Page 56 of Cold Threat

“Well, if it is, I’m not seeing it. I asked about checking pharmacies. As I suspected, they’re already doing that. As far as the glasses, Dad feels the same way we do. Not sure if it will help much. People can remove their glasses, and Angie didn’t mention them.” Tony couldn’t stifle a yawn.

“Do you want to call it off for tonight?” River asked. “You’re tired.”

“No, not yet, unless you do. Dad seems to have made some headway with his search on Wilson. I’d like to wait until he gets home and hear what he has to say.”

“Should we start revising our profile?”

Tony sighed. “Again?”

“Shouldn’t we adjust it to add the possibility of a team?”

Tony shook his head. “I meant what I said about not trusting Angie’s memory. I mean, what kind of ‘black spot’ would someone have on their face? And if our guy really had something like that, why not wear a ski mask to hide it? We’ve learned that he’s smart.”

“But if this was his first attempt, maybe he made a mistake. We think he’s in his forties or early fifties now. That means he was young when he killed the Wilsons. He could have learned as he progressed.”

“I don’t know,” Tony said. “Explain the twenty-year gap between the Wilsons and the first murders here.”

“I can’t,” River said. She pointed at a picture on the board. “He kills the Wilsons, Angie’s grandparents, then he kills Sheila Jackson, an older widow. What’s the connection?”

“Maybe he just hates old people.”

River looked at him and made a face. “Not helpful.”

“Well, it makes as much sense as anything else.”

“I know.”

Tony took his phone out again. “Checking the weather. I want to know when that next storm hits.”

“I thought it was supposed to start on Saturday.”

After clicking a few buttons on his phone, Tony felt his stomach tense. “I just want to be sure. Yep. Still predicted for Saturday. Starts early Saturday morning.”

“We don’t have much time.”

“I don’t know why we’re so worried. He’s always waited two years before striking again.”

“But he didn’t succeed with Sandra Cooper. She lived. The Salt River Strangler didn’t take it well when I survived. I’m assuming the Snowman feels the same way.” River stepped back from the corkboard. “My instinct tells me if he can’t get to Sandra, he may try to execute someone else. That’s if he has anyone else lined up. I don’t know, he’s so organized. Maybe he will wait.”

Tony walked over to one of the chairs and sat down. He rubbed the back of his neck, which felt as tense as his stomach did. “I don’t know if it’s just frustration, or because of Sandra ... or if the Holy Spirit is warning me that the Snowman has selected a new victim. But I feel like you’re right. It’s like some kind of loud bell ringing in my ears. He wants to save face.”

“I thought wisdom from God is peaceful,” River said.

“Yeah, you’re right. Unfortunately, our reactions to it aren’t always correct.” Tony sucked in a deep breath and began to let it out slowly, trying to calm his nerves. “I’ve got to put this in God’s hands. It’s just...”

“It’s just that Burlington is preparing for Christmas,” River said softly. “Families are decorating their trees and putting up beloved decorations. Somewhere there’s a family that has no idea that this will be the worst Christmas of their lives unless we can stop the Snowman before he strikes again.”

Tony gazed at her for a moment, marveling at her intelligence and incredible insight. They’d worked together for so long it was like they were married. His mind suddenly clicked back to that night on the banks of the Salt River. The horror he felt as he watched the Strangler hit her, tie her up, put her into an old trunk, and pull it over to the side of the river. Tony had tried to stop him. Even after being shot four times, he’d crawled toward her, wanting nothing more than to keep her alive. But before he could reach her, he’d passed out. He would have gladly died to protect her. What kind of relationship did they have? He felt closer to River than he did his own sister. What did that mean? Did she ever wonder about him? About how he felt?

He cleared his throat and considered the question she’d just posed. “I’m just not sure we have enough information to really help my father,” he said. “We can give him an idea as to what this guy’s thinking. We can even tell him why we believe someone else is on his radar, but we can’t tell him why he’s killing, and weboth know that without that information, it’s almost impossible to find him.”

River pursed her lips and crossed her arms, behaviors she exhibited when she was thinking. “Well, we’re pretty sure he’s reacting to something in his childhood. Something that happened at Christmas.”

“That’s true, but how are these people related to him? The police looked carefully at each victim and didn’t find anything to explain what’s behind these deaths.”

“Well, there’s still Edward Wilson,” River said. “Maybe your dad will find something useful.”

“I hope so.”

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