Page 168 of Shhh…It’s A Killer Story

"They didn't miss anything."

"No," I answered quietly.

"They removed everything."

Silence settled over the room again. My eyes drifted to the final section. The missing women. Ten turned to Twelve two days ago. Twelve photographs. Twelve different smiles. Twelve different homes. Twelve different lives. None of them knew each other.

Different jobs, routines, ages, counties and social circles. Nothing connected them except the day they disappeared and somehow...not a single witness or one usable tire impression, no fingerprints, fibres, CCTV, ransom demands and no bodies.

Nothing.

It was as if someone had learned exactly how we investigated crimes...and built an operation specifically designed to avoid every single step.

"They vanish inside ninety seconds," Mason said behind me.

I didn't answer. He continued anyway.

"Ninety seconds between the last confirmed sighting and complete disappearance."

I stared at the map. Different places, roads. Different killers wouldn't stay this disciplined. This wasn't improvisation. This was choreography.

I finally spoke.

"They rehearse."

Mason looked at me.

I pointed toward the board.

"Every extraction."

I hated calling them extractions when I knew they were kidnappings. Lives. People but the word fit too well.

"They already know who's grabbing her, who's driving, where every hand goes."

I shook my head.

"They aren't reacting. They’re executing."

Derek folded his arms across his chest.

"So?"

"So," I replied, "that means somebody planned every one of these before the van ever stopped."

Derek leaned against the wall.

"I still think it's trafficking."

"Why?" Mason asked.

"Because this isn't personal."

He gestured toward the board.

"Look at the logistics, twelve women, six months, multiple counties and no mistakes. You don't build that unless people are making money."

Mason wasn't convinced.