesn’t fit the profile in this case.” Though she had a dirty past Gavin just didn’t think Samantha was the mastermind who executed these killings.

“That record doesn’t convince you?”

“This record is why I’m not convinced,” he answered plainly and handed the documents to Warren.