Free Aim to Kill by Allison Brennan

Seattle?” Cohn laughed. “That’d fit half the population, including me.”
    She smiled, a wonderfully genuine grin that lit up her face, but didn’t reach her eyes. She was even more beautiful when she smiled, Zack thought. Stop it, Travis. She’s not only your partner, but a Fed, too. “True. I was thinking with regards to the stolen vehicles.”
    “Over fifty?” Zack asked. “I wouldn’t think he’d be that old.”
    “The first suspected case, the one in
California
I mentioned, was over thirty years ago. If he was eighteen when he committed that crime, he would be fifty-two today.”
    “Pervert,” Cohn mumbled.
    Zack’s cell phone rang. He frowned as he glanced at the number. It was the Sheriff’s Office. He flipped open his phone. “Travis.”
    “Detective, Jim Rodgers here. You’re working the two homicides, right? The blonde girls?”
    “Yes.” Every muscle in his body tightened. The sheriff would only call him directly to share bad news.
    “We think we have another one.”
    “An abduction?”
    “A body. Jillian Reynolds, age nine. She’s been missing for nearly three months. And by the look of things, she’s been dead that long.”
    “Why do you think it’s related to my investigation?”
    “She was blonde. Apparently stabbed to death. The body’s not in real good condition due to decomposition, but it appears a chunk of hair was cut.”
    Zack’s gut churned. “Where?”
    “Vashon Island.”
    “I’ll be there in—” he glanced at his watch. If he stepped on it he could make the ferry. Maybe. “Forty-five minutes.”
    “I’ll have a deputy meet you at the dock.”
    Zack slammed his phone shut.
    “Do you need me?” Cohn asked, obviously clued in by Zack’s end of the conversation that there’d been a crime.
    Zack shook his head. “The sheriff’s people are there. But it looks like the same guy, so I’ll have them send everything to our lab.” The sheriff’s department generally sent evidence to the state lab, but Seattle had a top-notch facility and could expedite the lab work. Whenever possible, the county used the local lab.
    Cohn nodded and ran a hand over his nearly-bald head. “Rodgers’s people are team players. We’ll have no jurisdictional problems.”
    Olivia looked from Cohn to Zack, perplexed. “What happened? Another kidnapping?”
    Zack glanced at Olivia and for a split second thought he saw rage in her eyes. Rage tinged with fear. Then it was gone, like an opaque shield sliding down. She grabbed her briefcase off Cohn’s desk, all business, cool and detached.
    “Three months ago,” Zack told her. “They just found her body.” He led Olivia from the lab to the parking garage.
    “Three months . . .” Olivia paused in her stride and stumbled. When Zack caught her elbow to steady her, she tensed under his touch. “Thanks,” she mumbled, but moved away from him. “Three months,” she repeated. “That means Michelle Davidson was his third Seattle victim.
    “Zack, I don’t think I pointed it out when we were reviewing the cases, but he only kills four girls in each city he hits. If we don’t get him now, we’ll lose him.”
     
    Vince Kirby ran a hand through his short-cropped hair before hitting SEND on the e-mail to his editor.
    Now, he couldn’t take it back.
    The Seattle Slayer? Corny. And it didn’t sit well with Kirby. These were kids who were murdered. He didn’t feel comfortable sensationalizing their deaths.
    Well, if Bristow wanted to fire him, fine. But Kirby wouldn’t stand for major editorial changes under his byline. Not anymore.
    The biggest problem was Zack Travis. When he read the paper tomorrow morning and saw the sub-headline SPD fumbling investigation , he’d blame Kirby, no doubt.
    Why did Kirby even care? He’d tried to explain to Travis a half-dozen times that he didn’t write all his stories the way they came out in print.
    But Travis had been important to Amy, and that made him important to Kirby.
    Kirby reached