Page 36 of The Last Close Call

“No. Please.” She scooted past him, brushing against his arm. “I haven’t touched it in weeks. As soon as I remembered about the locket, I called Liz and told her.”

Bryan pulled a pair of latex gloves from the pocket of his pants. “Have you noticed anything else missing?”

“No. Nothing besides the locket. But I remembered Detective Bruner telling me there was evidence he’d been in my yard in the days beforehand. And he even said it was possible he’d been in the house before that night. So, you know, when I remembered the missing locket, I suddenly thought maybe that was him.”

The UNSUB had a history of slipping into women’s homes while he was stalking them. Jack believed it was reconnaissance. The guy would learn the floor plan and familiarize himself with points of exit ahead of time—sometimes even unlocking back doors to give himself multiple escape options. He would peek in windows and go through garages and trample flower beds, all in his effort to gain information about the scene of his next attack. Bryan believed there was more to it than reconnaissance, maybe some sort of power trip about sneaking into his victims’ homes when they weren’t there.

Evelyn was watching him carefully, her face a mix of dread and stoicism.

He motioned to the shelf. “Is it okay if I—”

“Go ahead.”

Bryan lifted the porcelain lid. Inside the box were a pair of small hoop earrings and a delicate gold chain.

“That’s where I keep it. Kept it.”

He replaced the lid. “And you’re sure you didn’t leave it somewhere, or possibly misplace it, back in November?”

“Positive.”

Bryan believed her. In addition to his recon missions, the UNSUB made a habit of stealing items from houses. He’d taken jewelry, underwear, cash. His first victim even reported that he’d taken the car keys sitting on her kitchen table. But—unfortunately for investigators—he hadn’t taken her car, which would have made him easy to track down.

“We’ll probably need to send a CSI out to fingerprint this.” He turned to Evelyn.

“That’s fine. Or you can take it with you. Whatever.”

“Do you mind?”

“No.” She gestured at it. “Take it.”

“I’ll need to get an evidence bag from my car.”

She stepped out of the doorway. “Sure. Do what you need to do.”

Bryan retraced his steps out of the house, noting the pink Big Wheel sitting on the porch. He retrieved an evidence envelope from his trunk and then returned to the bedroom, where Evelyn stood by the closet, reading her phone.

She glanced up. “Is there anything else you want in there?” She gestured toward the racks of clothes.

“Not at this time.”

Bryan photographed the box and carefully bagged it, folding the envelope so the contents wouldn’t get jostled around in transit. Then Evelyn led him past her daughter’s bedroom to the front door, where Bryan paused to write out an evidence receipt.

He felt her gaze on him as he stood beside the door. He looked up. “So. Where are you and your daughter moving?”

“South of the lake, near my sister. Hannah’s been great, but I’m sure she’s sick of us being on her sofa bed.” She glanced over her shoulder at her living room. “I found an apartment over near Zilker Park. It’s expensive but—” She looked at him. “At least it’s not here.”

Guilt needled him. Of the eight Austin victims, six had moved. Seven now, including Evelyn. Bryan hated that they had had to uproot their lives, but he didn’t blame them. He couldn’t imagine how they felt living in the same house, sleeping in the same room, where they’d been assaulted.

“So... you think there’s a chance his prints are on it?” she asked.

“We’ll find out.”

She looked away, and he felt another pang of guilt. Here they were two months later, and the guy who’d attacked her was still out there. Bryan wished like hell he could tell her they had made an arrest, or even that they were close to making an arrest, but they still hadn’t even identified a suspect, and it had been seven long years since the original rape. He glanced at the line of moving boxes behind her, and frustration filled his chest.

He handed her the receipt.

“Thank you,” she said. “And thanks for coming out.”

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