That was where she was wrong. There was plenty to start with, to build a profile of the woman. My mind raced with the endless possibilities. I could start at the hospital, but I doubted I’d get far, not without a warrant, and even then, it would be minimal. The hospital never figured out who the woman was, and the police already had all their information on what she looked like and her injuries.

Multiple stabs, including a substantial wound to the lower abdomen.

“I have folders on every other victim,” Lenore noted.

“Those are a great start,” I said.

I watched as she flinched at the comment. It’d been a compliment, not a way to downplay the work she’d done, but I could already tell my words had discouraged her.

She glanced to her clasped hands, watching her fingers fidget with a ring she wore, the anxious tick a way to soothe her growing discomfort.

“Is this news source still in business?” I asked.

“The Briarport Chronicle?”

I nodded, turning the article I had opened toward her.

“They are, but I don’t see the point?”

For someone as naturally brilliant as her, I was shocked she didn’t see the missing piece.

“She’s the key,” I answered.

“No one has information on her besides what is in the article. It’s a dead end. I’ve tried,” she answered. “No one wants to see this case closed more than I do, but you won’t find anything looking into her. The FBI already tried.”

She was deflecting. Why?

“Yes, but they weren’t me, and I know far more tricks than they do for finding the information I want,” I pushed.

She tensed and curled her fingers into fists. Maybe it was too hard. 

“I think I have a printer at my rental,” I added, changing the subject. It wasn’t worth pushing her to close off when I’d just met her. “Would you mind bringing this laptop by this week for me to print the documents?”

She could email it to me, but I didn’t add that. I should’ve just asked her to do so, to cut her clean out of the case and continue alone.

Why was I making an excuse to see her again?

She was holding back. 

Instinct told me she knew more than she said. Was she protecting someone? Was she withholding pieces of research from me to put herself ahead at work?

She opened and her mouth and shut it. “Fine,” she answered. “But it will have to be a time when I’m not working.”

She crossed her arms, her lips pulled thin. I could tell she was growing sick of my prying.