Page 8 of The Killer You Know

“It’s a message from Hale,” I grunt as I inspect it.

“Same,” he says. “There’s been a murder less than six miles from here.” His chest broadens with his next breath. “Looks as if our busy night just got busier.”

6

Special Agent Fallon Baxter

Jack’s grip on the steering wheel tightens as we approach Cedar Grove and enter Granite Estates, the enclave of houses where our next victim lived.

We hardly finished up at one crime scene and now we’re about to walk into the next.

Cedar Grove is far more residential than Aspen Heights. We’ve traded rural pastures for the bright lights of the suburbs, and judging by the neighbors crowding around the house in question, nobody in the suburbs is going to get a stitch of sleep tonight.

Jack parks cockeyed near the sidewalk, and we leave Buddy in the truck once again with the windows down. Although this time he looks much more motivated to join us.

Jack and I thread our way through the humanity, flashing our badges until we catch up with Nikki and Hale huddled with a deputy near the garage.

“What’s going on?” Jack asks as we jog their way just as the deputy takes off.

“Tough night in this end of Colorado.” Hale sighs as he glances at the house. “The husband called 911, reporting the fact he found his wife in a puddle of blood near the front door. Report says a knife wound is evident in her chest, her face was bloodied. She was dead when the husband arrived.”

Nikki nods as she looks up from her phone. “The sheriff just filled us in on her briefly. Apparently, her name was Robin Hanson, otherwise known as Relatable Robin. She has an Insta Pictures account with over one million followers called Oh so Relatable!”

“A million followers,” Jack grumbles. “That’s a million leads. Let’s go in and check it out.”

We do our best to navigate through the crowd as the CSI technicians move around us like ghosts, their cameras capturing every detail of the scene where Robin’s life brutally ended. The coroner’s office is here as well, moving methodically near the victim’s body. The poor thing is still lying exactly where she fell, like a silent testament to the violence that invaded this space.

The sheriff cuts us off just as we’re about to enter.

“You again.” Sheriff Diaz nods to Jack and me before introducing himself to Hale and Nikki. “We figured the intruder entered this way.” He leads us around to the side of the house and points to the back door. “The husband says it was rarely locked. No sign of forced entry, so that would make sense. We think they chased the victim to the front door. She was stabbed before she could unlock it. Fell to her death. There are tire marks around the corner. CSI is taking care of those.

“Her husband tried to enter through the front and hit the body with the door. He freaked out. Says she wasn’t breathing when he checked. He tried chest compressions, but that’s where her stab wound was. He called 911 and here we are.” He leads us around to the front where the door is opened and the woman’s body lies splayed out before us. “The husband moved her enough to let the EMTs in. I guess he was holding out hope, but the coroner thinks she was dead hours before the husband claims to have arrived.”

Claims.

I’m glad he’s still on the suspect list with the sheriff. He’s not getting off mine too easily.

Someone calls for the sheriff and he takes off.

Hale leans in. “I have one of our own taking footage of every person in the crowd.” He nods to the looky-loos gathering in droves. It’s a known fact that perpetrators like to come back and gawk with the peanut gallery. “The perp was caught on surveillance camera this time. They were clad in black, black ski mask, and gloves.”

“You just described the perpetrator from the kidnapping,” Jack says.

“I know.” Hale ticks his head wistfully. “Could be a coincidence, but we can’t rule out that it’s not. It is the attire of choice for criminals,” he muses. “And we have grainy footage of the getaway vehicle, a dark sedan bolted out of the track. So far none of the neighbors reported seeing anything out of the ordinary. No one heard any screaming either. At least not until the husband began to freak out. Hang tight, I’m going to speak with CSI.” He takes off and Nikki steps in.

“I’ve already amassed some info on our missing girl,” she says. “And since Robin was a well-known public figure, I’m going to have a lot to tease through here as well. I’m heading home to do just that. We’ll get together tomorrow.”

“Sounds good,” I say as she takes off. “Let’s get inside,” I say to Jack. “I want a better look at that body.”

“And I want to trace the killer’s steps,” he says as he leads the way and the coroner’s office lets us through the door.

Our victim is the first to greet us.

7

Special Agent Fallon Baxter

Robin Hansen lies with her mouth slightly opened, her forehead washed in blood right here in the foyer of her home in Cedar Grove. She’s wearing a black T-shirt and black yoga pants, and save for the small puddle of blood beneath her, you wouldn’t know she was stabbed. Her dark blonde hair is splayed around her, her right arm upturned, her left on her stomach. She looks about five-five, maybe a hundred and fifty, sixty pounds at most. A set of bloody footprints are smudged into the stone flooring, but they’re not well defined, smeared from end to end.

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