Page 36 of Girl Between
“That I did.” He smirked. “So transnasal craniotomy, huh?”
Dana nodded. “It’s an old technique, but effective. It was actually still practiced in Europe until the twentieth century. I think you’ll find it was used on your victim, prior to the draining of her blood.”
“You know who else drains victims of blood?” another officer teased. “Vampires,” he said, voice laced with sarcasm as he made the sign of the cross.
Dana ignored the jab, refocusing on the mask she still held. As expected, she saw it was a fake. “Is this the same kind of mask you found on the other victim?” she asked.
George nodded.
“Then I’m not sure I can be of much assistance.”
“Why’s that?” he asked.
“This mask is a reproduction, and therefore has no relation to anything historically vampiric, or my field of study.” She flipped it over in her hands to show the tiny numbers on the back. “These are lot numbers. This mask was machine-made, then an artist added hand painted details overtop to make it look more authentic. The real ones were handmade from paper and gesso, and signed by the artists. Lot numbers weren’t introduced until machines started to churn them out at a faster rate. This is a good dupe, probably pricey, but still not the real thing.”
“Why go through the trouble to put an expensive mask on her?” Neville asked.
“Maybe she was already wearing it,” LaSalle offered. “Look at theway she’s dressed. The Casquette Girl festival was a few days ago. Mask could’ve been part of her costume.”
“Seems more likely our killer has an infatuation with New Orleans’s folklore,” argued Neville.
“The last victim was dressed like this?” asked Dana.
“Identically,” George confirmed.
Dana pondered that for a moment. “Could the unsub have snatched both women from the Casquette Girl festival?”
“And what?” LaSalle pushed. “Killed one right away and decided to keep this one captive for a few days?”
Neville exhaled. “If that’s the case, there’s no telling how many more masked corpses to expect.”
“Speculation isn’t going to get us anywhere,” George interrupted. “I want this scene secured and scoured. Neville, get me the cemetery’s surveillance tapes and all the footage from the street cams in the surrounding area. Whoever’s doing this is bringing the bodies into the cemetery somehow.”
George turned to LaSalle. “I want a list of anyone who has access. Groundskeepers, tour guides, funeral homes. Cross-reference it with the list of those with access to St. Louis No. 1. Flag anyone who shows up on both. I want to speak to each one personally.”
“On it,” the ambitious officer said, striding off to get started as George waved over the crime scene techs, signaling it was time to begin the tedious task of cataloging the scene.
Dana wasn’t eager to witness the intrusive process. She’d seen enough evidence markers to last a lifetime.
35
“Hello?”
Jake was unprepared to hear Dana’s voice on the other end of the phone. He’d taken her recent radio silence as punishment for sending Flynn to check on her. He knew she’d be pissed, and he knew better than to do it again, but it didn’t stop him from worrying.
With each unanswered text his unease grew. The tinyseennotification next to his unreciprocated messages offered a modicum of comfort, but Jake needed more.
The silence between them was threatening to become a chasm, stretching wider each passing day. Unwilling to let it become a void he’d be unable to cross, he’d picked up the phone to call.
He’d planned to leave his rehearsed message on her voicemail, but his mind went blank the moment Dana’s voice greeted him.
“Hello?” she asked again. “Jake? Can you hear me?”
“I’m here,” he said, pausing to clear the sudden tightness in his throat. “I wasn’t expecting you to answer.”
“Is everything okay?”
“Yeah.”
