Page 29 of Crash and Burn

Sebastian would have liked to believe that at least this stash was the work of one of the two criminals and the box was the other. Unfortunately, he couldn’t delude himself. Pieces from both serial cases had been found in the jewelry box. He wondered what the chances were that the feds would find evidence linking both from this set of jewelry.

As the flash went off behind him, he moved to the side and tried to reason his way through what they’d found.

He wasn't a detective, nor an agent, but he did know a little something. He understood that criminals changed their M.O. as they evolved over time. It made sense to him that the La Vista Rapist might become the Blue River Killer, but the timelines didn’t work. The Rapist started up after the murders had. And the Blue River Killer didn't sexually assault his victims.

Given his own limited knowledge, Sebastian was relatively confident that they were two different people. Which meant they were working together. There was no way for this jewelry to be good news unless it was just a glut of evidence … enough to catch the men responsible.

Maggie's flash glinted off something as she moved from side to side. Sebastian held his hand up. “Hold on.”

“Don't touch it,” she told him, reiterating his own earlier warning.

He wanted to grin. But there was no grinning as he stuck his head closer to the hole and looked down into the floor. Reaching into his back pocket for his own phone, he aimed the light downward.

“There are photographs in the bottom.”

“What?”Maggie said, leaning forward, the two of them trying to share the small closet space.

As much as he enjoyed being up close and personal with Maggie, being shoved together over sick crime scene trophies didn’t qualify. He caught a better glimpse and warned her. “Don't look. Just hand me a phone to take pictures.”

He’d only caught a glimpse of the images, but it was enough to turn his stomach. Sitting back on his heels, he asked Maggie if she had enough photos.

Then he set the board back in front of the jewelry, not pushing it back into place, but covering the hole.

“We'll have to walk the FBI through the house and tell them the various things we found,” Maggie said, as a matter of course. “And we now have to confess that we were documenting everything before they came. Because if we had known about this before they arrived and didn’t tell them …? I don’t know how to explain that. And I won’t hold up under a polygraph.”

He nodded but swallowed hard, his thoughts running in a different direction.

Initially, he'd been disturbed by Kalan’s comment that it might be a serial killer. Kalan was a smart guy, but he was also constantly watching Forensic Files at the station house. So it had been very easy to believe that he was simply overshooting. Now, Sebastian was relatively confident that Kalan—though joking—maybe subconsciously recognized something about the jewelry box.

When they’d done everything they could with the new find, they headed through the rest of the rooms, luckily not finding more. If there was anything else, he was content to let the feds deal with it.

“It looks like whoever it was, was staying in that room.”

“Why leave it behind, though?” Maggie asked. “Why not take it with him?”

Sebastian shrugged. He had no good answers for that.

Every room was now cataloged and Maggie looked dead on her feet. He tried again to convince her to sleep the remaining few hours.

“I don't think I can sleep,” she said. “And I can’t even take any medication, because the FBI could be back at any time.”

“We still have almost four more hours,” he said. It had only taken a few to go through the house. They’d gotten very fast at snapping pictures.

“That's if they honor my wishes,” Maggie reminded him.

“Then it's all the more important that we get you whatever sleep we can now.”

Though she nodded in agreement, she was still protesting. “I’m too dirty to lay down on the bed.”

They had gotten a bit dusty in their searches. Many of the rooms hadn't been cleaned and some of the renters had vacated as long as a year or so ago, maybe more.

“We need to change,” he agreed, looking at the dirt scuffs on his knees. There would be little doubt what he’d been doing. “If the FBI shows up and we're filthy, they'll figure us out.”

“It’s not illegal,” Maggie told him. “It’s my house.”

“I know, but it seems like poor form.”

“Do you have another change of clothing?”

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