Page 42 of Criminology of a Character

“Hmmm.” Olivia’s exhausted smile was more grimace than grin as her gaze snagged on something across the station. Bel followed her line of sight and found Violet and Deputy Rollo chatting in the room’s corner, and by the way her friend nervously tucked her black hair behind her ears, Bel understoodher partner’s sudden interest in the secluded conversation. It seemed her matchmaking was going to plan.

“There’s Ewan.” Olivia stood up, forgetting about the flirting duo. “I’ll be right back. I’m going to ask him to bring me a change of clothes. I still feel that freezer on me.”

“That’s smart,” Bel said as her partner sought out her boyfriend’s comfort. She didn’t know how long they’d be stuck at the station, and she didn’t relish the idea of solving this case wearing the same pair of underwear for days on end. She’d text Eamon after she ate the chocolate croissant Violet had bought specifically for her. Her friend knew she had a special place in her heart for The Espresso Shot’s famous croissants, but the moment the flaky pastry touched her lips, a horrifying thought smacked her.

“What happened?” Olivia asked when she returned.

“Violet brought me a chocolate croissant,” Bel answered.

“Okay?” Olivia gawked at her. “Maybe you should take a nap at your desk like I did. You aren’t making sense.”

“Violet and Ewan brought the entire station food, which I’m assuming was Ewan’s idea since he didn’t want you hungry… although after seeing Violet with Rollo, I wonder if she orchestrated it.”

“I told you they would make a cute couple, but you’re still confusing me.”

“The pastries are The Espresso Shot’s basics. Muffins, scones, donuts. But chocolate croissants are specialty items, and she only brought one for me, since she knows I love them.”

“Okay?” Olivia looked so confused that Bel felt bad for trying to make a point while they were exhausted.

“She ordered me something specific because she knows me,” Bel explained. “She always sees me at The Espresso Shot, so she’s memorized my order. I have a list of which restaurants prepare the best vegetarian meals. We know thesethings because we live in Bajka. We spend time together, and by doing so, we’ve learned important information about each other.I think our killer lives in Bajka, because how else would he discover Walker owned his land outright or that his property bordered a secluded road? How could he predict no one would notice Walker’s disappearance? How would he know which bills to pay or that automatic lights would fool an entire town into believing Walker was alive and not shriveling in the farmhouse walls? An outsider wouldn’t know these things. When I assumed Walker was killed because of a drug operation, it made sense that the murderer was a stranger, someone using our town to lie low as they distributed their product. The cartel’s reach is wide, and they’d have the manpower and knowledge to keep us in the dark, but a single serial killer wouldn’t have the same resources. I could be wrong, but I think The Matchstick Girl Killer is someone we see daily.”

“I don’t want to believe that,” Olivia said. “It makes sense, but I don’t want to think that someone we pass every week in the grocery store was freezing girls to death. How could we walk by him and wave? I want it to be a stranger. Someone we don’t stand in line for coffee with.” She put her cup down as if she were no longer thirsty.

“I know,” Bel said, images of Abel ordering oatmeal at The Espresso Shot flooding her memory. How many times had she greeted him without realizing he was capable of murder?

“We have to figure this out,” Olivia said, her small voice practically begging. “I realize what Abel did to you was worse, but he took me too. I barely remember it, and I still needed therapy to deal with the emotions, but he didn’t put me in a freezer with dozens of other dead girls for me to stare at as I froze to death. We can’t let this man get away with this.”

“We won’t,” Bel said. “Law enforcement officers aren’t supposed to promise success, but it’s just us, so I’ll forgoprotocol. I have five sisters, and I couldn’t help but see their faces last night because while those victims weren’t my family, they were someone’s. Daughters, sisters, friends. Forty-two families lost a piece of themselves, so I’m going to remain at this station for as long as it takes to hunt him down.”

“Olivia,”Bel said as she entered the breakroom. “It’s Lina. She has something for us.” She removed her cell from her ear and tapped the speaker button as she leaned against the counter where her partner was fixing a cup of coffee. Not a single officer had gone home yet, everyone taking turns napping on the few station couches to keep the exhaustion at bay. Bel’s veins were more caffeine than blood, and both she and Olivia were experts in utilizing the bathroom sinks as their personal showers. Griffin, who was always the first to send his detectives and officers home when they exceeded their limits, refused to leave his office, and if the commander-in-chief remained at his desk, so would the troops. As long as the sheriff lived within the station walls, so did everyone else. This case was a once-in-a-lifetime horror, and every Bajka police officer understood the unspoken agreement. They would not rest until those forty-two women found peace.

“Okay, I found her,” Bel said to the M.E.

“Thanks,” Lina said. “I can’t say definitively since we’ve only just started the autopsies, but I rushed the toxicology on the few we performed.”

The detectives had visited the morgue earlier to collect the first autopsies’ evidence, and so far, they’d found nothing surprising. The Matchstick Girls were healthy, the cause of death hypothermia, and none of them had so much as particles of dustunder their nails. They hadn’t fought their attacker, nor had they resisted their deaths, and the lack of injuries on their persons inspired Lina to run a tox screening.

“I’ll need to check every Jane Doe to confirm, but so far, the victim I tested came back positive for traces of Rohypnol.”

“They were roofied?” Olivia asked, her face souring at the word. “They weren’t…”

“Sexually assaulted?” Lina finished for her. “No. It appears he drugged them to keep them compliant when he moved them to the freezer. It seems he timed the murders so that the drug wore off once they were locked inside. They would’ve been groggy, but they were aware enough to understand their situation. I suspect he placed the matches in their hands. Otherwise, how did they find them?”

Her voice fell silent, but neither detective spoke as the medical examiner’s words settled cold against their bones.

“Did I lose you?” Lina asked.

“No, we’re here,” Olivia said.

“It explains why the freezer door was clean and undamaged,” Bel said, recalling the view of those depressing walls. “Any capable person would have tried to escape. They would’ve had marks on their hands from beating on the door. They also might have used the other dead girls to survive…” she trailed off, not wanting to dwell too long on that horrifying idea. “Someone fully conscious would’ve stripped the bodies for clothes or burned the unused shoes for light and warmth. At least one of those forty-two women should’ve fought back, yet they all sat there and burned their matches until they became one of his frozen statues. He didn’t want a mess or conflict. He didn’t want to see them struggle. He just wanted to watch them die.”

“I hope the Rohypnol dulled the end,” Olivia said.

“I like to think it did,” Lina said. “I’m running the DNA and prints of the girls we autopsied. I’m hoping we get some hits sowe can start identifying these Jane Does. I’ll call back if we get any matches.”

“Thank you,” the detectives said in unison.

“I don’t want this now.” Olivia shoved the coffee away. “I don’t feel good. Part is lack of sleep and proper food, but I hate this case. I hate we didn’t find that freezer sooner.”

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