Page 84 of Flashback

“Your observations about Anna Robinson’s murder scene made a lot of sense to us, especially the idea that her body had been refrigerated in an ancient industrial cooler near the waterfront. We started combing all the bayfront neighborhoods and checking out the old buildings. We’ve probably been to every former fish processing plant in the city. Somebody eventually found this place.”

Lynch stepped back to look at the faded sign. “What was it?”

“Small-scale meat processing. A wholesale butcher that used to serve a lot of the downtown restaurants. They have a working built-in freezer, and one of our detectives noticed that the refrigeration exhaust system was engaged, even though the building had been abandoned for a while. We got permission from the owner to conduct a search, and we found the victim inside. Everything tracks with the Bayside Strangler’s victims. The ligature marks on her throat, hand and feet bindings, everything. Want to see her?”

Hell no, Kendra wanted to say. Even though it was the entire reason she had come. But she knew she had to go inside, for Chloe, Sloane, and whomever else this monster might victimize.

“Yes,” she finally replied. “Let’s do this.”

They entered the building, and there was little immediate evidence of the structure’s former use. There were no fixtures, shelves, or counters, and the entire first floor was basically one large concrete slab. Large windows ran the length of the building, mostly painted black except for a foot or so on top of each pane.

Perry motioned for Kendra and Lynch to follow him down a short hallway on the right, which was crowded with a dozen law-enforcement personnel. They entered the large walk-in cooler, which measured perhaps ten by fourteen feet. Inside, it was difficult to hear anything but the roar of the refrigeration unit and fans. It was frigid in there, of course, even with the door propped open by an empty plastic crate. The unit was empty except for a few rusty metal racks.

And, of course, the body of a beautiful young woman.

“Who is she?” Kendra asked, trying to keep her composure.

Perry checked his phone’s notes app. “Her name’s Lanie Campbell. She went missing two days ago while running in the Golden Hill neighborhood near Balboa Park. She was twenty-six years old. She leaves behind a husband and a baby girl.”

Kendra wanted to turn away, but she couldn’t take her eyes off Lanie Campbell, with her long blond hair and beautifully sculpted cheekbones. She wore formfitting athletic clothes and running shoes. Her throat displayed the same patterned bruising as victims going back fifteen years, and as Griffin had said, the corpse was bound by the distinctive restraints that had become the killer’s trademark.

Kendra stepped closer. There was a gold locket around the corpse’s neck, and she wondered if it held a picture of her infant daughter or her husband. Maybe both, Kendra thought, as the sick feeling rose in her stomach.

She turned away. “I’ve seen enough.”

Lynch grabbed her arm and steered her through the group of FBI forensics techs who were just entering the cooler. Once they had cleared the crush of investigators in the hallway outside, Kendra leaned back against the wall.

“Tough one,” Lynch said.

“They’re all tough, but… yeah.”

Perry finally made his way through the crowd and stood next to Kendra. After a long moment of silence, he leaned against the wall next to her. “When I started out in this job, I hated having to pretend like it didn’t bother me to see things like that. But I have to tell you… what I hated even more is when I realized I wasn’t so bothered by it anymore. Hang on to that feeling, Dr. Michaels.”

She managed a smile. “I don’t think I have much choice.”

“Good. Listen, we have the building owner outside. He met the guy who rented this place. Wanna go talk to him with me?”

“Sure.”

Lynch’s phone vibrated in his pocket, and he pulled it out and glanced at the screen. “You two go ahead. I’ve been waiting for this text.”

Kendra and Perry stepped out onto the front sidewalk, where a uniformed officer was standing with a rotund man in a floral-print shirt. Perry thanked the officer and turned to the man. “You’re Frank Gorham?”

“That’s me!”

Kendra was surprised. Gorham seemed far too chipper for someone who’d just had a corpse found on his property.

“I understand you just rented this place out last month. Can you tell us how that happened?” Perry asked.

Gorham shrugged. “How it always happens, I guess. Someone gives me money, and they move in. This place belonged to my grandfather. It was a wholesale butcher shop for, like, thirty years. After he closed it, he didn’t have any luck renting this building out, and neither have I. I don’t want to sell right now, because this neighborhood is changing. I figure if I wait a few years, I might be able to get a lot more. Anyway, someone saw the FOR LEASE sign and called me. We met the next day.”

“What did he say he wanted it for?” Kendra said.

“He planned to start a delivery kitchen, and he thought this place might be good for that. He said he’d pay five thousand dollars a month until he got it up and running, then it would go up from there.”

“What did he look like?” Kendra asked.

“Longish dark hair, beard, horn-rimmed glasses. He seemed like a cool guy.”

---