Cover

Dedication

From Steph:
For my parents, Ann and Dave
And my husband, Danny

From Nicole:
For Mom and Dad

PROLOGUE

THE DAILY GAZETTE

Monday, April 2nd, 2012

THE TRI-STATE KILLER STRIKES AGAIN

The bodies of two Syracuse University women were found on Saturday, March 31st. They were discovered by bartender, Louis Castille, as he was disposing of the trash at the end of his shift. Castille noticed two large plastic storage containers that were sealed with duct tape, sitting next to the garbage bins in the secluded alley behind his bar. Castille called the police after opening one container and finding a body inside, which was later identified as Elizabeth Benton.

‘It was terrible,’ said Castille, still visibly shaken by his discovery. ‘She was folded over at the waist like she was kneeling in the bin, her hair was hanging forward and blocking her face, but the smell hit me as soon as the lid was removed.’

The second container held the body of Kelly Davidson, Benton’s roommate. The women were reported missing a little over nine months ago after they failed to show up for classes and work. After a thorough search of the small two-bedroom home the women were renting near campus, police found evidence indicating the perpetrator had broken in through a window at the back of the house, entering through the kitchen. What the police didn’t find, however, were signs of a struggle, suggesting the women may have been asleep or otherwise taken by surprise during the attack.

The two deaths are believed to be the twenty-second and twenty-third victims attributed to The Tri-State Killer. To date, eleven pairs of bodies have been discovered in sealed containers across the Tri-State area. Benton and Davidson’s bodies were in the early stages of decomposition, suggesting they had been killed not long before their bodies were discarded in the alley.

The Tri-State Killer is known for abducting and murdering young women in pairs, however the first killing attributed to him back in 1974, was a single victim. The body of Linda Lavelle, found dumped in the woods on a pile of assembled rocks, was connected to the subsequent double murders by the numbers penned on to each victim’s forehead, including Lavelle. A statement from law enforcement noted, ‘Most likely, the first murder was an unplanned victim of opportunity. This sloppiness is why our only evidence, a partial DNA sample, is from the first victim. He’s been honing his craft, his method of kidnapping and murdering for almost forty years, which makes him extremely dangerous.’

A pair of victims has been found every two years since 1992, marking a distinct cyclical pattern to the killings. Other than the single DNA sample, law enforcement also has grainy CCTV camera footage from 1992 of the killer leaving a set of bins behind a restaurant, as well as a rough sketch from a botched kidnapping attempt in 1999. Both give nothing more than a general description of the killer, as he was skilled at keeping his face hidden during both sightings.

Police are cautioning women in the Tri-State Area to be on the look-out for suspicious behavior and only travel in groups of three or more, as well as to be cautious of opening their doors to strangers in the evening, and to keep doors and windows properly locked.

His fingers gripped the edge of the newspaper so tightly that it wrinkled, causing creases to ripple through the text. At the bottom of the article was the pathetic excuse for a police sketch that really didn’t look anything like him except for the baseball cap. The guy in the dark, grainy image from the video footage could be anyone at all – it was almost comical, really. He laid the paper down on the scarred wooden table and sat back. They had missed several details. A sharp smile stretched across his face, lingering as he reflected on how he had outsmarted the police for so many years. While it was a mistake that he hadn’t been aware of the security camera in the alley where he’d discarded numbers two and three, and he’d miscalculated the time the second roommate was arriving home that one fateful night in 1999, causing him to scramble out the back door, the fallout from both had been minimal. After forty years of carrying out his mission, they only had his approximate height and eye and hair color. He’d been savvy enough to adjust his process after that girl, Sara, had changed her routine. The solution was ingenious. It lured these women into unknowingly allowing him full access into their lives. And the police were still no closer to finding him, the imbeciles. He was not worried.

