Giving up the fight, Andie sighed and clicked on the TV, the voices from Below Deck filtering through the speakers. I dialed Adam’s number but got the answering machine again. I tried to distract myself by watching the show but an hour later the lack of response was making me edgy. I felt like a needy high school girl in a relationship, calling every ten minutes and hanging up when he didn’t answer. I willed my phone to ring but it remained silent. What is taking him so long? Was the friendly outgoing message on his answering machine just an act and he’s avoiding me? Realizing it was getting late, I resigned myself to the fact that I had to stop trying him for the night. Not ready to fall asleep quite yet with my thoughts spiraling, I grabbed my laptop and began searching for everything I could find on TSK. I squinted my eyes at the sketch of his general appearance given by the two almost-victims who had escaped his abduction attempt. I desperately searched for shared characteristics but the drawing was too vague to be helpful. As I went down a dark rabbit hole, I noticed most of the articles surrounding TSK were written by the same investigative journalist, Beccah Williams. I looked up her bio and read:

‘Beccah Williams is an American journalist, best known for her award-winning series interviewing family members of The Tri-State Killer’s victims. She graduated with an MFA in Writing from Columbia University, where she now leads workshops on creative non-fiction and investigative journalism. Williams also serves on the Board of Directors for the National Association of Black Journalists.’

Scrolling through the list of awards and accomplishments Beccah had to her name, I knew I had to speak to her. After a few furious minutes of searching I was able to find an email address and fired off a message asking if she’d be willing to connect and discuss the case with me. Perhaps she would have more details than the FBI were willing to share. I closed my laptop and poured myself a nightcap, hoping I could mask the dark images filling my mind enough to fall asleep.

VICTIMS 14 & 15

Miranda Grey & Laura Harrington

2004

CHAPTER 18

Miranda stirred the soup with a wooden spoon in the saucepan, making sure not to burn it. When Laura had accidentally burned one side of his chicken last week, he’d pressed her palm to the hot stove top, scarring the inside of her hand badly. She’d whimpered all night long, clutching her hand to her chest. It still hadn’t healed. Miranda turned on the burner under the cast iron skillet to make his grilled cheese. He was reading the newspaper rather than watching her, which was rare.