Free Detective Wade Jackson Mystery - 02 - Secrets to Die For by L. J. Sellers

2006, and Amy Hastings attended in 2007 and took mostly creative writing classes.”
     
    Evans made a line down the middle of the board and started listing the rape victims’ profiles on the right. Jackson still thought Gorman had likely killed Raina, but if there was a connection between these cases, this was the best way to see it. Maybe Gorman was also their rapist.
     
    The door pushed open and Victor Slonecker, the district attorney, strode in, late as usual but perfectly groomed. He flashed a sincere smile. “Sorry to be late. Don’t backtrack for me. I’ll catch up.”
     
    Jackson knew how this would go. He turned to Quince. “What else?”
     
    Quince shifted and frowned at his notes. “When I typed it all up, I was surprised by how little I knew about each woman.” He shook his head. “But here’s what I have. Williams is African American and lives alone in a condo off Timberline in southwest Eugene. She works as a dental assistant for Bailey Hill Family Dental, which is not far from her house. The rapist came into her home through an unlocked back door and attacked her in the kitchen. She was listening to her iPod and didn’t hear him.”
     
    “You’re talking about the unsolved rape cases? Was the homicide victim raped?” This was how Slonecker got caught up. “I thought you had a suspect in custody.”
     
    “We do have a suspect,” Jackson said, “but all we have that ties him to the victim, so far, is association and proximity. Raina was also raped, so we’re exploring the possibility that her homicide was committed by the serial rapist.”
     
    Slonecker nodded, then caught Jackson with his intense dark eyes. “Any surprises? Is the suspect anyone I should care about?” The DA was on a career path toward state attorney general and didn’t intend to let anyone else’s mistakes derail him. Last fall’s murdered schoolgirls case and its high-profile killer were still generating political fallout, so Slonecker was a little paranoid now.
     
    “No, sir. Gorman is just another loser meth addict,” Jackson said. He turned to Quince. “Tell us about Amy Hastings.”
     
    Quince gave them a brief run-down. “She’s twenty-two and lives near the University of Oregon in a house she shares with two other women. She works nights as a bartender at the Black Forest and spends her days writing. She was attacked on the Amazon jogging path on a Monday evening, three weeks after Williams was raped.”
     
    The pizza arrived, so they took a break and ate the thick slices without benefit of a table or plates. It wasn’t pretty. Between bites, Jackson outlined for Slonecker everything they’d found at the scene where Raina’s body had been left. The DA asked a few cursory questions, then hurried out on his way to another meeting. Jackson felt uncomfortably full, so he put down his third piece of pizza and decided to wrap up.
     
    “Evans, find out everything you can about Raina. Talk to her grandmother and her friends. Find out if she ever saw a counselor. I’ll interview the rape victims, then we’ll compare notes.” He turned to Schak. “Check in with the evidence techs. I want to know about the flat tire, when and why it happened. See if they found anything interesting in the car.”
     
    “Anything for me?” Quince wanted to know.
     
    “Pull together your list of rape suspects with a brief profile for each and e-mail it to me.”
     
    “Will do.”
     
    When Jackson stood, his chest tightened in a painful squeeze. The sensation passed as quickly as it came. This was becoming a pattern with stressful cases when he consumed too much caffeine and didn’t get enough sleep. He’d been working on lowering his cholesterol, but clearly that wasn’t enough.
     
    “Are you okay?” Evans asked
     
    “Peachy.”
     
    Jackson went back to his desk, thinking he would call Stevens in the Portland FBI office again, then head over to the jail and interrogate Gorman one more time. As he dialed, he