The sunlight filtered through the window above the sink, lighting up the small kitchen with its outdated appliances and broken cabinet knobs. The ancient refrigerator hummed loudly, most likely needing a new evaporator fan. He really should put some effort into fixing up the cabin, but he was getting older and even though he kept himself in good shape, the arthritis in his joints sometimes made home repairs a struggle. He preferred to save his strength for the girls. The cabin had been outfitted well for hunting and fishing, and the tiled cleaning and gutting room had certainly come in handy. But for his purposes, he’d needed other things added and adjusted. All the work he’d done in the beginning had been for function, not vanity. The appliances still worked fine, and he’d already replaced the roof when it’d been damaged by a storm a few years back. He felt lucky that in all these years the only repairs needed were the roof and the occasional broken floorboard, things he could manage on his own. If the plumbing had failed he would have been in a bind. The last thing he wanted was to bring a repair guy into his special place.

Clenching his fist, the heat rose to his cheeks as he reread the article calling his first murder sloppy. The police didn’t even use DNA evidence back then so how could he have known to be more careful? That didn’t make him sloppy. He’d wiped off his fingerprints, hadn’t he? All those other killers had been caught by stupid mistakes, mistakes he’d never make, and they had the audacity to call him sloppy? He slammed his fist down onto the table, causing his glass to tip over and crash down to the floor, shattering as it sent small slivers of glass in every direction.

A scream erupted behind him. Then another. As the screaming went on he rose from his chair and walked over to the door. He would give them a chance to stop on their own. No one would ever call him unreasonable. When the screaming continued, he pulled out the keys and unlocked the door. He gripped the handle and slowly turned. All noise stopped immediately. Satisfied, he released the knob and rubbed his hand up and down the door, savoring the grooves in the wood under his fingertips.

CHAPTER 1

‘Liz, you better not have looked without me!’ Andie shouted as she slammed the front door behind her, clicking the deadbolt to the locked position and throwing her keys into the bowl on the small entry table with a light clink.

She dropped her purse on the fifties style oval dining table that I had begrudgingly helped her drag up the stairs after she’d found it at the Brooklyn Flea. Andie had called it a ‘steal’ at $100, bragging about bartering it down from the original $200 price tag. I had noted the scratched legs and scuffs across the top but remained silent since Andie seemed to love it so much. The next day I contributed three chairs I’d found at a local furniture store, whose colors picked up the flecks in the tabletop. They elevated the vintage table and I had to admit, it had grown on me.

I rolled my eyes. ‘Of course I didn’t. I just called you five minutes ago to tell you the results were in and your very explicit threats were enough incentive to wait.’

I loved my cousin Andie and was closest to her out of everyone in our large, loud extended family. Really, we were more like sisters than cousins and being only a year apart in age meant we did everything together growing up. Her quippy, vibrant attitude was always just what I needed to make me laugh or stop me from teetering over into what Andie referred to as my ‘default serious mode.’ She frequently made fun of my more responsible nature but also appreciated the way it helped keep her out of trouble. We butted heads at times but always balanced each other well. It just made sense that when we left our respective homes in New Jersey to cross over into the bustling work hive of New York City, we would be roommates to share both the memories and the expensive rent.

We’d been lucky to find a unique two-bedroom in a Greenpoint townhouse with tons of natural light that we could actually afford, something we hadn’t thought was possible. While our side street was a bit rundown with boarded-up buildings scattered along the block, construction in the surrounding areas suggested improvement in the future. The townhouse was next to Belly of the Beast, a beasts of the world themed bar with a large outdoor patio. Previous tenants had complained about the noise that went on until the early hours of the morning, making it difficult for the owners to find renters, even after they’d updated the appliances and had the hardwood floors refinished. There were only three apartments in the building: the second floor occupied by a woman in her seventies who was hard of hearing, and the third-floor unit belonged to Mickey, the lead bartender at The Beast. The ground floor apartment had sat empty for over a month, a rarity in New York real estate, causing the owners to lower the price. While we had initially been avoiding ground floor units due to safety concerns, we couldn’t believe the amount of space and amenities for the price. Both me and Andie slept like the dead, so when the owners nervously mentioned the issue with the noise keeping other tenants away, we’d felt like we’d hit the jackpot and signed the lease right away, pushing down any concerns and relishing the excitement over our first home.

