SO LONG, page 9
Fiona looked down at the track marks on the girl's arm. "I'm not so sure," she managed. She knelt down and looked into the girl's slightly ajar mouth to see missing teeth. She stood back up again. "The missing teeth and track marks suggest to me she may have been a drug user. We will need to run some tests, for sure."
Lauren's brow furrowed at Fiona--maybe she didn't like that she'd questioned her theory?
"Well, it definitely seems like a sick bastard doing this, anyway," Jake said. "If I had to guess, he's got a backlog of people he's been keeping in his little frozen dungeon. My biggest question is why the hell he's releasing them all now."
Fiona nodded, thinking it over. Maybe the killer had a plan in all of this. Maybe it was about control, or about rousing fear in the public. "It could be a form of control," she suggested. "Maybe he's trying to create fear and confusion by releasing the bodies in random locations around the city, showing that he has power?”
"That could be it," Jake said. He paused for a moment before continuing. "But I think we should look into the possibility that he's sending out a message too, something more specific than just 'I'm powerful.' It seems like there must be something else at play here."
Fiona looked back down at the body, her mind spinning with possibilities. Maybe this killer was sending out a message to someone specifically? Or maybe they were targeting certain people in their community? She knew that serial killers often had some kind of twisted agenda, and they usually didn't act on random impulse. She had studied criminology in school too, and was well-versed in the human psyche, although her skills were rusty in that regard; more often than not, Fiona was simply producing forensic data. But here she was, getting into the psychology of murder. She found her mind spiralling; what if the killer was making a statement? Or what if it wasn’t that at all—what if he were just running out of places to store the bodies so he could kill more? The thought filled her with dread.
Fiona glanced around the crime scene before looking back at Jake and Lauren. "It could be that he's running out of places to keep them,” she said. "We need to consider his motives."
"That's true," Jake said.
Lauren frowned. “You really think his motive could be so simple?”
"Maybe," Fiona said. "But it could also be a way of proving to himself and others that he is in control." She paused for a moment as her mind raced with possibilities. "It could even be an act of revenge, like he's punishing someone or something."
Jake nodded, his eyes scanning the forest as if he were looking for someone hiding out there, watching them. "It's certainly possible," he murmured.
No matter what this killer was up to, it was clear that they were dealing with someone dangerous and unpredictable, someone who needed to be stopped before more lives were taken.
"Let's get this body back to the lab and do some further examination," Fiona finally said. "We might find something more when we can examine it under better conditions."
“Whatever you need, Fiona,” Jake said.
“Yeah, whatever you need,” Lauren echoed, but she crossed her arms and looked away, a sour expression on her lips as she muttered, “Let’s just hand this whole case over to you,” under her breath. Jake shot Lauren a glare, to which Lauren just walked away in response. Moments later, Jake chased after her.
Fiona blinked, unsure if she'd interpreted that correctly. Was it just her—or was Lauren showing signs of jealousy over Fiona? But that didn’t make any sense. A beautiful woman like Lauren would never be jealous of someone like Fiona. Were she and Jake an item?
Fiona shook her head as she watched Lauren and Jake walk off. Maybe she was just imagining it, but she hoped Jake and Lauren weren’t involved in anything that could distract them from the case.
Because that was all that mattered now. Getting the body back, and getting it examined.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Jake's head was spinning as he sat in the briefing room with Lauren, laptop out with photos of the victim taken at the crime scene--and photos of girls from the missing persons database. They had to get an ID on the victim first and considering the last two girls had been officially missing, Jake was sure this one would be too. There was a clear pattern here; the only question was, who was she really?
It was getting late, and they'd been working for what felt like an eternity. Still, Jake wouldn't stop, not until he had some answers.
Beside him, Lauren was quiet again, watching with scrutinizing eyes as Jake scrolled through the list, stopping on an image of a girl with brown hair. However, this one had a full-toothed smile, and as Fiona had observed at the crime scene, their victim was missing her teeth. She also had track marks on her arms, signaling she may have been a drug addict.
"Not this one either," Jake said, leaning back in his chair and sighing. "This is taking too long.”
"Yeah," Lauren said shortly. "Just keep scrolling. Complaining isn’t going to get us there any faster.”
She was right, of course, but he also knew when Lauren was giving him attitude. Something had happened at the crime scene earlier, something to do with Fiona, that had set her off again. Or maybe he was looking too deep into it.
Jake focused back on his work, scrolling through the list of faces, but he couldn’t stop his mind from wandering back to Lauren. He had never meant for things to get so messy between them. He remembered back to when their romance had first blossomed, how they'd been working a late-night case together, and he'd been fighting his attraction for her for a while. At a certain point, he'd seen it in her too--that she was interested in him.
So, he'd made a move.
He'd kissed her right in the office. Then they'd gone back to his place. He still remembered that night clearly; it had been like a dream, as if they'd finally been able to express all the feelings they'd kept deep inside of them for so long.
The way Lauren had felt in his arms, and the way her lips moved against his--it was something he would never forget. He could never get enough of her touch, and when she kissed him, it felt like their souls were connecting. He’d never felt that before.
