It's going to be a good night, he thought. And he would make it as beautiful as he could.

  He would make it a place of flowers.

  He would make it a place of death.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  There was an intruder in May's room, and her blood turned to ice as she realized this fact, and felt the intent of his unfriendly presence. She could hear the implacable footsteps approaching her bed, and the hiss of his soft breathing. Despite the cameras, despite the new security gate on her bedroom door, someone had gotten in.

  She couldn't see him as he had on a dark, hooded jacket. All she could pick up was the glint of his eyes as he stared at her.

  She sat bolt upright in the bed and stared at the dark figure. Her heart was beating like a drum and her head felt light.

  "I told you to back off, May Moore," the stranger - she guessed it was a man in his thirties or forties - hissed at her as he approached. He was tall, taller than she'd thought. He loomed over her, powerful and threatening and yet, utterly anonymous.

  She wanted to scream, to alert a neighbor to his presence, but she found it impossible to speak. She had no voice.

  "I've been watching you, even though you don't think I have been," he continued. "I told you not to ask any more questions about Lauren. You aren't listening. And now, you will pay the price."

  The intruder stepped up to the bed and grabbed May's arm. His fingers were cold and strong, his grasp icy. He was going to take her. This was it.

  Finally May found the voice to scream. She screamed at the top of her voice, shrieked in terror.

  She screamed herself right out of the nightmare, realizing that her full scale cries of terror had been nothing more than breathy whimpers.

  Her bedroom was empty, and the faintest light of morning was filtering through the curtain.

  May was breathing fast. Terror still surged inside her as she sat up, staring around and making sure there was nobody watching. A cold sweat prickled her spine. She'd had that nightmare a few times now, since someone had left those threats on her laptop. Every time, it felt more real than actual reality, and utterly petrifying.

  She wondered if Kerry would make anything of the video. Probably not, she thought. She guessed she'd found everything that there was to be found from it. She'd really sent it more to help her sister and distract her from the pain of the break-up. And also to share with her what she was doing, because that was only fair.

  Today, she was sure, Kerry would be arriving with the FBI team. They would help them with this case.

  But for now, it was getting light, and that meant that it was time for the arrangement May had made with Owen yesterday. They were going to go and scope out a few of the most likely sites where this killer might have dumped his bodies.

  She checked her phone again, just in case there was news on Rosemary, but there was nothing. Clearly, the overnight searches hadn’t made progress.

  May scrambled out of bed and dressed quickly. She made sure to lock her bedroom door behind her after she left the room, and made extra sure that the house was securely locked up when she stepped out of the front door. The chilly tendrils of that dream were still clinging to her mind.

  She got into her car and drove to the police department, Since it was just five minutes away, she knew she would arrive there at exactly five a.m.

  Even though they were starting at this early hour, May feared that the killer had already done his work. She had the terrible image of Rosemary's body lying in a shallow grave.

  But they were going to find her, whatever it took. He was not going to hide this new victim away for months and years. And then, they were going to find him. This slaughter, this murder, was going to stop, May resolved, as she braked and pulled over outside the police department.

  At that moment, Owen's car pulled up behind hers and parked in one of the spaces outside the building. Her deputy got out and jogged over to her car. May was impressed by how wide awake he looked for having gotten such an early start. And better still, he was holding a large flask of coffee.

  "Morning, May," he greeted her, climbing into the car.

  "Morning, Owen," she said.

  She looked at him, and her face warmed into a smile. With him there, everything seemed better. The aroma of coffee filled the space as he poured it into two mugs.

  May slurped a big gulp of coffee gratefully. Caffeine was sorely needed. Between that and Owen's company, the day already felt brighter. She felt ready to cope with what was surely going to be a difficult task.

  "I've thought of a few places where we could look," Owen said. “I brought a map along.”

  "Me, too," May said. "How about we mark off on the map where we think he could have taken the bodies, and if there are any places we both think likely, we go there first?"

  "Great idea," Owen said.

  He unfolded a large scale paper map of the area, and he and May both took a pen.

  May smoothed out the top left corner of the map. She identified the road she had thought of. It was a pretty country lane that ran in between small farms, with tracts of wood on either side. There were several wild meadows along its route, but May had narrowed the possibilities down to two that she would have chosen if she were the killer, based on the fact they were low lying, and close to the road.

  She shaded them both in carefully.

  Then she moved to the bottom left-hand side of the map, where there was another possibility toward the south. And finally, she leaned over to Owen's side, and shaded in the two places that were north of town. One was near a small tributary of Eagle Lake. The other was among farmland further to the west. It was bordered by a hiking trail but May didn't think the trail crossed that particular part of open ground that was always bright with flowers at this time of year.

  She waited for Owen to finish, and then took a look at what they had.

  There were two sections of the map that they'd both chosen.

  One was the very first meadow that May had colored in, and the other was the one near the tributary of Eagle Lake.

  "Well, we have two in common," she said.

