Page 32 of The Killer You Know

“I’m skipping,” Nikki says, clicking into Brittney’s phone once again. “I’m going to scour the heck out of the internet for both of our victims. Something is out there, I can feel it.” Her eyes flit to mine. “And I’m not forgetting about your sister either. I meant what I said. We’re going to crack this. She won’t even be a challenge.”

I nod her way. “Here’s hoping.”

Jack pulls a keyboard forward. “I’ll pull up those bloody footprints from the scene and a few scuffs in the dirt from the kidnapping.”

Frame by frame we inspect the measurements of the footprints and, oddly enough, there aren’t any clean prints at either locale.

Jack shakes his head. “It’s almost as if the perpetrator at both scenes knew to smear their footprints just enough to throw us. I’m hard-pressed to believe that this was unintentional.”

“I agree,” I say as a fresh wave of adrenaline courses through me. “It’s as if they had the same MO.”

“Then we can’t rule out the fact it’s either the same person or same network of people,” Nikki says. “I don’t think we need any more clues to confirm this.”

I pick up a laptop from the lab and key in the passwords for every social media site and email server that Brittney and Robin had access to.

Nikki and I spend the next few hours turning over every stone the internet has to offer with all of their digital lives laid bare before us. The perpetrator may have taken off in a dark sedan according to security cameras in Robin’s neighborhood. I look up every vehicle registered to any and everyone from Vanessa, to Derek, to the sisters at the scene of the kidnapping to Brittney herself. No one checks off the box.

Evening starts to roll around and Jack and I take off with Buddy in tow.

Jack makes a call and, sure enough, the boss is back in the Penalty Box.

We head to Elmwood for the second half of this day.

Derek Russell, we’re coming for you.

21

Special Agent Fallon Baxter

Jack and I step into the Penalty Box as the familiar cacophony of clinking glasses and friendly banter fills the air.

The place is dimly lit, filled to the hilt with bodies, there’s a baseball game on just about every screen, and the scent of grilled steak hits a high note with our senses, and that of Buddy’s.

The poor pooch looks up at me, hopeful, and I give him a quick pat. “I’ll make it up to you,” I say as Jack nods.

“My stomach is asking me to do the same,” he says. “We should get dinner after this.”

“This whole eating thing is cyclical with you, isn’t it?” I tease.

“It’s one of my finer qualities,” he says.

“It’s one of Buddy’s, too,” I say, offering him another quick pat. “You seem to have a lot in common with the dog.” I give a little wink as I say it. Considering that the dog in question is Buddy, it’s basically a compliment.

“I’m starting to think some of the women at the reunion would agree with you.” Jack sighs hard as he looks around at the place. “Thank you for agreeing to be my plus-one.”

“You mean plus-two. Nikki’s going as well.”

“Yes, but she’s just going as a friend. You’re my official date. I’ve seen the way Nikki dances. I can’t be too closely associated with that.”

“I’m not any better,” I warn just as we spot that familiar dark-haired man behind the bar.

Derek is busy wiping down glasses with an absent-minded efficiency before looking up as we approach. And just like that, his easygoing demeanor dissipates.

“Hey.” He nods our way, forcing a smile, but it never initiates. “What’s going on? Did you find Brittney?” His question slices through the din of conversation and seems to be weighted with genuine concern. But where his concern lies is the question.

“Not yet,” I say. “And sorry about the dog. I just didn’t want to leave him in the car.”

“The dog is welcome,” he says as his eyes flit from Jack to me. “The two of you, I’m not so sure about. You look pretty serious.”

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