"Close to a road. I noticed that," Owen said. "I guess that would be so he didn't have to carry the bodies too far."

  "And low-lying ground. Not high ground."

  "And covered in flowers. I mean, there were a remarkable number of flowers there," Owen observed.

  "I guess that makes sense, seeing he's targeting his victims based on their name. At least, that's one of the reasons we know about," May said, feeling uneasily aware that there was still a lot they did not know.

  But for a start, they could try to work out where alternative burial grounds might be.

  "It would have to be a wild meadow," she said. "Not one used by farmers, or even hikers. Unused land that doesn't have a walking trail going through it."

  She felt they were starting to narrow down what had initially felt like an impossible job.

  "There are a few areas like that near the lake," she remembered.

  "And one other thing," Owen warned.

  "What's that?"

  "If he's prepared a grave for her and has buried her in that meadow, there will be signs of disturbed ground. Signs of digging. So that will provide us a clue."

  "It will," May said, feeling another chill of apprehension.

  At that moment, a car pulled up with its blue light flashing. The pathology team had arrived.

  Dr. Andy Baker climbed out, his face serious.

  "Evening, May," he said. "I can't believe this killer has taken another victim, but I'm glad you picked this up soon. We'll set up here, take samples of whatever we find, and analyze the site."

  "Please let me know when you're done," May said. "Here's the details for Rosemary's boyfriend, Chuck. He's expecting you to come by for a DNA sample."

  "That's good. I'm glad he's prepared and waiting," Andy said calmly.

  With the scene now being forensically examined, May and Owen turned away and trudged back to the mall where they had left their car.

  "I guess it's too late now to start looking for meadows," Owen said. "We'd need to work on that during the day, especially to pick up signs of disturbance."

  "Yes. That's definitely a project for tomorrow morning," May said. "For now, I guess we could go back to the police department and compile a list of the missing persons with flower names, who haven't turned up so far in the mass grave."

  "Yes, I guess that would be helpful. The more of the families we can speak to, the better the chances are that we find something. Surely?" Owen added hopefully.

  May wasn't feeling hopeful. She was feeling overwhelmed. She was sure that by tomorrow, the FBI would have arrived and would be on the scene, adding their manpower to the efforts to find the killer.

  But then, as they approached her car, May's phone rang. She didn't recognize the number, but picked up immediately.

  "Deputy Moore speaking," she said.

  "Deputy, it's Mark Gregory here. Lily's older brother."

  "Good evening, Mark," May said, wondering why Mark was calling. With Lily having been missing for three weeks, and her body now unearthed, she wondered if Mark might have some information he wanted to share.

  Sure enough, her instinct was right.

  "My mother said we should call you if we had anything that could possibly help," he explained.

  "Yes, we asked her to. Do you have something helpful?"

  "Well, yes. For a while, a few months back, she dated a very weird guy. It wasn't for long, they split up quite soon, because like I said, he was weird."

  "Weird in what way?" May asked.

  "He used to mumble to himself all the time. He sometimes seemed really out of it, like he was on drugs, or actually more like on another planet, I thought. He was hugely secretive and there were times he wouldn’t let her visit him. And he had, like, a fetish for flowers, their scents, their colors."

  With her phone on speaker, May and Owen glanced excitedly at each other. This could lead somewhere.

  "Is that so?"

  "Yes. We joked it was why he dated her. For her name. Anyway, he wasn't right for her and I think they ran into problems very soon. But now I'm wondering if he could be linked to this."

  "Where can we find him? What's his name?"

  "His name's Zane Naylor and he runs a flower shop near the big cemetery outside Chestnut Hill. He lives behind the shop. Lily visited him there a few times and I dropped her off there once. I can send you a pin drop."

  "Please do. We'll go there immediately," May said.

  She felt as if this case had suddenly taken a giant step forward.

  A flower-obsessed, weird ex was exactly the kind of person who could have been committing these murders. Without a doubt, there was a possible link, and there was no time to waste in questioning Zane Naylor.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Although the flower shop would be closed at this time of the evening, May wondered if Zane would be at home, in his apartment behind the shop. She guessed that if he’d taken Rosemary, he would have had enough time to kill her and dump her in a grave that he’d prepared. He would probably be home already, feeling satisfied after successfully murdering her.

  At any rate, the minute the pin drop came through, she and Owen powered onto the road, on their way and hoping to find this creepy, flower-obsessed ex who might hold the key to the killings.

  "It's a right turn here, then left," Owen said, studying the map as May sped along the road. It was now fully dark.

  Ahead, she could see the lights of Chestnut Hill, clustered on the sloping hillside.

  As they drew closer, May could see the darker patch among the lights, where the huge graveyard with its winding paths was located.

  They drove a short distance and then rounded a corner. The lights above the small row of shops on the street opposite the cemetery entrance were clearly visible. There was a coffee shop, a laundromat, a grocer, and of course, the flower shop.

  "Yes. It's there," Owen said.

  It was called Floral Obsessions, May noted with narrowed eyes. Was there another clue waiting for them in that name?

