AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“How exciting,” Michael quipped. “Just like a movie.”
“Yeah,” Faith agreed. “Except the victims don’t get to walk away after the director calls cut.”
CHAPTER THREE
The jet the FBI chartered wasn't opulent, but they had legroom and a table between their side-facing chairs. It was a little disconcerting to be in a plane that was barely larger than Michael's SUV, but the takeoff was smooth enough.
“Besides,” Michael said, pulling out a bottle of champagne and two glasses. “They have a mini fridge.”
“You know they’re going to charge the Bureau for that,” Faith reminded him.
“The Bureau should know that I will milk them for every dime they’re worth by now,” Michael said. He poured both of them a glass and placed hers in front of her.
She sighed and took a sip.
“See?” Michael said. “You’re just as bad as me.”
“Grumble, grumble, go to hell,” Faith said dismissively. “So talk to me. What do we think about these murders?”
“They’re sick,” Michael replied.
She rolled her eyes. “Astute analysis, Special Agent.”
He shrugged. “That’s an important observation. These are not natural ways to pose a body. If both of them were starfished, I’d say this was entirely a sex thing. You know, leaving them vulnerable and ‘open.’ God, I hate having to talk about this so clinically.”
“McDonalds is hiring if you want a different job,” Faith quipped. “But I agree with you. I’m not ready to say that there’s no sexual component since both victims are attractive women stripped naked and left unblemished, but I agree that the poses aren’t meant to be sexual.”
“So what are they meant to be?”
“That’s an excellent question,” Faith replied, “and one we should answer. Another question we should answer is why the powder?”
“And why is the powder on Cassidy Holt black while the powder on Samantha Reynard is white?”
The two of them fell silent for a moment and studied the pictures. Turk trotted over and looked at the images himself. “See anything boy?” Faith asked.
Turk snorted and trotted back to his place in between the two front-facing seats at the front of the cabin.
“Yeah, me either,” Faith said. She cocked her head. “Actually, I do. The bodies are posed carefully, but the powder is sprinkled randomly around the victims.”
“So the powder is less important?”
“Or it’s less important that the powder be arranged meticulously. Maybe it just needs to be on the body.”
“What’s the significance of that?”
“I don’t know,” Faith admitted. “Maybe nothing. But I’m pointing it out in case it means something.”
Michael leaned back and crossed his arms thoughtfully. “The powder might not be meticulously placed, but the body was, just like you said. I think that pose matters more than the powder.”
“At least the exactness of the pose,” Faith agreed. “So tell me about Cassidy Holt.”
“She was a freelance graphic designer. Not so much an artist as a content creator.”
“What do you mean content creator?”
“Focused on practical business applications rather than making things look pretty,” Michael explained. “An artist might arrange something creatively to evoke a certain emotion or to deliver something unique. A graphic designer is trying to accomplish a business purpose. There’s a lot of overlap between the terms, but specifically in Cassidy’s case, she made her clients’websites eye-catching, simple to understand and conducive to sales.”
“What was she doing in the Chicago Botanic Garden at night?”
