Pickles looks at me as if I’ve just told him he won the lottery. “You got it, Chief.”

I glance at Detrick’s cocky deputy. “Hunnaker, Doc Coblentz says foreign-object rape was involved with both victims. There’s a possibility this suspect is impotent. I want you to check with area urologists and get a list of men treated for erectile dysfunction.”

Hunnaker shifts in his chair and tries not to look embarrassed.

The second deputy, Barton, whispers, “Don’t worry, Hun, you can leave yourself off the list.”

Laughter rumbles through the room. I don’t join them, but the humor eases some of the tension.

Sheriff Detrick nods as if he approves. “What about doctor/patient confidentiality? Won’t that be a problem?”

“Not if we can get a warrant.” I look at Auggie Brock, purposefully putting him on the spot. “Don’t you play golf with Judge Seibenthaler?”

Auggie can’t hold my gaze. “Judge doesn’t know a damn four iron from a putter,” he says.

That earns him a few laughs, but the mood remains somber. “Call him,” I say. “See if you can get warrants if we need them.”

I address Barton. “I want a list of all registered sex offenders for the same counties and towns I mentioned earlier. Most police departments have lists online.”

Nodding, he jots in a small notebook. “Pedophiles, too?”

“That, too.” I turn my attention to Glock. “Tread and footwear imprints.”

The former Marine leans back and addresses everyone with the cool competence of a CEO talking to a group of high school seniors. “I just got off the phone with BCI. Second batch of evidence has arrived at the lab and is being processed as we speak. We’ve got priority.” He gives Tomasetti a pointed look, telling everyone Super Agent raised his magic wand and lit a fire. “With regard to the first batch of tire imprints and footwear impressions, they ran a comparison analysis and we got a partial tread. They’re trying to match it up with a manufacturer now. If they can do that, they’ll work on finding the retailer.”

“Retailer might be able to get us a name.” Detrick states the obvious.

“Especially if he paid by check or credit card,” Glock adds.

“Or surveillance cameras.” I look at Mona at the back of the room. She’s fiddling with the buttons on her sweater. “Mona?”

Her attention jerks to me. She looks excited, pleased to be called upon. She’s not a cop, but for the first time, that doesn’t matter. I’ve got the perfect assignment for her.

“I want you to put together a list of evidence,” I begin. “I also want a photo log made. You can look online for examples of how they’re typically done.”

“I saw it on an episode of Murder Files.” A murmur of chuckles goes around the room and she bites her lip.

I give her a smile. “How are you coming along on the abandoned properties list?”

“I’ve got twelve homes and two businesses so far,” she replies.