I bag the list of numbers and hold them up. “Nameless phone numbers.” I set the baggy down on the counter for his team to log.

“Why do I think I need context for the numbers?”

“Both victims sent text messages with coded language that fits a game we think they were playing. And I think the numbers could be players or available throwaway phone numbers to use for the game.”

He asks me something about the game but I tune him out, already moving on. I open the refrigerator and expect a jar of blood. No blood. No wedding dress. Those things were meant to get my attention. I’m following a trail the killer wants me to follow.

I need to follow the trail the killer doesn’t want me to follow.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

I end up cornered in Naomi’s tiny kitchen with Houston demanding an update on the investigation. I’m eager enough to have him handoff the dirty work to his team, to give him what he wants. My summary ends with, “I’m leaving. The scene is all yours.”

“I’m going to call in a detective named Marco—”

“Polo?” I ask. “Because if that’s his name, don’t bother.”

“Rollins,” he supplies. “His name is Rollins. Good guy. Plays well with those who do not play well with others.”

“I’m certain I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m not staying to meet him. I have to run down a couple of leads here that may tie to both cases and then be back in Long Island to do interviews tonight. Have your detective line up the appropriate interviews. He can go at them today. I need to see them again tomorrow.”

“Any profiler insight?”

“He’s smart enough for me to have nothing but that to offer. He’s smart. That is all I have right now.”

“He?”

“I do think it’s a man, but the woman who showed up at my house last night has to stay in the playbook.”

“Chief!”

At his name, he steps out of the kitchen. I’m done with this conversation and thank fuck he’s headed down the hallway when I enter the living room. I text Jay: On my way out, and then make a fast path to the door, and once I’m outside in the patio area I hear a woman say, “I need answers. What happened?”

A few more steps and I bring Officer Kinsley into view as he stands with a woman sporting pink hair and sunbaked skin as well as a short-waisted winter coat. She’s holding a small dog. She’s also got one of those giant butts that no woman grows naturally that makes her have a pain in her ass while she’s being a pain in everyone else’s ass. She’s one of those people. It radiates from her. Jesus, help me get out of here.