Until Dark - Mariah Stewart [5]
“Why?”
“Similarities between the victims, the nature of the crimes, the manner in which the bodies were disposed of, in such a way that it was clear the women had served their purpose, were no longer of any value to him. DNA from the first victim matched that found on the second. They haven’t had time to finish testing the latest vic yet.” He paused, then asked, “Did I mention that all three women had been raped?”
She shook her head no.
“The DNA was run through CODIS,” he added, “but there were no hits.”
“Which only means he hadn’t previously committed a crime that would have put his DNA in the national database.”
“True enough. Neither of the first two women had any other injuries, by the way. No excessive bruising, no marks that I could see from the photos, other than the strangulation marks at the neck.”
“Interesting.”
“Everyone seems to think so. Kathleen Garvey was found outside a little town called Deal, about twenty miles from Lancaster. According to the police report she’d last been seen talking with a man outside the sporting goods store in the center of town. Forty-eight hours later her body was found in the Dumpster behind the shop. An artist was brought in to prepare a sketch of the man she’d been seen with, but it isn’t all that great.”
“Can we get copies of the statements from the witnesses to see how they described him? And a copy of the sketch?”
“I have them.”
Kendra glanced at the driveway and the shiny silver Audi sports coupe that sat there, sassy as hell with its top down.
“Not exactly standard issue,” she noted.
“I had a lot of road to cover in a short period of time. Standard issue doesn’t always cut it. Besides, I was on my own time when I left Virginia on Monday.”
Kendra climbed the stairs to the back door, then paused on the top step.
“Get your files and bring them in. Let’s see what you have.” She stepped into the house, letting the screen door close behind her.
Adam crossed the yard in long strides, opened the trunk, and lifted out his briefcase. Lola, no longer distracted by the hose, followed behind, tail wagging, until a squirrel caught her eye and she took off in the direction of the dirt road.
“This is a really interesting place you have here.”
At six feet four inches, Adam had to duck as he passed through the doorway between the back porch and the kitchen.
“Thanks.” Kendra watched Adam’s eyes gaze upwards as if to assure himself that he could stand up without the top of his head brushing the ceiling. “It was built by my father’s family.”
“Must have been at least two hundred years ago, judging by the height of the ceilings.”
“Very close,” she told him, “1768.”
“Would it be rude to ask why anyone would have built out here in the woods, in the middle of nowhere, two hundred years ago? What was the attraction?”
Kendra laughed.
“Iron. My great-great-great-grandfather—there may have been a few more greats in there—had a forge that used bog iron to make cannon as well as cannonballs, some of which were used, the story goes, by Washington’s troops at Valley Forge. Back then, this wasn’t the middle of nowhere. Two hundred years ago, Smith’s Forge was a town of over five hundred people, though there are fewer than one hundred fifty now. “
“I guess I blinked and missed the town on my way through.”
“You didn’t have to blink. After the iron industry moved from the area, many of the towns were pretty much deserted. Over the years, the woods took over.”
“What happened to all the buildings?”
“Burned, many of them.” Kendra took two glasses from a cupboard and a pitcher of iced tea from the refrigerator. “We have an inordinate number of forest fires in the Pines. It’s just a fact of life here. And actually, some of the plant life here depends on it, needs the high heat to germinate. But once the fires start, they’re often difficult if not impossible to control.”
“What saved this house?”
“As the realtors say, location, location, location. We’re on the outer edge of the Pines, and on the opposite side of a large lake from the