Page 63 of Chilled

Having always been empathetic to others’ pain, Brenna could imagine the terror this woman had felt at slowly losing consciousness while her executioner stood by and watched.

“This man is...” Brenna couldn’t think of a word to describe the killer.

“...not a man at all,” Nick said. “He’s an animal to put a person through something so awful.”

Chief Burkholder stood beside the two on the edge of the embankment. “There were footprints from the road up to the body, but with the recent rain, the forensic team won’t have much to go on.”

Although she’d guess the other missing women were most likely dead, the actual evidence was much harder to stomach than Brenna had anticipated.

“Same M.O. with the bindings,” Nick noted. “Different choice of death.”

“Do you think he’s experimenting?” Brenna asked.

“Whatever he’s doing, he’s killing innocent people.” The chief jammed his hands into his pockets, a shiver jerking his shoulders beneath his winter coat. Although warm enough to melt the lingering snow, the temperature hadn’t risen above forty-five.

“What do we have?” Nick asked aloud. “We have a killer who likes to use Ethernet cable to bind his victims. So far, he’s used two different methods to kill them.”

“Could be more victims.” Chief Burkholder stared down at the dead woman. “We haven’t found Gomez or Carmichael, yet.”

Brenna pressed a gloved finger to her lips and then dropped it to her side. “Let’s hope we don’t find them like Stinson. He’s also not above a little arson to keep his identity a secret, and he likes flaunting how smart he is compared to me.”

“Don’t take it personally, Jensen,” the chief said.

Brenna couldn’t help but take it personally. The notes had come directly to her.

“A sociopath who likes variety in his killing…” Nick murmured.

“Yeah, a sociopath.” Brenna closed her eyes and pictured the book she’d read on serial killers. All had been sociopaths who had walked among society undetected. “A man like Ted Bundy who blends in with the crowd. Liked by his neighbors and a member of a church.” She opened her eyes and stared across at Nick. “An upstanding citizen by all outward appearances. Impossible to discern.”

“No.” Nick lifted one of her hands. “Not impossible. Even sociopaths are human. He’s killing smart women. He’s trying to prove he’s smarter than them.”

Brenna snorted. “And me.”

Nick squeezed her fingers through the gloves. “Humans make mistakes. We just have to dig beneath the surface of the evidence and find his mistake.”

The pressure on her hand gave her hope. “In the meantime, we keep watch over his next potential victim.”

As they walked away from the site, Brenna glanced farther up the road, the familiarity sinking in even in the dark. “My grandmother’s house is about half a mile north of here.”

“The same grandmother with the burning barn?” Nick asked quietly.

“Yeah.” The old barn was long gone, but Brenna could still smell the smoke in her memory.

“Does it bother you to go there?”

Nick’s words broke through her thoughts, pulling her back to the farm field and the road running alongside. “No, not really,” she lied, glancing down at her feet before she forced herself to meet his gaze. “I visited my grandmother’s house after the fire with no problem. Seems the only time I recall the incident is during times of stress.”

“Like now.” He stared across at her, as if seeing through her fib.

“I suppose.” Brenna climbed into her Jeep. “Ready?”

“Do you mind swinging by your grandmother’s house?”

Brenna darted a look at Nick. “Why? Can’t see much in the dark.”

He adjusted his seatbelt. “Just curious.”

Brenna shrugged, pretending nonchalance. “We still have a few minutes to spare. Why not?”