“Thanks to Poe, she’s identified a woman who might be one of our victims. The woman has fingerprints on file for an arrest for drug possession.”

“Poe to the rescue again. Maybe you shouldn’t burn that bridge.”

“I don’t burn bridges,” Spencer said.

“Bullshit,” Manchester said.

He was careful to manage his addiction. Like a good addict who used clean needles, he paid attention to the details, because careful planning kept him in control.

That was why he always took the battery out of all the women’s phones. They were GPS monitoring systems, and the perfect device to lead cops right to his doorstep, so he kept them powered down, memory cards removed. His silent collectibles reminded him of the women who had carried them and considered them their mini safe spaces that guarded against all bad things. You could be talking to a friend while crossing a dark alley, but comforting conversations did not protect anyone from him.

Smiling, he inspected the latest one. It had a pink cover studded with rhinestones. Curious, he picked up the device’s battery and put it inside. He could indulge for only a minute or two, but he wanted to know who was looking for his little toy in the basement. Better to know who was chasing you.

The screen came alive, and a picture of the young woman appeared. In the photo, she arched her head back and gathered her lips into a pout. He typed in the passcode his new friend had kindly given him.

There were a half dozen messages. Most were from her mother. He listened to all of them. Casey’s mother was worried about her darling. She feared she was making bad choices. Which was exactly what she had done.

And then there was a message from Jordan Poe. The detective stated she was looking for Casey and wanted her to call.

Startled to hear the detective’s voice, he removed the battery and reconsidered the moves he had made over the last four weeks. He had been careful. Always avoided the cameras, kept his face hidden just in case he missed one, and he selected women who would not be reported missing right away.

And still Poe was sniffing on his trail.

If he were prudent, he would stop. At least for a little while. Let the case cool. The news cycle changed so fast. He would play with his toy for weeks or months while the world forgot about her and the murdered women.

Detective Poe would find Casey, eventually, but it would be too late.