Andie kicked off her clunky but comfy clogs and stripped shamelessly out of her green-blue scrubs as she crossed the living room before grabbing her cotton robe from a hook just inside her bedroom door. She wrapped it around herself and plopped down next to me on our blue and white striped Ikea couch, rippling the cushions and reaching for my laptop with gusto.

‘Well it was me who gifted you the 23andMe kit for your birthday after all, my sweet baby cousin. Of course I want to see your results.’

‘First of all,’ I said, snatching the computer from Andie’s reach, ‘I really wish you would shower after work before getting so cozy next to me on the couch.’ Andie rolled her eyes but gestured wildly at her robe. I’d yelled at her before for sitting down in her scrubs when she got home from the hospital, and apparently she thought this was a big improvement. I shivered at the idea of all the potential germs that could be clinging to her after one of her shifts. Sighing, trying to shake away those thoughts, I continued. ‘And second of all, turning 27 means I’m far from being your baby anything.’

‘Okay, okay,’ Andie said, giving me a playful shove. ‘Pull it up already!’

‘Why are you so invested? You did your own last month, I’m sure my results won’t be that different,’ I replied as I typed my email and password into the 23andMe homepage.

‘I mean we’ll definitely have some similar results from our dads’ Italian heritage,’ Andie said as she reached forward and grabbed my glass of red wine, taking a swig.

‘You could get your own glass you know; the bottle is on the kitchen counter like five feet away. Our apartment isn’t that big.’

Andie ignored me, ‘But it’ll be fun to see what comes up from your mom’s side.’

‘Oh, you mean Italian, Italian, and some more Italian? I feel like these will be the least diverse results of all time,’ I said, laughing, mimicking the large hand gestures as I spoke that were so common when anyone in my house was talking.

Andie laughed. ‘It’s 2019, Lizzie, get with the times. Everyone is checking their DNA these days and who knows, maybe you’ll have some mixed heritage from way far back that you didn’t know about. Plus, we know how much you need to know everything, all the time. I thought this would be right up your alley.’

‘Hey, I can’t help it if I have an inquisitive mind,’ I said with a smirk. Andie rolled her eyes dramatically. ‘But okay, I concede. It’s a cool gift, alright? Let’s just look at it,’ I said as I clicked ‘Sign In’. I could feel that familiar tingle of excitement I always got when I was on the verge of learning new information. ‘Okay, so now what?’

‘Click there,’ Andie said, pointing to the Ancestry icon under ‘Quick Links’ on the left side of the page. I obeyed and a new page loaded showing a colorful wheel and a few geographical regions. ‘Well that’s weird.’

‘What?’ I asked, leaning forward to inspect the screen closer.

‘I don’t think those are the same as my main regions. Maybe your mom’s genes influenced you more than your dad’s. Click “View your ancestry composition” so we can get a more detailed breakdown,’ Andie instructed.

I obliged and a new screen showing a list of what percentage of each region made up my complete DNA profile appeared on the page. ‘That’s interesting,’ I said as my eyes scanned the information. ‘It’s saying my relatives are mainly from Mexico and Northwestern Europe. How is Italy not in the top two? What did yours say?’

‘Predominately Southern European, with lots of Italy and Spain or Portugal.’ She hesitated for a moment, her normally lively eyes looking a little anxious. ‘Click the “Family and Friends” thing at the top and let’s look at your relatives list so we can compare our results,’ Andie said after a long pause.

‘Okay, let’s see …’ I said, glancing at her out of the corner of my eye, not sure why she was fidgeting all of a sudden. I navigated to the screen showing my complete list of relatives in the 23andMe customer database. ‘Where are you?’ I said, scrolling down the first page of results. I didn’t recognize any of the names listed. Andrea Catalano was nowhere to be seen. ‘We have the same last name, how are you not on my list?’

‘Yeah, this is crazy,’ Andie replied, a look of confusion and worry etched deep into her warm brown eyes.

‘I’m calling my mom,’ I said as face recognition unlocked my iPhone. ‘Clearly something weird is going on here.’