  "Which one shall we pick first?" Owen asked.

  "I guess the closer one. And then drive to the one that's further away."

  "Good idea. That site near the lake is only a couple of miles away."

  May gulped down the rest of her coffee. Then she started the car and drove out of town, heading to the small, scenic tributary of Eagle Lake that curved around the town to the south.

  At this early hour, the roads were quiet and there were only one or two other cars along the route. May found herself looking at them suspiciously. In the back of her mind she was wondering if one of them was the killer, freshly returned from his gruesome job.

  The sky was brightening, and May guessed the sun would rise in another few minutes. It was going to be a glorious summer Sunday.

  And she was going to spend it pursuing this man, who had been allowed to cause so much grief and destruction for years.

  Here was the meadow, colorfully studded with flowers. They got out and stood by the side of the road, looking down at it. It was an easy and convenient site to get to, with the road winding past it and the lake glimmering beyond. May felt that the killer might have been drawn to it. But even though May and Owen paced along the road, she couldn't see any signs of disturbed earth.

  "There's nothing in sight here," Owen said, echoing the thoughts she had.

  May nodded grimly. "That means Rosemary's body wasn't dumped here. Let's go to the other site we both chose, and then start looking at the others."

  For a moment, she felt a pang of fear that she was on the totally wrong track. But this time, May didn't allow herself to get caught up in it. As they drove in silence to the next site, she managed to stop the uncertainty from taking over. Drawing in a deep breath, she refused to let herself fall prey to her usual anxiety. She was on the right track and needed to believe in herself.

  For once, she needed to force herself to be more like Kerry and less like the part of herself that she hated.

  With the roads free of traffic so early on a Sunday morning, the drive was very quick, and only a few minutes later, May reached the site. She parked and climbed out, thinking how similar it was to the previous site. A breeze was starting up, and the morning was fresh, and already warming. She paced over to the small meadow and gazed down, her eyes searching the flowery grass for any sign of disturbance.

  And May drew in a gasp as she saw what they were looking for. She heard Owen murmur something, shocked words that she barely heard.

  A big, rectangular scar was visible amid the flowers. Fresh earth had been shoveled aside. She could almost smell the dampness of the soil from here. Shivers coursed through her as she stared at the proof. The proof that another woman had lost her life and been hastily buried here, just hours ago.

  "We need to get the teams out," May said firmly, trying her best to sound strong, rather than shocked. "This is a fresh site. And we have to find something, Owen. This kill is so recent, there must be a clue. I am sure there will be something on this site or on the body that will tell us more about him."

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Owen felt utterly shocked at the scale of these kills. It chilled his blood to think that for years, for decades, this monster had been picking off victims from among the local towns.

  Doing it so skillfully that nobody had noticed a pattern. But clearly there was a very important pattern. Owen felt filled with anger and resolve to hunt this man down, whatever it took. Slowly, he knew, this man would be leaving clues that they could find, now that they knew about him and were hot on his trail.

  Flowers. The victims were all named after flowers. They were buried in floral meadows.

  There might be other factors and Owen knew he needed to look out for them, even though he didn't yet know what they would be.

  As he watched the first cars arrive on the horizon, silhouetted against the rising sun, Owen was sure that other signs would be there. This guy was clearly a psycho. Murdering women because of their names? He'd known to expect the unexpected when he'd joined the police, but he'd never thought he'd be rubbing up against this level of crazy.

  But he guessed it existed. Even in his previous life as an accountant, they'd had some pretty weird clients, who had liked doing very creative and highly illegal things with their businesses and their books. Not to mention the things he’d heard about their personal lives – and these were supposedly ‘normal’ people who had no criminal record.

  But this man was the worst kind of criminal, and it made Owen feel sad that the innocent had to suffer so that he could continue feeding his flawed fantasies. He was determined to do everything he could to bring this creepy killer to justice.

  Because that was why people joined the police, right? For the purpose of stopping the perpetrators of such crimes, of making the world a safer and more secure place.

  "Here they are," May said, sounding pleased as the first two cars sped up to the site, and stopped with a squeal of brakes.

  She'd called the relevant people immediately, and Owen had been impressed by how fast and efficiently she'd managed to get the teams into action.

  Owen felt a surge of gratitude towards her for how efficient and professional she was. May was calm and in control, she took charge, making sure that everything was organized. She was using every ounce of her background and training.

  She'd also requested that a separate team of pathologists go to the other field that May and Owen had both chosen, and examine it for any remains. Owen thought that was a good idea, given that the field was so conveniently situated and so similar to the other two sites. And the team here included Andy Baker, who Owen had the deepest respect for.

  As he saw the brown-haired coroner climb out of his van, he felt hopeful that his expertise could shed more light on this case.

  "Morning, May. Morning, Owen," Andy said. "This is turning into something of a disaster."

  He looked short on sleep. Owen was sure he'd worked late into the night, doing his best to identify the oldest remains, to match them up to missing people and ensure that the families could at least get closure as soon as possible.

