“I’ve got to get myself back into the game,” she thought to herself.

  Valerie walked by Charlie and shook the hands of the coroner.

  He was a small man with bright glasses and bright eyes behind them. A thick layer of gray hair on top of his head made him appear distinguished.

  “I’m agent Law,” Valerie said. “This is agent Carlson and Dr. Cooper an expert in the field of criminal psychopathy.”

  “It’s a pleasure,” the coroner said. “Just call me Hank, there’s no need for second names here.”

  Valerie was grateful to not have to keep up airs and graces. She was too tired for that. “I’m Valerie, this is Charlie and Will.”

  The coroner nodded and then walked to the back of the room. On the rear wall there was a line of eight stainless steel doors reaching up to about waist height. Hank pulled open the third door, which clanked as it released its holding mechanism.

  He pulled the tray on the bottom, grating slightly as it moved, rolling along on wheeled metal supports. On top of the tray lay a thin white sheet. Beneath that was, undoubtedly, the body of victim number two that had been found in the barn. It shook slightly as the trolley came to a rest.

  The coroner pulled the sheet back slowly. Valerie observed that he showed more respect to the dead than some within his profession. But she didn’t blame them. Seeing so many bodies numbs a person’s emotional center, at least while they work.

  The sheet peeled back revealing the same face that haunted Valerie during the night. The woman did resemble her sister Suzie, there was no doubt about that. But Valerie still wondered if her mind was playing tricks on her. That her wearied mind was seeing things that weren’t there. Seeing things could have been the start of it all. The start of her slide into madness.

  She did her best to shake the thought and pointed to several wounds on the girl’s naked torso. “Hank, have you been able to identify the weapon that was used?”

  Hank sighed. “It was most likely a tool grabbed from the barn. We found traces of rust on the wounds that was consistent with rust found on other equipment in the barn.”

  “Yeah, that’s we figured,” Charlie said. “Is there nothing more specific you can give us?”

  “The wounds have a slight bend at the termination point,” the coroner said. “You’re probably looking for some sort of blade or cutting implement that is arched or curved. But without finding the specific murder weapon, it’s impossible to tell. I would imagine the killer ditched it somewhere else.”

  “Nothing was recovered from the scene, unfortunately,” Will offered.

  Valerie thought back to the tools that she saw lying around the barn. She remembered the fields of thick grass that surrounded the place and mused about how the original founder of that barn, long since dead, would have had to deal with crops perhaps in a more traditional manner. Before the coming technological advancements. Before the bloodied hand of modernity.

  “What about a scythe?” she asked.

  “It’s possible,” the coroner said. “Although it would have to have been quite a small one. A large scythe can cut someone in two. These wounds are smaller than that.”

  “But you did say it was rusted?” Charlie asked. “Could a large scythe that had been blunted and rusted have caused the wounds?”

  The coroner considered things for a moment. “It’s possible.”

  Valerie turned to Charlie. “Get onto the local police department and ask them to be on the lookout for an old farming scythe. It could be a smaller single-handed one or a larger, full-sized and double-handed one.”

  “Sure,” Charlie said, walking towards the exit.

  “Oh,” Will added. “It occurs to me that since the killer was in a hurry and perhaps didn’t initially plan on killing the girl in the barn, he would have had to improvise the hiding place for the weapon. I doubt he would have taken it far with him.”

  “Yeah,” Charlie agreed. “I think seeing someone carrying a scythe covered in blood would be pretty noticeable.”

  “What are you thinking, Will?” Valerie said, feeling that there was more to come from her colleague.

  Will stood in contemplation for a moment, his glasses glinting in the fluorescent light from above.

  “The killer may have been processing the kill emotionally afterwards,” he said. “We already know that he closed the woman’s eyes. If this was due to remorse, he may have been emotionally drawn to another place nearby. A place similar to the murder scene, but unstained by the kill.”

