Laurel stood on the sidewalk and squinted to better see the woman. Like all the others, she lay on her back in the snow, her hands removed. Bones poked out of her face, which had been beaten to the point that very little structure remained. Even an eyeball appeared to have dropped next to what used to be her neck. “His rage was amped up many degrees this time. Most likely because he failed to kill us.”

Huck’s jaw hardened. “There aren’t as many flowers around her.”

“No. The other scenes held between thirty and forty with an average of thirty-three,” she murmured. “There are only twenty here.” They were buried beneath an inch of snow, their petals frozen and eerily dark.

“Maybe he’s running out,” Monty said, turning and coughing.

“Or he’s keeping more for his next victim.” Laurel looked around. “There’s not enough blood here. Was she killed inside?”

Monty shook his head. “No. She was killed in the backyard, which is hidden from the neighbors by tall trees. The techs are processing now. Want to go back there?”

“After they’re finished,” Laurel said.

“There are signs of a fight in the master bedroom, and it looks like he went in a basement window. No security system, and so far, none of the gawking neighbors have come forward with any information,” Monty said grimly, visibly shaking with cold.

Huck planted a hand on one of his shoulders. “Thanks for this, Monty. I’ve got it from here.”

Laurel nodded. The man needed rest and warmth, not death and arctic air. “We’ll call you later with updates.”

Officer Zello jogged up, his mustache white with frost. “Morning.”

Huck lowered his chin.

Laurel studied the officer, watching for any nuance that could tell her what he was thinking. She didn’t have honed instincts or gut reactions to people, but she spent time every chance she found memorizing facial and body-expression studies. “Who was she?”

He flipped open his notebook. “Driver’s license inside the purse by the doorway says she’s Eleanor Bove with this address as her physical one.” He kept reading. “I did a quick look online on my phone and found the same woman, similar picture, listed as the owner of Dr. Bove Dentistry.” He looked over his shoulder at the body. “The body is correct height and weight to be Dr. Bove, but we’ll need DNA to be positive. Can’t tell a thing from her face.” Regret seemed to fill his voice. Or was it sorrow? She couldn’t get the vibrations of people’s emotions that her mother said were possible.

Huck scrubbed a bruised hand through his messy hair. “Why wasn’t she on our radar? Did you check police reports?”

Officer Zello nodded. “Yeah. There’s nothing on the local or state level.”