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May turned to Owen, seeing the same expression of shock in his eyes. This was a related case, without a doubt. But it wasn't a murder—not yet anyway. There must have been confusion, andMay guessed that in the circumstances, either the person calling it in had misunderstood or else the person taking the call had.
Owen walked aside and May heard him on the phone, updating the police department and telling them that the coroner could stand down for now, but that forensics must still come to the scene.
"Do you know what time she would have arrived home?"
Ron Haven shook his head. "I don't know. Probably around seven, seven-thirty."
"Any problems in her life, any trouble, any fights? Boyfriend issues?" May asked. There was always the chance that even though this looked like a related crime, it was a personal one.
"No. She didn't have a boyfriend at this time, and there was nothing going on in her personal life that could have caused this," Mrs. Haven insisted.
"There have been no problems anywhere nearby," Ron agreed. "No crime incidents in the area, no break-ins or robberies. It has been very quiet."
That pointed the finger firmly in the direction of this being a related crime.
"Did you hear anything earlier?"
"Nothing. We had the music on inside. We didn't hear or see a thing."
May was wondering if someone had been waiting for Melissa, or whether they had known she was coming in late and had followed her, waited for her to go into the cottage and then sneaked up, forced the door, and grabbed her.
The paving would not pick up any tire imprints, so the likelihood of getting a tire impression was small—if the killer had in fact driven up here at all. He could have parked further away and carried her. Already, they knew he was strong.
What about footprints?
She looked down at the cottage floor, seeing that there were some muddy footprints visible at the entrance, but they were not clear and looked to be smudges and smears. Additionally, May reminded herself, the family and friends had all trooped inside and out already, searching for Melissa. So, the scene was not pristine, and she was unsure what success forensics would have.
"We have police on the way," she said gently. "We'll pick up as much evidence as we can. We'll circulate her description. There have been other related crimes in the area."
"Yes, I heard about Giselle!" Mrs. Haven looked shocked. "They thought she'd been killed but yes, I can see it would have been similar to this. What's happening?" Wringing her hands, she turned to May with an expression of desperate appeal on her face. "Why are these women being taken?"
"We're looking for answers. We hope we'll have more as soon as we can," May said, wishing that there was more she could do to console this woman. She felt so ineffectual against a killer who was a good few steps ahead of them and still faceless.
Pacing away a few steps, she spoke to Owen in a quiet voice.
"This is a disaster, but the only thing it does tell us is that Maurice Fardy was definitely not the man committing these crimes."
"Yes, in terms of timing, he couldn't have done it," Owen agreed. "We were already chasing him down and taking him into custody when this happened."
"We can hold him for other crimes. But he's not our suspect." May sighed. "I don't know what more we can do tonight. I’ll call Jack and update him. And then, I'm going to go back to the police department to review the evidence, see if there's something I've missed."
"I'll work with you," Owen said.
There must be a link, May decided as she said goodbye to the family and headed over to brief the forensics officers. There must be a reason why these women had been targeted.
The homesteads were not that close to each other.
Why them? What was she missing?
If she could work out the connection between them, she hoped that she would be closer to finding the women themselves.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
As the doomsday survivalist sped away from the homestead, veering almost immediately off the main road to take a complex route of forest tracks, he felt a warm flare of satisfaction fill him. His work was going so well!
"You're the one I need," he told the new asset, glancing at the back of his pickup. Trussed and probably still knocked out, she couldn't hear him, of course. But he knew. He knew what a valuable asset she would be.
He checked behind him a few times along the way but saw nobody following him. It was second nature to him to check and double check. Paranoia was a useful tool, especially with the apocalypse approaching soon.