  “Do you mean,” Valerie started. “That the killer may have been drawn to somewhere similar to the original barn. Almost like he would be erasing the kill? Going somewhere similar to the initial murder?”

  “It’s just a thought,” Will said. “Highly speculative, but it would fit in with the remorse angle. And if he was in a hurried, unplanned mindset, he’d be governed more by emotion than intellect when trying to hide the weapon.”

  “Do you think,” began Charlie,” the killer would have gone back to another barn in the area and perhaps stashed the weapon there?”

  “It’s as good a theory as any,” Valerie said. “Ask the local police department to furnish us with other known barns within a five-mile radius of the murder scene. Then get them to search those, if possible.”

  Charlie nodded and walked out of the room.

  “Are you sure the killer was in a hurry?” the coroner asked. “It seems to me there was a level of planning to this. I mean if the killer used a scythe, that’s got ritualistic harvesting connotations to it. Then there was the animal’s trough filled with the victim’s blood as well. That might be like a Satanic offering.”

  “Genuine Satanic killings are rare, Hank,” Valerie said, knowing that if she didn’t, Will would quite happily have given a lecture about Satanic panics throughout history and how they are almost always the product of hysteria.

  “Do you think the location of the wounds on the victim’s torso,” Will asked, “are indicative of a panicked, rage induced attack? Or are the wounds slow and deliberate?”

  “Well that’s a point,” Hank agreed. “The wounds are haphazard. In some cases, they’re pretty shallow, which suggests the wounds were inflicted quickly, and violently. But you’re right, it might suggest something more hurried like in your new theory.”

  Valerie looked down at the woman’s body again. She couldn’t help but stare at her face. The complexion was gray and lifeless, like plastic. But there was something about the chin and nose. Suzie… Valerie thought about her sister in that psychiatric ward. The same harsh fluorescent lighting hanging over her sister at the hospital as here, over the victim’s naked body, in the morgue.

  Valerie wondered if she would ever have to stand over the body of her younger sister and identify her. Would she ever be cured or stable? Would she be suicidal for the rest of her days? Would Valerie herself have the same fate…

  “Valerie, are you okay?” Will said, softly bringing his friend back from her daze.

  Valerie shook herself mentally. “Yes, I’m fine. Just thinking about the case.”

  Will stood and looked at her. She felt his stare. He clearly didn’t believe her. He knew that something was eating away at her. Valerie could tell. But did he know how deep her trauma ran?

  “Okay,” said Will unconvincingly. “What’s our next move?”

  As if answering that question, the door to the mortuary opened. In stepped a young looking police officer, straight from the Academy. He walked nervously up to the agents and to Hank the coroner.

  “I was told to ask for Agent Law?” the man said, his voice filled with nerves. Valerie knew he’d probably never dealt with an FBI agent before. Agents could have an air of authority about them. To the uninitiated, they could be intimidating.

  Valerie tried to settle him down with a friendly smile.

  “I’m Agent Law,” she answered.

  “They’ve managed to identify the victim. Her name is Daniela Mason,” the officer blurted out.

  Valerie considered the police officer for a moment. He looked like he had a thorn stuck in his mind.

  “There’s something else isn’t there officer?” she asked. “What’s wrong?”

  “Well,” he stuttered. “The girl’s the daughter of a local judge. And the press found out she’s dead from a leak. They are already hounding anyone coming in and out of the building for a scoop.”

  Valerie turned to Will. “Can you go and get Charlie?”

  “Of course,” Will answered. “What about the press?”

  “Let them stew for a while,” Valerie said grimly. “We can visit the victim’s family. The killer showed remorse by closing her eyes after the murder. Maybe the family knows the murderer.”

  “Or,” Will mused, his voice cold, “one of her family is the killer.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  Valerie felt the man’s hatred. It seeped out of his every pore. But he had good reason to hate. Someone had just brutally murdered his daughter.

  “You’ve got to get this bastard,” Tim Mason said, his eyes red and his teeth clenched.

