She stepped into the shop and was immediately hit with the scent of flowers. Her eyes began to water as her allergies kicked in. This was going to be a quick interview, or else they were going to have to go into the back room.
She pulled out her FBI credentials and showed them to the clerk on duty. “I’d like to ask you some questions about a delivery that was made to Whitten Medical Center last night.”
The woman behind the counter was in her forties with short hair and soft eyes. “Of course. I’m the owner, Charlotte Manchester. We had several deliveries there last night for the woman who escaped the serial killer. That was something special. That was you, wasn’t it? Everyone who came in was excited that finally someone can identify him. It’s what we’ve all been waiting for.”
Lucy smiled at her, thankful for her kind sentiments. She hated to tell her that she couldn’t identify him, that it had all happened so fast and that her attacker’s face was nothing more than a blur in her mind. So she wouldn’t tell her that. If the police wanted that information released, they would be the ones to do so. It wasn’t smart to let the killer know she couldn’t identify him, although it might take her out of his sights.
“That was me.” There was no point in denying it. Her face would be all over the news in a matter of hours after the show while leaving the hospital. Plus how many FBI agents would be in town looking like they’d just gone several rounds in the boxing ring? “I received several very nice bouquets. The one I’m interested in came with this note.” She pulled out a copy of the card Detective Ross had given her.
The woman read it and her face paled. “Oh my. That’s terrible.”
“Do you recall who wrote that?”
“No. Most of our orders were placed over the phone or online, but we did have several people walk in yesterday evening to purchase flowers. We were unusually busy last night. The entire town was excited about your escape. It had to be one of them, otherwise someone here would have written the card and I don’t recognize this handwriting.”
“But you don’t know who that person was?”
“No. I wouldn’t have sent it out knowing the note said something like that.”
“Okay, what about receipts. Did anyone who came in pay with a credit card?”
“Yes, I have those records, although we had several people pay in cash. They’re more likely to pay with cash if they come into the store.”
“I’d like to see those receipts. I’d also like to know who else worked last night.”
“I only have two other employees who help me. They both work part-time. I’ll get you their names. And I’ll copy that list for you.” She disappeared into the back room.
“What do you think?” Bryce asked her.
“I think it’s a dead end. I doubt someone who wrote that on a card would pay with a credit card, but we still have to check it out. Maybe Detective Ross will find a fingerprint to identify him.”
“Do you really think the person who attacked you walked in here and purchased flowers for you? Wouldn’t he be worried about being seen?”
Most people would think that, but Lucy knew from her experience that serial killers had a different mind-set than most regular people. “Serial killers are known for being able to blend into society. It’s why so many of them get away with it for so long.”
Mrs. Manchester returned with the list. Lucy thanked her for her help and turned to leave, when the woman stopped her with a question. “You can identify him, can’t you, Agent Sanderson? Please tell me this nightmare is over and you know who the killer is. It will put a lot of people at rest to know.”
She glanced at Bryce, and Lucy knew she was anxious to hear if Clint Tippitt had been the one behind her attack. She saw Bryce flush with embarrassment. “I really can’t say,” Lucy told the woman. “It’s still an ongoing investigation.” She held up the paper. “Thank you for your help though, and have a nice day.”
She and Bryce walked back outside to his truck, and he helped her inside. Despite her blustering to Detective Ross yesterday about her ability to interview and interrogate witnesses, she was glad this venture hadn’t called for that. She was tired and in more pain today than she had been yesterday. Her ankle was already protesting the short walk, and her head was pounding.
Bryce must have noticed because he suggested returning to the B&B. “I saw some boxes when I was there earlier, probably the ones Jim Ross sent over about the case.”
He was giving her a way out of her posturing. Once again, she owed him. “You’re right. I really should focus my attention on the cases. If I’m going to identify this killer, the clues will be in those files.”
Bryce drove Lucy to the B&B where Mrs. Ferguson, an elderly lady with a lot of spunk and a big smile, greeted them at the door and gushed over Lucy.
“I heard what happened. How terrible for you, Lucy. Are you okay, dear?”
“Thank you, Mrs. Ferguson. I’m fine. Thank you for packing me some clothes. I also got your flowers last night. Sadly, the police had to confiscate all of them.”
“What on earth for?”
Bryce set down her bag by the staircase. “It was a precaution. Someone sent Lucy a threatening message using flowers.”
“How strange,” the woman stated. “Two police officers brought by some boxes for you. They said they were files you requested. I had them leave them down here in the dining room. You’re welcome to use the table if you need the room to go through them.”
Lucy looked over and saw six boxes sitting in the corner of the dining room. The table would provide her more room, but she didn’t think anyone would care for graphic images of murdered women lying around. “That’s kind of you, Mrs. Ferguson, but some of the images may be disturbing. You don’t want them displayed in here.”
“Well, it’s only you and me here. I don’t have any other guests right now, and I promise not to look. There’s also a den in the back of the house. It has doors so you can close off the room. You’re welcome to use that if you’d rather.”
Lucy thanked her again and finally agreed to use the back room. With Bryce’s help, she unloaded the files from their boxes, stacked them into appropriate piles and taped up photos of the victims, turning nearly one entire wall into an evidence wall.
She stared at the images of the victims. Her body ached from the attack and she wasn’t at her best, but she had work to do and she was anxious to get to it.
She had a killer to catch.
Bryce helped Lucy unload the files, then spent the next several hours going through each case. The photos of the murdered women made his stomach roll. The thought that anyone could inflict such violence on another person angered and disgusted him. Yes, he’d seen violence. He’d even participated in it when necessary, but the face-to-face destruction of another person sickened him.
And to think his brother was being accused of these crimes.
“The last three victims all share the same modus operandi. They were all abducted, missing for several days, then found with their throats slashed.” Lucy picked up the photo of Jessica Nelson, the first victim, and his brother Clint’s girlfriend at the time of her disappearance. “Jessica’s case is different. It took place nearly two years before the next victim, and her body was never found.”
“You