  Two more police officers from the Fairshore department climbed out of the following car.

  "The FBI is arriving in an hour. They're going to meet with Sheriff Jack, who will brief them," the younger of the two, Deputy Hartley, told May.

  "Thanks," she nodded.

  "They're also bringing a forensic team and hopefully more equipment and resources to help process these sites. Do you know, are there just these two sites? You mentioned the other team is also going to check out a third?" He asked the question with a note of trepidation.

  Owen saw May shake her head. "We don't know yet. We have to suspect the worst."

  Owen couldn't help biting his lip as he saw Andy Baker, now swathed in PPE, descending the hill slope to the flowery lowland below.

  Even though the idea of staring at a freshly buried body made his skin crawl, Owen knew he had to help. If Andy had the courage to do this, he did, too.

  He pulled on a head cover, gloves, and foot covers, before slipping and slithering his way down the dew-damp grass, his plastic foot covers offering no purchase. He just about skied to the bottom, waving his arms frantically to stop from overturning. Then, at a more sensible walking pace, he picked his way through the flowers to the area of disturbed earth.

  The pathologist was unpacking a kit bag containing a small spade.

  He dug it carefully into the earth. Owen watched, wide eyed, as he gently loosened the soil. He knew there was a body under here, and that nothing must be done to damage it.

  Having gotten rid of some of the soil, Andy began brushing the rest away with careful hands.

  Owen caught his breath as the face he'd been expecting to see appeared. There she was, this poor woman who'd been working at the mall, only to be grabbed and killed.

  "Looks like a hard blow to the head," Andy murmured as if to himself. "And then, from the slight bruising I can see around the mouth, I'm guessing that these women were smothered with something soft."

  Owen felt a spark of relief that, at least, Rosemary and the others had not had to suffer in pain and terror. Not that it made it any better to steal their lives away so brutally, but a prolonged suffering would have made this unbearable to cope with. As it was, he could keep his gaze on the corpse - just.

  "Fresh," Andy commented. "About twelve hours old." He glanced up at them. "I will have a more precise estimation in the lab, but this is just being on the safe side, okay?"

  "Sure," May nodded. She, too, had gotten dressed in PPE and come to help - literally, in the trenches. "Thanks, Andy."

  Owen felt a lump in his throat. He'd worked with Andy a few times now, and he'd always respected the man's courtesy and calmness. Now, that seemed even more appropriate and necessary. Rosemary looked so beautiful, apart from the wound on her head. Her makeup was still in place. She was still wearing the top she'd clearly put on for her day's work in the mall.

  "I said smothered," Andy murmured to himself. "But I'm wondering if there was chloroform, or something, involved here. I smell something, for sure."

  He bent closer to the corpse, sniffing.

  Then he turned to Owen. "Can you pick up anything?"

  Owen's eyes widened. He had to stop himself from flinching back. He was being asked to smell - to actually smell - a corpse?

  What would his mother think if she could see him now, he wondered, deciding this was definitely one work moment that would not be shared at family dinners.

  Hesitantly, he leaned forward, not wanting to contaminate the scene by removing his mask, but holding it an inch away from his nose so he could try and pick up what Andy was telling him.

  "Yes," he said, sounding surprised. "I can pick it up but my nose is not as good as yours. It smells more like perfume to me, not like a chemical. Like quite a strong, intense perfume. Is it coming from her skin or her clothing? It seems to be everywhere."

  Andy nodded. "I agree. Now that you’ve picked it up, it is a strong perfume."

  "Didn't she work for one of the department stores, promoting the perfumes?" Owen asked.

  "That might account for it. But it definitely is a powerful smell. Perhaps she was demonstrating some, or she used some."

  “No, she couldn’t have done that,” May said. And then, Owen remembered, with a flash of insight, why that was so.

  “No, she couldn’t. Her boyfriend, Chuck, said yesterday that she was allergic. She couldn’t wear it at all. So the killer must have poured it onto her skin and clothes. There’s no other way we’d get that smell coming off of her.”

  Owen was beginning to suspect that they had another piece of the puzzle, thanks to being able to examine this corpse so soon.

  Perfume played a role.

  "It's definitely strong," May said. "I can smell it from here.” She stepped cautiously forward, taking a deeper inhalation. “So he must be using it, or drawn to it, or involved with it in some way. It’s clearly significant to him. It’s a signature, for sure."

  They now knew something they didn't know before. And perhaps this could give them an insight into who he was, when looking at past victims. Had any of them worked with perfume? Dated a perfume manufacturer? Had any incident where perfume was mentioned?

  Since it seemed to intertwine with the floral theme, and might possibly play a role, Owen decided this was now where they needed to look.

  They had to search back into the past again, armed with yet another piece of evidence that might lead them to the killer's present whereabouts.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  May was crowded together with Owen at the desk, head to head, so close their knees were touching as they started on their important new angle of research. This was because the back office at the Fairshore police department was packed.

 

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