  The man’s enraged face and body language were in stark opposition to the pastoral colors of the family room used for bereavements at St Clemens police station.

  “We want to do everything we can,” Valerie said. It was a phrase she had uttered to victims’ families over and over again for years. But she meant it every time. She would do everything she could. To stop the killer from murdering again and to bring the families closure.

  “Just get out there then and find him!” Tim Mason screamed. He then put his head into his hands and began sobbing.

  Next to him, his wife, Janice Mason, cut a more sobering figure.

  “Please excuse my husband,” she said. “It is all quite a shock to us. We all loved Daniela.”

  Charlie and Will sat alongside Valerie. Charlie gave Valerie a knowing glance and then entered into the conversation himself.

  “Janice,” he said. “You’re Daniela’s stepmother right?”

  “Yes,” she said. “I didn’t have the honor of being her biological mother.”

  Valerie knew this was a lie. If grief was pouring out of Tim Mason’s being, it was deception that came from Janice. And where there was deception, Valerie always had to follow.

  “Did you get on well?” Valerie asked.

  “Eh…” Janice stumbled over her words and looked at her husband.

  Tim looked up, wiping tears from his cheeks. “You know how it is with stepmothers and kids. It doesn’t always work out.”

  "Was there ever any conflict between you and Daniela?" Will said, breaking his silence.

  "Me?" asked Tim. "No... Why are you asking me these questions? Shouldn't you be out there looking for my daughter's killer?"

  "They're just routine," Charlie offered.

  "He means we're suspects," Janice sniped.

  "Suspects?" Tim said with incredulity. "How could anyone think such a thing?"

  "You're not suspects," Valerie said. "But more often than not, a victim knows the person who murdered them. It's our job to find out if that's the case here. Can you think of anyone who might have wished your daughter harm?"

  "She was like anyone in their twenties," Tim replied. "She liked having fun. Most people liked her; sure she could be tough, but she'd had a tough life with her mother dying so young. She wouldn't put up with anyone's crap. I raised her well... We raised her well."

  "So you don't think she had any enemies from her work, or from her dating life?" Charlie said.

  "She didn’t date. She’d been with her boyfriend Chris Malcolm for three years," Tim replied. "I didn’t pry into that, though he always seemed like a nice guy. And Daniela would have hated me sticking my nose into her business. She was a grown woman. She kept private about a lot of her life."

  Charlie took a note. "What about her friends?"

  "She was really close to her best friend, Emily. They were like sisters."

  "And what about her boyfriend?" Will asked. “Is he still on the scene?"

  "I read her Facebook," Janice said. "She broke up with him a couple of weeks ago. It was quite the to-do, the way she went on about it. I was surprised she was dating him in the first place. I wouldn't have let my own daughter get involved with someone like that. But as Daniela always reminded me, I wasn’t her real mother. Her boyfriend was a loser. He had a record."

  "What sort of record?" asked Charlie.

  Tim sighed. "Look, Chris is a nice guy. He had a record for fighting in a bar once. He got unlucky, punched a guy in the face during the fight. The guy tanks and hits his head on the ground. Chris would have been sent down for life if the guy hadn't woken up."

  "He's not the type of person who should have been in Daniela's life. Or ours," Janice said sharply.

  Valerie suspected that Janice was more worried about being associated with an ex-con than her stepdaughter’s safety.

  "I just can't believe anyone who knew our Daniela would have killed her... Oh God..." Tim slammed his fist onto the table in front of him out of grief.

  Valerie could see it was taking a toll on the man. But he had to tell them everything he knew.

  "I need you to be as open with me as you can. Where did you last see your daughter?"

  "We all saw her three weeks ago," Janice said, answering for her husband. "We all went out for dinner together. Us, Danielle and… Chris…" There was something in Janice’s tone. She was resentful about that night for some reason.

  "And...?" Valerie asked.

  "What do you mean?" asked Tim.

  “I get the sense that there was an issue. Perhaps after the dinner?”

