Detective Tom Reilly dropped the photo onto the desk, ran a palm over his buzz-cut scalp, and lifted his deep-blue eyes to stare at his colleague, Jarrod Blair.
"I'm not sure, Jarrod," he replied slowly, as he drew his gaze back to the image of a bruised, battered and naked woman that had landed face-up on his wooden desk, located in a office on the second of the Police building in the 96th precinct. The woman whose slim, attractive features, age, long brunette tresses, and deep brown eyes reminded him of his wife. So much so, that they could have been sisters. Not that you could tell from the crime-scene photo's.
In those, Stephanie Davis barely resembled a human being at all, however beside it sat another, obtained from her next of kin, that had been taken two …show more content…
All mid-thirties with long brunette hair, slim, athletic bodies, and brown eyes. Thomas had identified the pattern, and now, for the first time in his career, the thirty-eighy year old, who'd investigated multiple homicides, suicides, and accidental deaths of virtually every variety, had a serial-killer on his …show more content…
Your big-break, and career ambitions down the drain. Catch this guy, the sky's the limit." Jarrod, though ten years younger than Tom, and a relative rookie, didn't need to stress that his ambitions were also at stake. "But if you don't, and just hand him off to the FBI, you're no different to any other schmuck. I don't know what you're fucking worried about; they look a little like you're wife, so what? So do three million other women." His partner jabbed a forefinger on each of the photp's that lay on Tom's desk, in turn." Nina Ross, separated. Angela Pattinson, never married. Stephanie Davies, divorced. All lived alone. The guy goes for easy