Page 47 of Criminology of a Character

“Are we sitting in on today’s autopsy?” Bel asked.

“You can, but that’s not why I called you here,” she answered. “I identified a few of our Jane Does.”

“That’s great,” Bel said, following Lina into the cold storage.

“This is Carla Vans.” Lina pointed at the first body with an uncovered face. “She was twenty-three when she went missing four years ago, and by her features, I guess that’s when she died.”

“She’s practically a baby,” Olivia said. She was the same age as Bel, and while both detectives were young, looking at women a decade their junior showed how much they’d matured.

“It makes me so angry,” Lina said. “These girls had rough lives, and they never got the chance to see the good in this world. Victoria Scotts was abused by her father. Carla Vans worked as a prostitute. One of the other street girls reported her disappearance, but the police never looked into it. She was a runaway working girl. They assumed she’d either moved on from the life or gotten involved with a client.

“Then this is Twyla Gates. She went missing eight years ago at the age of twenty-eight. She lived alone in a trailer park, and when she stopped showing up for her shift at the local grocery store, her boss reported her missing. It took him a week to report her disappearance, though, so by the time the police looked into her, they found nothing that suggested foul play. Without a body or evidence, they assumed she left town.

“And lastly this is Daphne Keating.” Lina moved down the line to the final uncovered girl. “Six years ago, she ran away from home at seventeen. Her parents filed a missing persons since she was a minor, but by the time the police located her, she’d turned eighteen. As a legal adult, they couldn’t force her to go home.Her parents never saw her again, but it’s impossible to pinpoint when the Matchstick Killer took her. The freezing preserved everyone, so I can’t say when she died.”

“It seems our theory was right,” Bel said, the knot in her gut back with a vengeance. “He doesn’t target women based on physical features, but on their vulnerability. He wants girls no one will miss.”

“I sent their IDs along with the police reports to the stations where they were filed so they can close the cases,” Lina said. “They’ll deliver the death notices, but unfortunately, many of these girls will go unidentified. Some will have missing persons reports or criminal records, but a few will go to their graves unnamed.” She paused to collect herself. “I’ve never autopsied someone we never named. In some cases, it took time to learn their identities, but I’ve never had to operate on so many Jane Does, knowing most would stay that way.”

“I shouldn’t say this as an officer of the law, but arresting this guy isn’t enough,” Olivia said, and Eamon’s promise slipped to the forefront of Bel’s memory. All she would have to do was give him a name, and The Matchstick Killer would understand the fear he’d inflicted on his victims.

“We’ve all had a version of that thought,” Lina said. “Identifying the Jane Does is important, but I wish I had something useful for you. With every examination, I pray I’ll find evidence that points us to the killer, but these girls are clean. Rohypnol acts quickly and can even cause blackouts. I doubt they realized they’d been taken, and he would’ve had plenty of time to clean them.”

“I’m sure he wore gloves and protective gear too,” Bel said. “Those are easy to come by.”

“As is Rohypnol,” Lina said. “None of our discoveries are exactly damning.”

“But you aren’t done with the autopsies yet,” Bel said. “All it takes is one mistake. One slip-up. One hair that shouldn’t be there, and we’ll find him.”

“Sheriff,is the disappearance of Sarah Bristol connected to these murders?” a reporter asked when Griffin opened the press conference floor for questions.

“Our hearts go out to the Bristol family, but no, Sarah wasn’t one of the women found on the Walker property,” Griffin answered.

“Do you have any suspects?” another reporter asked.

“We are following every lead, but we cannot comment on the specifics of an ongoing investigation.”

“Both of your detectives were recently kidnapping victims,” a third said, and Bel recoiled as the cameras honed in on her. “Are they equipped to handle the demands of a case of this magnitude?”

Griffin bristled like an insulted father, and worried he'd defend her with an anger the news would twist ugly, Bel slipped closer to her boss. He noticed her movement, as did the press, but her eyes were enough to reign in his response.

“My detectives are the finest this country has to offer,” Griffin said, the professionalism barely masking his annoyance. “The Bajka Police Department takes care of its own, and we’ve taken every step necessary to provide our officers with the best care and support. Detectives Isobel Emerson and Olivia Gold are not only qualified for this investigation, but they are essential. That’s all the questions we have time for. Thank you for coming.”

The sheriff turned on his heels, shielding Bel with his body as a cameraman practically lunged for her, and together, they pushed their way back into the station.

“I’m sorry,” Griffin said. “I didn’t realize they would target you with their questioning.”

“It’s okay,” Bel said, thankful that Olivia had stepped out of the press conference to take a call.

“It’s not. You are important to this town. You don’t deserve to have your name dragged by some self-inflated man with a camera.”

“Have I ever told you I love you?” she asked.

“Um… no.” He pinched his eyebrows at her. “I don’t think so.”

“Well, I do.” She kissed his cheek, and he patted her back affectionately, fully comfortable with the fact that his detectives viewed him as their second dad.

“Do you need me for anything?” she asked. “I need lunch if I’m going to survive the paperwork on my desk.”

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