Rivers wasn’t sure what he expected from Earl Ray Dansen, but it certainly wasn’t two digital pictures, one each of two dead women. The first was of Charity Spritz, her face battered and bruised, similar to the photographs Detective Tanaka had sent to him. The second picture, according to Earl, was Willow Valente, lying on a bed, a bullet hole visible in her temple.

“Jesus,” Mendoza whispered.

“Where did you get these?” Rivers demanded, stunned, his jaw tight as they stood in what had once been the reception area of the newspaper’s offices. One of the fluorescent lights overhead was buzzing, hinting that it was about to go out, and the entire suite of offices beyond seemed empty.

“Came from Charity Spritz’s phone.” Earl scrolled down and showed Rivers and Mendoza the text message: ANOTHER VICTIM.

“What the hell?” Rivers said under his breath. The killer was obviously taunting them—or, at least, taunting Earl.

“I’m going to have to take the phone. Evidence,” Rivers said, his mind racing. Pictures of two dead women, obviously from the killer. Somehow the murderer had killed Charity Spritz in the Bay Area, then come to Riggs Crossing to take Willow Valente’s life. Or possibly the other way around; he didn’t have a timeline on Valente yet. His insides turned cold.

“Yeah, I figured you’d want this.” Earl frowned, but he handed over his cell. “But just so you know, I’m running with the story. Both homicides. They’re the Clarion’s. Exclusive.”

“Whoa. Wait. Not until we investigate. Check and find out if this really is Willow Valente. This could be staged,” Mendoza said. “We just don’t know yet. She may be still alive.”

“She’s not,” Earl said with confidence. “Look at that picture.”

Mendoza reminded him, “If she is deceased, you can’t run her name until we notify next of kin.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know the drill. But the minute you do, we’re going to put it out in the digital edition, and then as the lead for the next printing.”

Rivers couldn’t do anything about that. “Is Willow Valente a friend of Charity Spritz?”

Earl lifted a shoulder, puffed out his lips, thinking. “Not that I know of. Never heard her speak of her.”

“Had she talked to her recently?” Rivers asked.

“Hey.” Earl Ray scowled. “Didn’t I just say, ‘I don’t know’?” Then he swiped at the air dismissively, as if he were swatting at a bothersome fly. “I guess it’s not all that odd. I don’t keep track of my employees’ personal lives. Unless Charity had been working on a story on Valente, I have no reason to connect them.”

“So she hadn’t?” Rivers pressed.

“That’s what I’m saying, not that I know of.”

“What do you know about Valente?” Rivers figured Earl Ray had already started doing some research.