Page 21 of Dead Drift

“You looked into his findings?”

“Of course.”

“And?”

“In almost all of the cases, the police narrowed in on a suspect—boyfriend or lover the young lady was meeting for a late-night rendezvous, but she supposedly never made it to the meet-up or never returned home after it.”

Like Jenna had disappeared on the way to meet Parker. “And reexamining the cases while considering that similarity didn’t bring any new leads?” Griff asked.

“If anything, it only convinced me more that there isn’t a single killer.” Thornton exhaled. “Not with each case having a different lead suspect.”

“So all the boyfriends were different? There was no possibility one of the guys met up with more than one of the women?”

“Nope. All different men, and after reassessing the cases, I concluded there was no evidence to warrant reopening any of them.”

“What about Burke’s key words?”

“Murders with similar circumstances occur all the time. It doesn’t automatically indicate a single killer. Lots of women are killed with a large-caliber weapon. Lots are raped, I’m sorry to say. I’m sure you could search out each word singularly and you’d find hundreds of cases with hits.”

Perhaps for one or two similarities, but the combination that repeated— meeting up with a man, bound wrists, rape, large-caliber round, dumped in water—could hardly be a coincidence. If one of the boyfriends wasn’t the killer, then perhaps they needed to look at the circumstances differently. Maybe the fact the girls were meeting men late at night had sparked the killer’s motive or interest.

“Look,” Thornton said, raking a hand over his head, “even if there is one killer—which I highly doubt—the fact is, we have absolutely no idea who it could be or any concrete leads to follow.”

His hardened expression softened as he leaned forward, resting his hands on the desktop. “I hate that those women are dead, and I hate that their cases are cold, but there’s nothing more I can do at this point. I have too many active cases on my desk—boss’s orders. Any further work is going to have to be on your end, but I should warn you, I honestly believe you’re headed for a dead end.”

As they exited the Houston federal building, Finley released a belabored exhale. “Well, that was helpful.”

Griffin shook his head as he opened the car door for his wife. “I don’t believe all the cases’ leads are cold. With Burke’s enthusiasm for pursuing them, there has to be something there.”

Finley clasped his hand when he climbed into the rental car beside her. “Thornton may have given up on Chelsea and the rest of the women, including Jenna, but we won’t.”

He cupped her soft cheek and kissed her, then pulled back and warmed at her smiling face. “Thank you.”

Her nose crinkled. “For what?”

“Standing by my side and fighting as hard as I am to find Jenna’s killer.”

“We’re in this together.” She squeezed his hand. “And who knows, maybe we’ll get more help from our other interviews.”

“We can pray,” Griffin said, starting the car and pulling out of the lot, headed straight for Eason and Hood’s office about an hour and a half southwest. “Hood and Eason worked Ashley Carson’s case—the one just prior to Chelsea Miller’s.”

Luke took the rear as their small group headed back to Declan’s office following the task force briefing.

Everyone was stone silent, rocked to the core no doubt by the information Luke had shared.

Same with all the agents in the briefing room as he’d wrapped up. Stunned expressions blanketed their faces as they’d exited the briefing.

He wished he could say he hadn’t meant to scare them, but he absolutely had. With Isaiah Bedan in the country, six ounces of anthrax at his disposal, and Ebeid’s nearly unlimited funding, they should all be alarmed at what Bedan could concoct.

Something terrifyingly momentous was coming. So far, they’d been unable to locate Bedan or the anthrax, and it was beyond frustrating that the FBI didn’t have enough concrete evidence to arrest Ebeid, or at least to question him about his role in it all. Ebeid excelled at evading legal connection to his men, but the Bureau needed to take a lesson from the CIA and be willing to cut through the mounds of red tape. Better to ask for forgiveness than permission. At least that’s what his overseas handler had always said before a mission. Luke had lived by that motto for longer than he cared to admit, but he wasn’t in that world anymore. He had to keep that in perspective. He was on U.S. soil. He was home, though he doubted the word home still applied.

Once they were all inside Declan’s office, Kate shut his door behind them. This would be his team until Bedan and Ebeid were stopped.

“Okay,” Kate said, sitting on Declan’s black sofa, one leg bent and hugged to her chest. “Tell us what you really think.”

“Meaning?” He cocked his head as he leaned against the wood-paneled wall, arms linked across his chest.

“Meaning, as frightening as everything you laid out in there was, you’re holding back.”