Free Lilith: a novel by Edward Trimnell Page B

and Travis covered their tracks, sooner or later one of the “donors”, as Travis called the men, would be traced to one of the dating site profiles.
    The police weren’t stupid. Jessica and Travis therefore moved around. They drew in the men using different profiles and different dating sites. Travis said (and she was reasonably confident, too) that from a police perspective, there was no obvious, logical connection between the dating site activity and the murders.
    A long time would likely pass before the police made any sort of connection at all. Otherwise, it would be all over the news: “The dating site murders” or something like that. And once the media circus started, they would simply conclude that their routine had become too dangerous, and back off.
    But if the police had her actual photos, those photos would be the smoking gun. Her picture would be all over the news, and she would be arrested within twenty-four hours. Hence the photos of Eastern European models.
    “They aren’t my pictures,” Jessica admitted. She had found from past experience that it was usually best to come clean about this inconsistency. “I can’t use my real photos.”
    Mark raised his eyebrows, obviously dubious.
    Then Jessica launched into a rehearsed story about a stalker ex-boyfriend, an abusive man who loved and hated her so possessively that he actively searched for her in online dating venues. He had told her that there would be hell to pay if he caught her keeping company with another man.
    “Oh, great,” Mark said. “’If I can’t have you, then no one else will.’ Is that what he says?”
    “More or less,” Jessica replied. “He doesn't want me to have any sort of a life without him.”
    The ex-boyfriend was a total fabrication, of course. If there had been such an ex-boyfriend, she had no doubt that Travis would have made short work of him.
    “Ah, so that’s like, sort of another thing that you weren’t exactly above-board about,” Mark said. The words came out with a smile, but Mark’s sarcasm was unmistakable. This wasn't proceeding as it was supposed to. When she told most of the targets about the psychotic ex-boyfriend, they practically tripped over themselves to show their chivalrous side.
    “Are you disappointed, though? I’m not the woman in the photos, that’s true; but would you have still communicated with me if you’d seen my real photos?”
    “You’re prettier than the woman in the photos,” Mark said. And for a second, Jessica believed that the situation had been salvaged. “But I’m not happy about the nutso ex-boyfriend.”
    “Well, I’m trying to get away from him.”
    “That’s true, but you got together with him in the first place.”
    Jessica was going to suggest that they simply call it an evening. This was a disaster. Mark Quinn was warier than any of the men she had met on the dating sites so far—even the handful who, for one reason or another, she and Travis had ultimately decided to reject as targets. Strictly speaking, she was wasting her time.
    But then the waiter appeared at the table. He was a young guy; he had the look of a college student. If she called it an evening now, she would have to make a scene. And that might be bad. While Mark Quinn would probably forget his evening with “Lisa”, there was a small chance that someday the police would question him about tonight. She did not want to give him any cause for extraordinary suspicion.
    “Have you made your selections?” the waiter asked.
    Mark tilted his head toward Jessica. “After the lady.”
    “I’ll have the grilled salmon,” she said. “With the au gratin potatoes and roasted asparagus.”
    The young waiter made some notes on his pad and turned to Mark.
    “Sir?”
    “I was going to have the veal,” Mark said. “But salmon sounds good, now that you mention it. I’ll have what she’s having.”
    “Very good,” the young man said. “I’ll be back with a couple of drink refills in a