Even now, as they worked late into the night trying to solve this case, Jake couldn't help but reminiscence. Of course, with every good memory they shared, there were a lot more toxic ones. Lauren had wanted to disclose their relationship to their superiors, but Jake had resisted the idea, afraid it would make his colleagues think less of him. It wasn't against the rules for them to date, but still, Jake had felt--especially due to the volatility in their relationship--that it was best to just keep things private.
He'd been the first to end it, afraid of how it might change any perception of them at the office. Then they couldn't resist getting back together, over and over again over the years.
Now, Jake couldn't help but wonder if they'd ever reach a place where their relationship was stable and lasting. He wanted more than anything to make things work with Lauren, but he wasn't sure if it was possible. Would she be resentful of him for not being able to commit before? Would they both just end up in the same spot, with no resolution?
Maybe his instincts back then had been right. It had been so long now that this dance between them felt as though it had always been their reality.
Jake shook his head, trying to clear the thoughts from his mind. He had to focus on the case at hand, not his complicated relationship with Lauren. But in that moment, he couldn't help but feel a deep sense of longing for her. Even though things between them might not be perfect right now--they could still make a difference together.
Taking a deep breath, he focused back on the laptop screen. He had to find this victim soon, and it wasn't going to get done by daydreaming. He glanced up at Lauren one more time before continuing his scrolling.
He went through page after page of missing women, searching for any clues that might lead him to the murder victim. He read through descriptions, cross-referenced with the police databases he had access to, and double-checked each face he came across.
Then, he stopped on a woman who made him pause. At the same time, Lauren stiffened--and Jake knew she saw it too.
The woman on the screen had similar features to the one in his file; her hair was nearly identical, and she had the same eyes. She'd been reported missing five months ago, which meant it was likely that this woman was their victim.
"Tilda Swanson," Jake said, feeling out her name.
"She looks a lot like our victim," Lauren said.
Jake nodded. "Missing teeth and everything."
Based on her file, Tilda Swanson was a homeless woman who stayed at a shelter in downtown Portland. She had a long history of drug abuse and addiction, but she did have a family.
Unfortunately, they had all but given up on her, not wanting to deal with her problems. She was a woman who had been written off by society, but people had still noticed when she went missing.
Jake read through the rest of Tilda's file, noticing the small details that painted a picture of her life. He also uncovered several accounts from people who had encountered Tilda in the past few months before she went missing. From what he could tell, she seemed like an incredibly kind person--always willing to help those in need and offer them some sort of guidance or advice when they were at their lowest point in life. It seemed like Tilda had touched a lot of lives while she was alive, even if none of them ever got to know the true extent of her story. Tilda was homeless, and stayed at shelters, but despite her issues with addiction, the other homeless people in her life had been grateful for her presence.
Jake looked up at Lauren as he finished reading Tilda's file, feeling sadness but also admiration for this woman who had managed to make such an impact despite her hard circumstances in life. He wished her story didn't end the way it did, but Jake also knew that wishing would get him nowhere. He needed action.
"I guess this is her," he said to Lauren.
Lauren gave a nod, her expression serious. "We should go talk to her family."
***
Tilda Swanson was from a small suburb just outside of Portland. As Jake drove along the winding roads, topped by the dark sky, he couldn't help but feel a sense of sadness as he thought about Tilda and the life she must have led. He wondered what it must have been like for her--to be on the streets without anyone to turn to and no one who could understand her struggles. He also felt a pang of guilt as he thought about how many other people were in similar situations--in desperate need of help that no one seemed willing or able to give.
When they arrived in town, he was surprised by how quiet it was. There was not a single person in sight and all the buildings had an eerie sense of emptiness around them. After driving around for a few minutes, they finally found what appeared to be Tilda's family home--a small bungalow-style house with a lawn that desperately needed mowing and windows that hadn't seen sunlight in years.
Jake took a deep breath before getting out of the car and walking up to the door with Lauren following behind him. He knocked gently at first, not wanting to startle whoever might be inside--it was late, after all, but Tilda's family needed to know the truth.
After a few moments, an older woman who bore a striking resemblance to Tilda answered the door. Their house was run-down, and Jake could tell they didn't come from privilege. Tilda had clearly been through the worst of it all.
"Can I help you?" the woman asked, frowning. Jake could only assume this was Tilda's mother.
"Mrs. Swanson?" Jake asked, and she nodded. Jake and Lauren flashed their FBI badges. "I'm Agent Jake Tucker with the FBI, and this is my partner, Agent Lauren Price. We were hoping we could talk to you about your daughter, Tilda."
"Tilda?" Mrs. Swanson raised an eyebrow. Suddenly, a thin, hunched-over older man appeared beside her with a deep scowl.
"What's this all about?" he asked with a grunt. "Did you find Tilda dead in a ditch somewhere?"
Jake was taken aback by the bluntness--and lack of humanity.
