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Oh wow, that should not be hot. Should not make me all tingly and heat spike in my veins.

Think about the case, Rain, not how hot a fist-fighting Slade was back in the day.

“I get what you’re saying, and I agree to a point, but what if the unsub is like me?” Both men focused their attention on me. “I don’t mind the mess or care about blood on my hands or clothes.” I twirled a dark lock of hair around my index finger. “If they didn’t want to bother with getting the blood spray, which they were absolutely covered in, out of their clothes,the easiest solution would be to toss everything after.”

Jameson’s eyes widened. “That’s brilliant, Rain.” Grabbing a file folder off the desk, he flipped it open and thumbed through the pages. “Maybe the unsub stripped off the bloody clothes as they left the crime scene. Did you have any officers go through trash cans in the neighborhood?”

“The neighbors’, yes, but not a wide radius.” Slade pulled out his phone, thumbs flying across the screen. “I’ll have a few officers head over to yesterday’s victim’s neighborhood and do a deeper dive. Hopefully, trash day wasn’t yesterday or today.”

While the two dug deeper into this new theory, I pulled up the pictures of all five victims’ torsos to compare side by side. The number of stab wounds didn’t change with each victim, just the wound pattern and accuracy. The unsub used a different type of knife, which was why we originally didn’t connect the cases. It wasn’t until victim number four that I linked them. Four young male victims with excessive postmortem trauma were like a blinking light saying “Hello, dumbass, these are connected.”

“Let’s talk about what we know for now. Let’s start with the bodies. Rain.” Jameson inclined his head my way, giving me the floor.

Shifting in my seat, I sat up straighter and cleared my throat. “All five victims were young, decently healthy single males. COD was exsanguination. The type of knife used varied with each victim. And like I said yesterday, the precision of the wounds was night and day from victim number one to the one yesterday. It took a while for victim number five to bleed out, whereas victim number one was stabbed almost directly in the heart. He bled out quickly.”

“The unsub is evolving, perfecting their methods to ensure he or she gets what they want out of the kill.” Jameson motioned to victim number one with the file folder. “Ten months ago, victim number one was found in an alley beside a dive bar he frequented. His alcohol level was twice the legal limit.”

Slade stood and walked over to the desk, pushing aside a few files before plucking one off and snapping it open. “No one saw him leave with anyone, and he’d normally walk the couple of blocks back to his apartment after too many drinks.”

“Victim number four, who was found beside his car in the parking lot of a bar, had the most traumatic head wound.” Using two fingers, I zoomed in on the picture I took during the autopsy. “Which makes sense, since he was the biggest of the victims. Our unsub was probably concerned about being overpowered. Based on the positioning, the blow came from behind, and a round pipe or bat was used. I assume it was a complete surprise, which brought him to the asphalt based on the trace material I found in a few scrapes on his palms and knees. The stab wounds were inflicted while he lay prone based on the blood pattern on the victim’s clothing.”

Slade paced from one side of my office to the other, rubbing at his jaw. “The way the unsub kills has stayed the same. Why not a gun? If he or she can’t overpower these men, why not just shoot them?”

“Sound?” Jameson mused, tapping the edge of the file in his hand against his palm as he stared at the pictures. “You mentioned that before. The homes and businesses are close together, so a gunshot would almost guarantee cops and increase the likelihood of being caught.”

“And ballistics,” I added. Slade paused his pacing to stare down at me. “What?” I jerked my eyes around the room, uncomfortable under his intense scrutiny.

“You sure you don’t want to give up your day job and become a detective? Because you’d be damn good at it.” I slouched back, relieved I hadn’t said something dumb, as Slade continued. “The good doc is right. We would’ve tied the cases together immediately if the same gun was used instead of different knives.”

“Which you can find at almost any store,” Jameson agreed, nodding. He released a frustrated groan and fell into my rolling chair. “Another piece we haven’t pinpointed: Why these particular victims?”

“Victims number two and four had small misdemeanors on their records for bar fights. Other than that, they all have clean backgrounds. No drug use for any of them. Victim one had a girlfriend, though the others didn’t.”

“The latest victim’s neighbors said he was a ladies’ man. Maybe they all were and we’re dealing with a pissed-off boyfriend. Or if it is a woman, they all made enemies of the same one-night stand.” Slade leaned against the wall, crossing both arms over his broad chest. “Though what are the odds for either?”

“Low,” Jameson sighed. “There has to be something that connects them that we’re not seeing. It’s not in their backgrounds or credit history. I had our tech guy go through their online history, and he didn’t come up with any overlap on their spending.” He huffed a laugh. “Unless you count watching hours of porn.”

“I don’t understand men’s obsession with porn,” I said, flicking through the pictures, praying something would jump out at me. “Why watch something that would never happen? And it’s not like it does anything to relieve the arousal it creates. You’re still having to take matters into your own hand.” I smirked at my pun. “And it alters your expectations for your next sexual partner. Believe me, I’ve seen a lot of penises, and the equipment porn stars have—”

“Did I fall headfirst into the twilight zone?” I stopped talking, cheeks heating, finding both men’s intense gazes on me. “Watched a lot of porn, have you?” Jameson questioned, exchanging a strange look with Slade.

Ugh, did I really want to talk about this with these two? Not at all, but how did I get myself out of this conversation without admitting the truth—that I watched it with popcorn and beer as a good laugh at the end of a hard day?

What? The acting was hilarious and the plots too far-fetched.

“So, ten months, five victims, and we have shit to work with to catch this fucker.” I shot Slade a grateful smile. “And we can’t even narrow down the gender.”

Staring at the gory crime scene photos, I tilted my head, imagining myself as the unsub.

“I’d use poison,” I mused. “Not that the blood and gore affect me, but it’s just easier to plan, you know. Slip something into their drinks at the bar while they went to the bathroom that wouldn’t take effect until hours later and isn’t detected by a normal toxicology screen. Or maybe invite them over for dinner, then put it in the dessert so the poison doesn’t take effect until they’re home and in bed. It would look like they just died in their sleep.” Twirling a lock of dark hair around my fingers, I shook my head, making those few strands tug on my scalp. “No, then I would be connected to the murder as the last person to see them alive, which means I couldn’t commit multiple murders without becoming a suspect.”

The responding silence was heavy. Peeking up through my lashes, I saw both men staring at me with shocked expressions.

“What?”

“Oh, nothing. Just seems like you’ve thought this through. In detail.”

I nodded at Jameson. “Well, yeah. Hasn’t everyone had that intrusive thought of how you could get away with murder?” By their horrified expressions, I took that as a no. “I would never do it,” I admitted in a rush. “Just, you know… sometimes my mind wanders and…. Never mind.”

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