  The shops themselves, at this hour, were all dark and locked up. It gave the center a desolate feeling. May parked in one of the empty spaces outside.

  It looked as if the small apartments backed onto the stores, but that you had to walk around to access them. May paced around the corner of the center, hoping that they would get lucky and find their suspect.

  Her heart accelerated when she saw that a faint light was on in the apartment that backed onto the flower store.

  "It looks like Zane's at home," she said, feeling a thrill of determination that they were going to be able to come face to face with this suspect in another short minute.

  May walked up to the apartment door. Unlike the stores at the front, which were neatly maintained and in good condition, the apartment behind the shop was definitely less so.

  The brickwork was pitted, and the front door was in need of a sand and varnish. There was a strange smell in the air, which May couldn't place, but it was not a smell that she associated with flowers.

  She'd imagined a pretty apartment, with geranium pots outside. That had been her vision for this flower obsessed man. But this was creepier and seedier and she wondered if it reflected the true character of the man who lived here.

  She knocked on the door.

  Footsteps approached. And then the door opened to reveal a man in his mid-thirties with a pale, moon-like face, dark hair, and dark eyes. He wore faded jeans and a white T-shirt. His expression was strangely blank, and he didn't appear surprised to see them. It was hard to make out much more because the overhead light in the hall was either turned off, or not working.

  "Zane Naylor?" May asked. Was that a muddy footprint on the floor? She narrowed her eyes, trying to see it better in the dim light.

  He nodded.

  May’s first thought was whether this man was old enough to have committed the murders. She decided he was. If he’d started young, his approximate age fit the time span they were seeking.

  "Deputies Moore and Lovell. We'd like to ask you a couple of questions," she said.

  She couldn't tell from his expression what he was thinking. Zane was not giving anything away.

  "Can we come in?"

  Now, she saw his eyes flicker.

  "Can you come in? Sure, sure, of course. You can. Come in. Yes."

  May blinked. This was certainly the strangest offer of entry into premises she'd yet had.

  Zane led the way through the dark and narrow hall. From there, he veered right, into a small room that was also dark, May saw to her confusion.

  "In here. In here, please, we can talk. In here. Please."

  "Is there a light?" May asked, confused, as Zane waved them in.

  "Yes. There is. A light. It's down the passage. I'll go. And switch it on. I'll switch it on for you."

  He just about shoved Owen into the room.

  Then, as Owen was fumbling in his pocket to get out his phone flashlight, May heard a click behind them and the room got suddenly even darker.

  She spun around.

  The impossible realization dawned on her that Zane had closed the door, with him on the other side. Gasping in surprise, May heard the metallic scrabble of the key in the lock.

  She felt utterly shocked at this sound, and for a moment, her brain could not actually take in what was happening.

  And then, in a rush, she realized what his devious plan had been, one they had never expected in their surprise as he'd ushered them inside.

  "He's locking us in!"

  She dove for the door, at exactly the same moment Owen snapped on the flashlight.

  But May was too late. She twisted the handle, but it wouldn’t open.

  They were in Zane's bedroom, she realized in astonishment, turning around to look at what the flashlight revealed. That was where he'd led them to. It contained a double bed with a dip in the mattress and a scuffed gray duvet, a chest of drawers that was partway open, with socks and underwear spilling out, and a small cupboard that had one door hanging off the hinges and looked to be crammed with clothes and bags.

  The stale smell of the room was somewhat offset by the massive arrangement of flowers on the bedside table. A few days old, the roses, chrysanthemums, and gladioli were drooping and losing their petals.

  A bookcase in the corner of the room was cluttered with books on botany, flowers, cultivars, and bulbs. On the walls were amateurish, hand-drawn sketches of various blooms. Most definitely, this man was both weird, and flower-obsessed.

  "Let us out!" May yelled. But there was no reply from beyond the door. She heard another door slam. That sounded like the front door, and adrenaline surged inside her as she realized what move he'd pulled.

  This man was definitely not normal. His behavior was highly suspicious. And now, he'd locked them in and was without a doubt going to use this window of time to make his escape.

  “We need to get out, before he gets away,” May spluttered, appalled that he had managed to pull this move on them so sneakily.

  "Stand back, May," Owen said, his voice urgent. “Let me see if I can break through the door.”

  May squeezed away, pressing herself against the edge of the bed, as her deputy lined himself up on the far side of the room and took a running jump at the door, his feet thudding on the worn carpet. Determination was in his eyes as he leaped for the door, his foot lashing forward in a perfect kick.

  He hit the lock squarely with the ball of his left foot and to May's relief, the door shattered open, the wooden jamb breaking at the handle with a cracking sound.

  Feeling full of admiration at that perfectly executed lock smash, May burst through the doorway.

  "Zane Naylor!" she yelled.

  But there was no reply. She hadn’t expected one. He’d run from them, and now the only question in her mind was where he’d gone.

  He must have gone out, she decided. No way would someone this sneaky be hiding inside the house, she thought. He would not be wanting to lay low, but rather to get away, and he must have run into the parking lot, looking to get as much distance between him and the police as he could.

