“That works now, when we have nothing else to go off of,” Gabe said, “but are you going to be too blinded trying to connect this back to Vallejo when there are other leads? You better not just be looking to prove your own theory.”

Ruby took a step back. This was her home turf. Bellisario knew her better than he knew Gabe. Were they both simply single-mindedly obsessed with a killer who took down one of their own? Was their grudge going to derail this investigation?

“Working at this speed, he’s got to make a mistake at some point,” Ruby said. “Obviously Vallejo himself isn’t sneaking out of prison to commit crimes. Whoever it is will be trying to fill big shoes and somewhere along the line, he’ll trip.”

That would be nice. The sooner the killer messed up, the better. There were lives hanging in the balance.

“If you’re so sure, then find more connections between our victims and Vallejo,” Gabe challenged, “at least, until we get another real, substantial lead.”

Ruby set her jaw, but Gabe took that as a sign. She didn’t have all the answers right now.

CHAPTER SIX

Ruby stared at the two photos affixed to the white board. Both women had their lives cut short much too early.

The women didn’t look alike. If the killer had a type, it wasn’t to do with hair color or eye color or even build. They specialized in different subjects, went to different schools, went to different bars. The women led two completely different lives, but the killer picked them. Ruby was sure there had to be a reason.

Two people simply did not represent enough data to establish the kind of pattern recognition that would be useful right about now.

Ruby pressed the heels of her hands into her temples, massaging the area as if it might knock loose a brilliant epiphany. Vallejo had reasons, but he didn’t really connect himself to his victims, and explaining that to Gabe seemed like a lost cause. She’d only come across as desperate.

She turned to Gabe, flipping through the files and marking points of interest on a map. Push pins marked out the crime scenes, where the women worked, the schools they graduated from, and where they lived. It looked like a connect-the-dots puzzle, if the puzzle only made a nonsensical blob.

They were gradually taking over the room, wallpapering it with every shred of data they could scrounge up.

Gabe stood back from the map, satisfied with the pin points that might prove themselves useful once they knew more. He dropped down at the long table in the center of the room, picking up a take-out of noodles that must have gone cold by now.

“Are you going to finish yours?” Gabe asked.

Ruby glanced back at him, watching as his attention seemed to go unfocused.