Page 35 of Once Marked
“Hand-made?”Beeler echoed, his frown deepening.
“Yes, and not by someone skilled.Look at these haphazard stitches, the way the fabric bunches.It’s like a rough draft, not a finished product.”
Riley pondered this, the implications sending a chill down her spine.If these suits were crafted by the killer for each victim, it meant a level of premeditation and personal involvement that they hadn’t considered before.
“My guess,” Ann Marie continued, her tone steady despite the grim nature of her deduction, “is that the killer took the measurements of the intended victims while they were still alive, then made these suits specifically for them.”She paused, her gaze lingering on the image.“But it turned out to be harder than the killer expected.The sloppy adjustments suggest the killer had trouble fitting the suits onto the bodies post-mortem and had to make some changes.”
“You’re certain of this?”Beeler asked.“That the suits are handmade?”
“Look here,” Ann Marie said, her voice steady as she pointed to a section of the swimsuit displayed on the tablet.“See this crooked seam?And here, the uneven stitching?And here, where you can see stitches were pulled out and then replaced a little differently?”
Riley edged closer, her gaze following Ann Marie’s slender finger as it traced the jagged lines on the image.It was a minute detail, one that might have been overlooked by a less discerning eye, but Ann Marie’s mortuary background had obviously honed her attention to the smallest of imperfections.The flaws were subtle, yet unmistakable—the kind of mistake a machine wouldn’t make, a sign that human hands were behind this grim puzzle piece.The thought sent a shiver down Riley’s spine, knowing those same hands had not stopped at sewing.
“Amateur at best,” Ann Marie commented, zooming out to reveal the full image before diving back into another compromised section of the swimsuit.“No commercial outlet would sell a suit with these kinds of defects.”
The proprietor of Tidal Beauties stepped closer, his eyes narrowing behind his glasses as he scrutinized the digital photograph from over Ann Marie’s shoulder.His nod was slow, almost reluctant, as if agreeing pained him professionally.
“She’s right,” Walsh murmured, a tinge of surprise undercut by a note of admiration for Ann Marie’s astuteness.“I’d never stock anything of this poor quality.”
Riley felt the shift in the room, the collective realization that they were dealing with something far more personal than a simple purchase.This swimsuit was a crafted message of death tailored by the killer’s own hands.The young agent’s finding had dropped into their midst like a stone into still water, sending ripples through most of what they thought they knew about the case.
Turning to Beeler, Ann Marie posed a question that now seemed crucial: “Sheriff, can you imagine Marcus Callahan operating a sewing machine under any circumstances?Or stitching up a seam by hand?”
The large man shifted uncomfortably, the weight of his authority seeming to press down upon him as he considered the incongruity of the image.But it wasn’t just the absurdity of the powerful Callahan delicately threading a needle; it was the realization that their investigation might have been chasing the wrong man while the true predator remained hidden.
“No, I can’t say that I can,” he admitted, his voice rough with reluctant acceptance.It was clear that even he couldn’t picture Callahan as the meticulous if clumsy crafter of the ill-fitted swimsuits.
“Then I think we can safely say that either Callahan is not our killer,” Ann Marie stated, her blue eyes alight with fervor.“Or someone else is working with him, someone who made these bathing suits for him and adjusted them after the murders.We need to rethink this case from the ground up.”
Riley nodded in silent agreement, her mind already racing through the implications.She thought that Ann Marie’s first suggestion was by far the most likely—that Callahan had nothing to do with these murders.Of course both she and Ann Marie had suspected as much.But Sheriff Beeler was accustomed to looking at the world through a lens colored by assumptions and preconceived notions that the killer had bought the vintage suits.Now, the landscape had changed, and they had other options to consider.They were back to square one—but this time, with a clearer vision.And what they had just learned also fit better with Riley’s sense that this killer might be a woman.
“Mr.Grant,” Riley asked, “do you know of anyone, male or female, who might have produced the bathing suits in those photos?”
“No, I sure don’t,” he replied.“I’ve never known anybody who makes their own swimsuits.Why would they bother to do that?”
“Thank you, Mr.Walsh,” Riley said, her voice steady despite the turmoil inside her.“Your help has been invaluable.”Walsh nodded, his own expression mirroring the seriousness of their undertaking.
“Please let us know if you think of any possibilities,” Riley added.
As the storekeeper gave them assurances, the investigators all headed for the door.
“Thank you for your time, Mr.Walsh,” Beeler said, closing his tablet with a soft click.
“Anytime, Sheriff,” Walsh responded, accompanying them to the door.“I hope you catch whoever’s doing this.”
As the investigators headed out the door, Riley paused at the threshold, casting a final glance back at the shop.Her eyes settled on a framed photograph near the exit, and something tugged at her awareness.It was of a smiling woman captured in time.The picture pulled at Riley’s attention.She stepped closer, her mind registering the high cheekbones and the confident cut of the woman’s hair.The face held the kind of smile that hinted at a life lived boldly and without regret.
She realized that her partner had stopped next to her.
“Ann Marie,” Riley said, her voice low, “do you see it?”
Ann Marie moved closer, peering over Riley’s shoulder.“I do...it’s uncanny.”
“Whoever did this,” Riley continued, her pulse quickening, “they’re not just killing.They’re recreating.”
“Or erasing,” Ann Marie added softly.
“Agents?You coming?”Beeler’s voice echoed, a bit muffled, from the shop entrance.