  "We need to get him! We need to find him!"

  May rushed to the door and burst out of the apartment, staring around her in the darkening night. Where was he? Which direction had he fled?

  Then, from the right, a flash of movement caught her eye. Was that him?

  She thought it was. That glimpse of white had been his shirt. Zane was running for it, as fast as he could, around the right-hand side of the building.

  They had to stop him and they had to outwit a man who was clearly far sneakier and more desperate than they had given him credit for at first.

  Scenarios flashed through May's mind in an instant as she considered what the best option would be.

  "I'll go right, and follow him!" she said to Owen.

  He nodded. "I'll go left, and cut him off if he tries to double back," he said.

  With their hasty plan in mind, May set off, racing as fast as she could go across the slippery and uneven paving, hoping that they could catch up with Zane and take him down, before the sneaky and highly suspicious man managed to evade their clutches.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  May raced around the side of the small apartment block, desperate to keep Zane in her sight, or at any rate, to catch up with where he was fleeing, before he disappeared or hid. As she ran, she was already checking off the options in her mind as to where he might go.

  His car. Did he have a car? If he did, it wouldn’t be at the front of the building. So he wasn’t running for a car.

  That must mean he had some other idea about where to go, some bolt hole that he planned to use, or else an escape route that would allow him to dodge out of sight.

  Of course, he could also be running blindly in a panic. That would be the better option for May and Owen, because there would be less risk that he’d evade them. Running blindly was the best case scenario for them, for sure.

  Her shoes skidded on the worn paving stones, and her foot banged painfully into the side of the wall as she hurtled around the corner. But May’s own momentum powered her forward and she flung her legs ahead of her, regaining her balance as she stared into the darkness to see where he was.

  There he was, ahead, racing across the road. The flash of white caught her eye once again and she locked onto it, narrowing her gaze in the shadowy dark, waiting for the moments when the street lights or the outside lights of houses illuminated that shirt, which was really the only part of Zane she had a hope of seeing.

  A thudding of footsteps to her left told her that Owen was on the chase. She didn’t expect her deputy to join her directly. Owen was a master at guesswork when it came to fleeing suspects. And he knew the area well. He would probably be trying to anticipate Zane’s moves, taking the circular route or the side alley, while May kept running after him directly.

  Where was he going? May pounded across the road after him, her shoes thudding on the blacktop, feeling glad that at this hour the road was quiet. It was Saturday night, and people were heading into the main parts of town, not making for this quiet, backwater area with its peaceful cemetery and quiet local shopping complex.

  She had the feeling that Zane was running in a panic. He didn’t seem to be making for any hiding place. How could he be, when he was racing along the road as if trying to exceed a human land-speed limit? And that was the problem, she realized, her lungs burning as she gasped in air for the pursuit. He was fast, and motivated, and clearly wanted to escape them at all costs.

  May couldn’t let that happen. She felt her shoes thudding on the blacktop as she did her best to outrun this man, who was worryingly long-legged and fleeing from them as if his life depended on it.

  And what if it did, May thought, adrenaline flooding her veins as she tried to pick up her pace another gear. What if this man was running because he knew he was guilty, and that if he was caught, they would find he had committed all these heinous crimes?

  That made her even more determined to catch him, but he seemed hell bent on getting away. Now, he was veering down a side street, disappearing from her view so that her stomach lurched. She thought she guessed what his strategy was. Seeing it was now totally dark, he was going to try and avoid the bigger roads with street lights, and head into the darker areas.

  If he got any more of a lead, they would lose him. And with so much at stake, they could not afford to do that right now.

  “Stop! Police!” May yelled into the darkness, just in case it made a difference, or somebody ahead might hear and help them.

  It didn’t. There was nobody ahead, nobody in sight at all. He completely ignored her screamed request to stop, and ran off even faster into the narrow, twisting roads behind the graveyard.

  And now, May saw, he was running along the graveyard road itself. She could hear the regular thump-thump of his footsteps. But she caught no more than the barest glimpse of that shirt, because he was now far ahead, and gaining. He was running with all the speed of desperation and she felt a flare of panic that she wouldn’t catch him, that he had bought enough time and distance to be able to get away and hide.

  “Stop!” she yelled again, hoping that even if her shouted plea didn’t have an effect on the fugitive, it might just alert someone nearby who could join the chase.

  But it was Saturday night, people were indoors, having showers, getting ready with hairdryers blasting before going out, or parked in front of the television for a night of microwave meals.

  Nobody was out on the streets at this hour. Nobody was listening to hear the drama unfolding in their neighborhood. There was nobody to help May catch up with this potentially murderous man who was clearly running for a reason.

  Where was Owen? The thought flashed through her mind. Only her deputy could help her catch up with this fleeing fugitive from justice.

  Perhaps she could distract Zane, May thought suddenly, if she could find any breath to call to him. It was worth a try. Anything right now was worth a try.

  “You’re going to be in big trouble,” she yelled.

 

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