Page 16 of Be Very Quiet

Torres nodded as if he was expecting the answer.

Luca grabbed a baseball cap in case Liliana opened her door and followed the detective to the lobby. Warren didn’t hide his curiosity, watching them with a smirk. Torres would’ve had to show his badge to be let inside. Warren probably thought this was a perp walk, and Luca was about to be taken to the police station to be questioned.

Torres had parked in a restricted area using an official police permit. Luca climbed inside the department-issued sedan. Torres removed the placard from the dash and drove to a restaurant that wouldn’t garner a second look from most people. The building was rundown, but the parking lot was packed—the sign of a favorite for locals. Torres found a spot, and they entered the rowdy establishment. Rock music belted at ear-splitting levels from a jukebox, and the din of conversation was loud as they navigated to a recently abandoned booth in a corner.

A server handed them menus and took their drink orders. When she returned with their glasses, Luca followed the detective’s recommendation and chose the seafood platter.

After placing their orders, Torres studied Luca. “You came to Miami Beach because of this murder?”

“I’m visiting a friend and heard about it,” Luca hedged. He wasn’t about to bring Liliana up to the cop. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust him, but he wasn’t taking chances. It was already too coincidental that the murder had occurred close to where she lived now. Information had a way of leaking out, and if the media got wind of someone who had encountered the killer before living nearby, they’d run with it. Plus, if it was Rader, he didn’t want the man to know she was close, though more than likely, he already did. Why else would he have chosen this as his killing ground?

If it was Rader, Luca had no doubt the FBI would become involved again. They’d stuck their nose into the investigation in Minnesota. They tended to be territorial, closed-mouthed, and hard to work with. He’d dealt with several agents over the years and had learned how to coexist. Some he’d even call friends, like Cayleigh Copeland. She was tough, fair, and hard-working. She was also now a coworker at COBRA Securities. Luke and Logan had seen the potential in her, having crossed paths with the former FBI agent and him during the Quinn Billings operation.

“Tell me about your similar situation,” Torres prompted.

Luca recalled the details of the crimes, starting with Rader’s first seven kills and ending with Erin Simon’s death.

“You caught him in the act?”

“Yes. A woman came home and found him killing her roommate. She managed to call the police before he grabbed her.” He told Torres how he and his partner had returned fire, including one bullet that tagged Rader in the face.

“He never showed up anywhere,” Torres said. “No hospitals or morgues?”

“No, and we searched for months.”

“I looked up the case after getting your text, and while there are similarities, there are differences too.”

“Rader drained their blood, sewed their eyes and lips shut, and then applied heavy makeup,” Luca told him. “We kept the information about the eyes and lips out of the news.”

“What about the victims? Was there a pattern?”

“They were all pretty coeds from wealthy families or successful businesswomen. He didn’t seem to have a type. He crossed race and ethnicity lines.”

The server arrived with their orders and placed them on the table. After asking if they needed anything else, she left.

Torres picked up a crab leg and snapped it. “Our vic wasn’t a college student. She was a prostitute.”

Luca’s brows lifted. He’d come to the same conclusion from looking at the crime scene photos, but that was a significant deviation. “The FBI profiler surmised Rader studied the victims for at least a few days before he attacked. A prostitute seems like a quick grab.”

“It does. And while our victim was exsanguinated and had makeup applied, the eyes and lips weren’t sewn shut.”

“Maybe we’re dealing with a copycat,” Luca suggested as he picked up an oyster.

“It looks like it might be one,” Torres concurred. “What about any foreign objects on the body?”

Luca shook his head. “There were never any. He was fastidious, almost fussy. Everything had to be just so when he finished with the victim.”

“We found one on our vic. There was a flower in her hand. A lily.”

The oyster slid down Luca’s throat and wedged sideways into his esophagus. He hacked and fought for breath, fearing Torres would need to perform the Heimlich Maneuver before it dislodged and he could inhale again.

Torres had risen from his seat. “You okay?”

Thankfully, the oyster slid the rest of the way down. Luca held up a hand and took a drink of water. “Sorry. Swallowed wrong.” His heartbeat pounded in his ears, and the seafood he’d eaten sat like a gooey, gelatinous lump in his belly. That flower wasn’t a coincidence. How had he missed that detail in the report?

Torres was quiet—too quiet. Luca looked up to see the detective studying him with narrowed eyes. “What?”

“You tell me.”

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