Page 36 of Already Lost

“Thanks,” Laura said, absent-mindedly,already taking them from his hands and beginning to spread them out in front ofherself on the floor. She stood above them, looking down, getting a fullpicture of each of the scenes.

She frowned, crouching next to the finalset of images, and Nate joined her.

“Here,” she said, pointing to thephotograph of Tessa Patinson lying on her back. “Does that look like a man’sjacket to you?”

Nate studied it for a moment. “Yes, I’dsay so. Looks like a partner slipped it around her when she was cold. But thenagain, maybe she just likes the boxy cut.”

“It’s a man’s jacket.” Laura hadconviction now. “Here, Jenna Janes – she had red hair.”

“Right,” Nate said. He sounded like hewondered where she was going with this, but he would let her get there.

“And here,” Laura added, pointing at thesecond victim – Dakota Henson. “That headband she’s wearing. It looks like arose, doesn’t it?”

Nate shrugged. “I’m not a flower expert,but sure.”

Laura’s heart was racing in her chest.

This was it.

“Oh, Jesus,” she said, staring down atthese woman and shaking her head in horror.

“What?” Nate asked, on instant alert.

“I know how he’s choosing them,” she said.She covered her mouth for a moment, the full implications setting in. Of howunlucky these women had been. How something so innocent had lost them theirlives. “They represent the lyrics of the song.”

“Are you sure?” Nate asked, scrambling tolook at her notes and compare them to the photographs.

Laura no longer needed the notes. She hadread them enough times that for the short term, at least, she had themmemorized. “Listen. ‘She came along, with a rose in her hair, Pretty and young,with a smile like sunshine.’ Pretty and young could be all of them, and if theywere smiling while they walked along the road, that’s it. Anything could havemade them smile. A message from a friend. Seeing a cute dog. Who knows what –even just smiling at a stranger. And Dakota Henson was wearing a rose in herhair.”

“And then Jenna Janes is the next verse,”Nate said, catching on as he read it out from her notebook. “’ Red hair thatreached almost down to the floor’. Though I don’t know if she’s from Kentucky.”

“She wouldn’t need to be – I think he’sdoing this visually,” Laura said. “He sees someone on the side of the road,walking down the street, who looks like she belongs in the song. Then he justtakes her, then and there. That’s why he’s so bold. He must set his scene upfirst and then go out looking for someone. He doesn’t want to miss his chance,so he doesn’t wait for safety. He’s not stalking them or planning where andwhen to take them – this is why we couldn’t figure out if it was opportunisticor if there was a link between the victims. It’s both.”

“The last one is the jacket,” Nate said,still reading. “’It was late at night when I saw them both, Leaving that barwith his jacket on her.’ He saw Tessa Patinson walking out of a bar late atnight wearing a man’s jacket and he decided she was next.”

“That’s all the descriptions,” Laura said.“The rest – it’s about the couple being in love, not describing the woman whostole the man. Does that mean he’s done?”

Nate raised his eyebrows. “Would make ourjobs a hell of a lot easier if he is.”

“A bit less time-sensitive, maybe,” Laurasaid. “I don’t know about easier. And we can’t exactly start acting like he’sdone just in case he isn’t. He might be about to move onto another song.”

“Well, the singer only had the one song,”Nate said.

“Right, but she had no emotionalconnection to it, remember?” Laura said. It was her turn to raise her eyebrowsat him. “But you know who would have?”

“The songwriter?” Nate replied, and Laurahad never been happier to find the two of them singing the same tune.

“So, let’s find out who that was and whatelse they wrote – and who might want to get revenge on their behalf today,”Laura said, feeling at last like they had a shot of bringing this killer down.

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

There was a certain amount of ritualinvolved in setting up a new spot. It wasn’t intentional, really, but it hadhappened on the first one and since then he’d found himself repeating the samesteps. Like it was luck. If he managed to get away with it the first time, thenhe had to carry on doing the same thing to avoid being caught every time afterthat.

And it was imperative he didn’t getcaught. After all, he had to save his work. He had to do this for hisgrandmother. It was his responsibility now, and if he let her down, he wasnever going to forgive himself.

It started with the case. The sun wasdipping below the horizon as he climbed the stairs to the attic, where hecarefully removed the case from one of the storage boxes stacked up at the sideof the room. Then, he walked up to the gramophone he had chosen earlier and satin front of it, contemplating it for a moment. He picked it up carefully andpacked it into the case where it would be safe, making sure that it was doneslowly and with love so that the antique device would not be damaged orjostled. The last step was to find the record, taking it out of the displaycase he’d set up with all of them, and to place it inside with the gramophone.

The rope, the method he had chosen forending them, and the bottle with the rag went into his own bag – nowhere nearthe delicate and important parts of this. He was too late into the game now torisk damaging something and having the record not be able to play.

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