‘Yeah, good idea,’ Andie said as I quickly typed out a message asking my mom if she had time to talk. In typical loving-but-overbearing mother fashion, my phone immediately started ringing in my hand.

‘Hey Mom,’ I said as I answered the FaceTime call.

‘Hi sweetie, how’s everything going? Did you see that article I sent you yesterday about that new dating app everyone’s using that matches you with friends of friends of friends? Maybe you should give it a try? You know I worry about you girls being all alone in that apartment. I know Andie has her boyfriend, but it would be nice if—’

‘Yes, Mother, I saw it,’ I interrupted with an exaggerated sigh, cutting her off before she really got going.

Ever since I’d dumped my last boyfriend Evan for cheating on me three months ago, my mom had nagged me about dating and her desire for grandchildren every chance she got. I’d caught Evan cheating with a coworker of his and that was the end of that. I didn’t even cry when he tried to explain that he’d fallen in love with this other woman and that he hadn’t meant to hurt me. Instead, I’d smashed his phone under my foot and stormed out. I’d told my mom countless times that I wasn’t ready to date yet, that I needed more time, but Catalanos had a history of marrying young and my mom was anxious to become a grandma. I hadn’t told her about the couple of dates I’d gone on in the last month for fear of her getting too excited about dates that would probably go nowhere. I had found something fundamentally wrong with each of them: too clingy, too messy, too boring. No matter how much my mom wanted me to be in a relationship, after dipping my toe in the dating waters I knew I just wasn’t able to let anyone in yet. Keeping the dates from her had been nagging at me, as that was so out of character for our relationship, but I couldn’t bear the full court press after each failed date. I would fill her in eventually.

‘Hey Aunt Carmela!’ Andie called out, leaning into the frame, almost pushing me out of it.

‘Oh, hi Andrea. What are you two up to this evening?’ My mom’s enthusiastic smile radiated on the screen, and I was thankful for the change in topic away from my struggling love life.

‘I’m not sure if I told you, but Andie gave me a DNA ancestry test kit for my birthday after we got back from the party at Gram’s, and I just got my results in,’ I said, trying to take the frame back over from where Andie had squeezed in.

‘Oh, really? A DNA kit?’ I noticed a twitch in my mom’s smile as it fell. The color drained from her normally rosy cheeks.

‘Yeah,’ I hesitated, nervous by my mom’s reaction. ‘It tells you, based on percentages, what regions your ancestors came from and connects you with other family that have done the same kit. But it’s weird, Mom.’ Now, my mom was definitely fidgeting, her eyes darting out of the frame. And was I crazy or did I see the glint of a tear on her lashes? Maybe it was just the lighting, I rationalized, but then a crazy thought popped into my head. Did my mom have an affair? Is my dad not really my dad? A wave of fear swelled inside me but I quickly tried to tamp it down. ‘Andie isn’t showing up on my relatives list even though she did a kit too and our geographic regions are totally different. Is there something you have to tell me? Why wouldn’t Andie and I be related?’

‘Gary!’ my mom called out over her shoulder.

‘Mom, what’s going on?’

‘Gary!’ she shouted out again instead of answering me. ‘Can you come in here for a minute? I’m on FaceTime with Elizabeth.’

‘What’s our little Lizard up to tonight?’ My dad said in his usual I’m so funny voice as he descended down the stairs and came into the frame.

‘She did one of those DNA kits, Gary,’ she told him, looking somber.

‘Oh,’ he said as the smile dropped from his face, sitting down next to her. He looked anxious, not an emotion I was used to seeing from my charming, goofy dad. He averted his eyes and looked at my mom. ‘Well, we knew this day would come eventually.’

‘Can someone please tell me what’s going on?’ I demanded, sharing a confused glance with Andie who was watching with rapt attention.

‘Oh, Lizzie,’ my mom said, a wobble in the video as she readjusted her grip on her own phone. ‘There’s something we have to tell you.’ My dad nodded.

‘Well, what is it?’ I asked, on the edge of the couch cushion. My dad put his arm around my mom’s shoulders before answering.

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