Page 13 of Built of Illusions

Her purse lay on the ground a few feet away, contents scattered. Wallet appeared unopened. Keys, notebook, pens, tissues, a romance novel, makeup, hairbrush, and a Vegas shot glass. No drug paraphernalia or tobacco products.

She wore several rings, but none indicating she was engaged or married. Large hoop earrings, one ripped out of her ear and in the pile of items from her purse.

Didn’t appear that robbery was a motive. They’d dig into her life but Nico would bet she wasn’t involved with anyone at the moment. He’d also bet she’d always had dreams of being a dancer. She’d likely spent years training.

And now she was dead because some asshole was pissed at his mother for ditching him. He motioned for the waiting people to take Rita away. She didn’t deserve to be left here any longer. Thanks for waiting for us Rita. You’re going to help us catch this bastard.

Because he’d spent the previous evening and the morning with Josie, Nico was struck by the similarities between her and this woman. And with the other women who were part of the pattern.

Hell, she met all the criteria they’d figured out already. He’d have to talk to her when he got back. Warn her without scaring the shit out of her.

She would be vulnerable no matter what he said. She didn’t have a car and the bus stop wasn’t outside her house. Being new to the neighborhood, she hadn’t built up a support network yet. He knew she would because that’s the type of person she was, but it would take time.

She’d set up her house as a studio, so maybe she spent most of her time there. Nico needed to know her schedule and find a way to help. A way to keep her safe.

She’d made strong connections with the group up at Midnight Lake. Maybe he could use Tansy and the other women up there to make sure she took precautions. After he got back to Sacramento, he’d talk to Joe and see what he thought as well.

Roman moved over from where he’d been chatting with the local agents and PD. “Rita has been working here for more than six months. No boyfriend, no kids. Friendly with the other girls, well liked. Rented a room off another dancer. No unusual behaviours lately. Rehearsal was normal. She left a little later than usual because she was sewing up a rip in her costume for tonight.”

Nico kept the sigh internal. “No cameras in the parking lot or adjacent alley, no witnesses. Let’s show Josie’s sketches around, see if anything pops.”

Roman nodded but his face remained grim. “Without a face, it’s not likely, but no one can draw a vibe like Josie. Maybe we’ll get something that way.”

For a few moments, they surveyed the scene, searching for something they might have missed. Something was niggling in the back of Nico’s brain and he couldn’t pin it down. The same feeling he’d had when they’d been in LA and working the motel room where Alessandra had been killed.

He kept his voice for Roman’s ears only. “We’re missing something. Something he’s not bothering to hide, but it’s eluding me. Your gut saying anything to you?”

Roman shrugged. “A bit. I wish we’d been called on scene to more of these cases. I get better info from the scene than photographs.”

Nico agreed. Pictures helped, but they couldn’t encompass the entirety of the scene. The scents and the weather. The feel of the neighborhood and the looky-loos.

This area didn’t reek of desperation like some others he’d visited. It was a step up neighborhood, a place where people still had dreams and hope hadn’t been squashed. People here believed they’d make it to the big show.

Was that part of it? He’d have to go back over the data and the photos. Talk to the others. Get their impressions of the scene itself.

For now, he’d get Roman’s impressions. “He’s not after the down and out. This isn’t anywhere near the worst area in Vegas. In LA, it was a cheap motel room, but clean and cared for. Well-lit before he took out the lights.”

Roman squinted. “Fits with what we’ve got so far. He’s successful enough to be getting himself around the country. He’s probably dressed like Josie drew. Unless he has a disguise, he’d stand out in poorer areas. People would notice the good clothes. He’s sticking to areas where he fits.”

Nico nodded, brain whirling. “He wouldn’t want to lower himself, wouldn’t want to smell the cesspools and risk contact with the people who live in the dark.”

That fit with the arrogant feel of these crimes. Jackass was sure he was better than the cops. Cocky enough to leave a clue? Something that Nico wouldn’t automatically notice but that would make the jackass chuckle.

The guy probably jerked off to the thought of outsmarting the FBI. Would he know they were involved? Would he know Nico and Roman had connected the string of kills? Did he have some kind of law enforcement connection?

Some killers liked leaving clues behind. Some wanted that attention, even if it wasn’t public. They enjoyed the thought of pulling one over on the cops. Nico wondered if this guy had crossed state lines specifically to get the FBI involved. He could have practiced the kills in his own state before moving on to find his mother.

He probably thought he was smarter than everyone, that he rarely got the accolades he deserved. This was his way of showing off. And if he wanted to show off, the pattern would continue. And then it would escalate.

Unless Nico figured him out first.

Josie lost herself in the art.

At first, she’d played with the clay. Molding, shaping, squashing, and starting again. From her first experience with putty in kindergarten, the stuff had fascinated her.

Her middle school art teacher, Mrs. Chaga, had introduced her students to sculpture and getting their work fired in a kiln. The process had amazed Josie and she’d spent her lunch hours in the art room whenever she could.

Mrs. Chaga had allowed Josie free rein of supplies. In that room, she had her first taste of pastels and charcoals. Clay and papier mâché. She’d learned the difference between watercolors and oil paints. Discovered how to take photos that went beyond pretty pictures to tell stories.

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