  “It’s Chris, her boyfriend,” Janice said snarkily. “He completely lost it over the smallest thing. I’m telling you, if you’re questioning people, start with him!”

  “He had a couple too many and got a little agitated with Janice when she pressed him about getting a job,” Tim said. “I stuck up for Janice, then Chris had a go at me. But I know Chris, he wouldn’t harm a fly. He was just drunk.”

  “Did he threaten anyone?” Charlie asked.

  Tim sat in silence for a moment. “Yeah,” he finally said. “Daniela tried to calm him down and then he got pretty angry at her. She was just trying to keep the peace.”

  “What did he say to Daniela?” asked Will.

  “He said… He said…”

  “He said,” continued Janice, “that we didn’t know what he was capable of. I took that as a threat. And I think he killed Daniela.” Janice crossed her arms as though she had closed the case.

  “I can’t believe it…” Tim looked at his wife and then back at Valerie. “Maybe Janice is right. Maybe you should question Chris.”

  “We will,” said Valerie. “But it will hurt the investigation if it’s spread around that Chris is a suspect, so please don’t accuse him of anything and don’t speak with the press. It’ll only muddy the water. Just because Chris got angry one night, it doesn’t mean he’s a killer. But we will look into it. We’ll leave no stone unturned.”

  “Thank you…” Tim said, shaking Valerie’s hand and then Will and Charlie’s.

  The three investigators left the room and walked down a corridor to the back of the St Clemens police station.

  “Thoughts?” Valerie asked.

  “I did get the feeling that Janice was being deceptive,” Will offered. “But it could just have been that she initially wanted to hide that she and Daniela didn’t get on.”

  “Yeah,” said Charlie. “I’d be more worried about Janice making a stink in the newspapers than her being involved in Daniela’s death.”

  “Still,” Valerie said thoughtfully. “We shouldn’t take our eyes off her just yet. But I tend to agree. Let’s do some digging on the ex-boyfriend and bring him in for questioning.”

  “Can we still chase the Wendel Institute lead?” Will asked.

  “I forgot about that,” Valerie said. She instantly wished she had kept that thought to herself. She wasn’t in the habit of forgetting.

  She caught a look between Charlie and Will.

  They think I’m not up to it. They think I shouldn’t be here.

  Charlie opened his mouth to say something.

  “I’m fine, Charlie. I just didn’t get a lot of sleep last night,” Valerie said. As she said it, Daniela’s dead face, a dead ringer for her sister Suzie, flashed before her mind’s eye.

  “I know you’re fine,” Charlie said. “But if you’re ever not, you can tell us.”

  “We’re here for you, Valerie,” Will said. “ I know I might not have known you as long as others. But the three of us have been to hell and back together in a short time. If you ever need to talk, I’m here.”

  Valerie sighed. “I went to see my mother.” The words just came out of her mouth, as if they had sat there waiting to escape all along.

  “How was she?” Will asked.

  “I don’t want to talk about it,” she said, the pain was too great. “But please know I’m absolutely fine to be at work.”

  “And how does Tom feel about cutting your vacation short?” Will’s questions were getting a little too close to the bone.

  “It’s fine. He’s fine. We’re fine. I’m fine. Can we drop it now?”

  “Okay, okay,” said Charlie. “But if you want to go back to your vacation at some point, I’m sure Jackson would…”

  “No,” Valerie said. “I just want to do the job. Now let’s track down Daniela Mason’s ex-boyfriend.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  The faces. The faces. They all looked the same to the killer. The same face he had to erase from the world. The same face that had injured him so badly.

  Adrenaline was coursing through the man’s veins. He could feel his heart thudding again and again inside of his chest. Paranoia bled through his mind. Were the people on the street watching him? Did they recognize him? Did they know what he had done?

  It was mid-day and the sun was high in the sky. He could feel the sweat forming on his forehead. Beads of it ran down from his arms and down his back.