"I always told her those drugs would kill her," Mr. Swanson ranted. "She never wanted to listen. We've just been waiting for the day..."
For a moment, Jake allowed himself to see both sides. He could imagine how frustrating it would be to have a drug-addicted child, how they could have tried to save her, but at a certain point, there's nothing one can do to help someone who doesn't want to help themselves.
Jake wasn't in any place to judge the Swansons. He didn't know their whole life story.
All he knew was that Tilda was dead. And it most likely wasn't from the drugs.
"May we come in?" Jake asked.
The Swansons slowly nodded and stepped aside. Jake and Lauren followed them into the living room, where Mrs. Swanson gestured for them to sit on the tattered couch while she sat across from them in a tired-looking armchair.
The room was stuffy and smelled of old books and furniture polish. On the walls were pictures of Tilda during happier times—smiling with her family at a picnic or performing in a school play. Jake imagined her laughing and joking around with her siblings before all of this happened, before life got too hard for her to handle.
"So, what's this all about?" Mr. Swanson asked.
Jake exchanged a glance with Lauren, grateful she was here with him to deliver this news. Talking to two families in one day was a lot.
"I'm afraid we did find Tilda," Jake said. "She has passed away. I'm sorry."
Silence filled the room to the brim. The Swansons seemed to settle into the reality of what Jake just said.
"It wasn't drugs," Jake added in. "At least, we suspect it wasn't drugs. We believe Tilda was the victim of a serial killer."
"Our daughter was murdered?" Mr. Swanson asked, disbelief all over his aging face.
Jake nodded. "It looks that way, yes. We believe he has killed at least two other women as well."
Jake could sense the Swansons' fear and confusion, but they didn't have time to comprehend what was happening. Jake paused, letting the gravity of his words sink in. He could see the tears welling up in Mrs. Swanson's eyes and he felt a lump in his throat too. This was hard enough to deliver without having to deal with emotions as well.
"Can you think of anyone who might have wanted to hurt Tilda?" Lauren asked. "We understand she lived in Portland and mostly stayed at a shelter."
"Oh, we wouldn't know," Mrs. Swanson managed, holding her stomach with her arms. "I... our Tilda was gone so long ago... her addiction ruled her life, and we just couldn't watch her hurt herself."
Mr. Swanson put a gentle hand on his wife's shoulder as she sniffled back tears. "We didn't keep in touch with her, so I can't imagine anyone who would have an issue with her," he said.
Jake and Lauren both nodded. It was understandable—and sad—that the Swansons had such a distant relationship with their daughter, but it also meant that they had no idea of any potential enemies Tilda may have made. She seemed to be living mostly below the radar, and Jake could only assume she kept to herself for safety reasons.
It became clear that without any specific people in mind that the Swansons couldn't think of anyone who would want Tilda dead.
On top of that, Jake saw no connection between Tilda and the other two victims. They had Jane Ives, the forty-one-year-old nurse. Sarah Zimmer, the young college girl. And now Tilda Swanson, the thirty-year-old homeless addict.
These three victims had nothing in common aside from being women.
Which could only mean the killer had likely chosen them at random.
There were no answers here—none that could point to him.
Jake stood up and handed the Swansons his card. "We will need you to come in for a positive ID soon," he said. "I'm very sorry for your loss. In the meantime, if you think of anything, please reach out to us."
"Thank you for letting us know," Mr. Swanson managed. "I... I wish I'd been a better father. Tilda was such a handful, but she was…”
“She was still our daughter,” Mrs. Swanson finished.
Jake felt for this couple. He could only imagine the pressure of having a daughter. Jake wanted that for himself one day--to have kids and be a good dad to help guide them in the right direction--but he also understood that every child developed their own life chose a certain path.
As they walked out of the house, Jake looked back at the family, feeling a deep sadness for what had happened to Tilda. They were all victims in this terrible tragedy—and it was a tragedy that could have been prevented.
Jake made a promise to himself right then and there—he would find this killer and bring him to justice. No matter what it took.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
As morbid as it was--Fiona was glad to be back in the lab, as opposed to sitting at home and eating eggs. With the victim's body on the examination table before her, Fiona was in her full lab attire, with her gloves, mask, and safety googles on so she could perform the examination. Sometimes, in situations like this, it was best to not think about how the person on the table was once a real person with a life and hope and dreams. She had to view her as a body, something to be examined, not empathized with. This way, Fiona could focus more on her job--which would ultimately bring more justice to the victim.
That didn't mean it was an easy thing to do, but considering her parents owned a funeral home, Fiona had seen many dead bodies in her life. In many ways, she was desensitized, but still, as she examined the thawing body in front of her, she did wonder what had happened in this woman's life.
The track marks were a clear sign of drug use. As Fiona continued her examination, she found more evidence of this; needle marks between her toes, all suggesting that the drugs were indeed part of the woman's lifestyle, and likely not inflicted by the man who had killed her.
What was the cause of death, though? The last two bodies had been so decomposed it had been hard to tell, but this one was very well-preserved. That needed to be Fiona's first order of business: to determine how this woman died.
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