Free FATAL FORTY-EIGHT: A Kate Huntington Mystery (The Kate Huntington Mysteries Book 7) by Kassandra Lamb

One’s a fifty-two-year-old, single guy, and the last one is a corporation.”
    “Okay, I need the apartment addresses and the names of the owners or managers, and their phone numbers and addresses.”
    “Sending them to your phone. That was just from one of the credit bureaus. I’ll check the others and get back to you. But first I have to finish some research for SSA Cornelius. You guys are really keeping me hopping.”
    “Thanks, Jane.” Julie disconnected.
    “She doesn’t sound all that upset about being kept hopping,” Skip said.
    Julie gave him a small smile. “No, I think she’s enjoying herself. We start with the single, middle-aged guys.”
    “Yeah. Then work backward to the company, and then the couples. There are some sick women out there who help their men do this kind of thing. But remember Judith’s call. First, we find out which of these apartments are on the second floor.”
    “Let’s go back to your truck,” Julie said, “and make some calls.”
    Skip stepped back and made an after-you gesture. “Ladies first,” he said, knowing it would irritate her.
    She froze for a beat, then led the way down the block toward his SUV.
    ~~~~~~~~
    12:00 noon, Saturday
    Tim came through the conference room door, two steaming mugs in his hands. “Sorry that took so long. The pot was down to burnt dregs. I made some fresh.” He set one mug in front of her.
    “Thanks,” Kate said. “Cop-shop coffee is bad enough without it having sat for hours.” She sniffed at the brew in her cup, then took a tentative sip. It was halfway decent. She took another slug of caffeine.
    Tim sat down across from her. “I’ve never quite figured out why the coffee is so notoriously awful in police stations.”
    “Somebody pointed out to me one time that it’s because the coffee maker’s in constant use and it never gets cleaned.”
    Tim stared ruefully at his mug. “Yuck.”
    Kate laughed out loud.
    The phone on the table shrilled, making them both jump a little.
    Tim hit the button to activate the speaker. “SSA Cornelius.”
    “I have some stuff for you.” Jane’s voice, a bit breathless. “I looked into that 2002 New Haven case some more. The police didn’t take it seriously at first. Thought the kid had just run off. Then, after she was found, they assumed it was her ex-boyfriend. He had a shaky alibi, but no physical evidence linked him to the murder scene. So I guess the New Haven police were so focused on him that they didn’t look all that hard for similar cases.” A pause, faint clicks on a keyboard in the background. “I found four other unsolved cases, similar MO, scattered around the area. Going back to 1998, about a year apart. First one’s in Pittsburgh, then Hagerstown, Maryland, then Philadelphia and finally the suburbs of New York City in 2001.”
    “Did you go back further?” Tim asked.
    “Of course.” Jane’s voice was slightly offended. “Back to 1985. Nothing before the 1998 case.”
    “How old were the victims?” Kate asked.
    “Twenty-one to twenty-four.”
    Kate winced at the thought of such young lives cut short.
    She recalled something from a previous murder case she’d been involved in the year after Eddie died. The FBI had a violent crimes database to help find similar crimes around the country. “What about ViCAP? The New Haven police didn’t run it through there?”
    “That’s where I got the connections to the 2002 case,” Jane said. “But the ViCAP database wasn’t completely available to all law enforcement agencies until 2008.”
    “Thanks, Jane,” Tim said. “Send me the reports and crime scene photos for those cases, please.”
    “Sure. Uh, don’t know if this is relevant,” Jane now sounded sad, “but the girl in 2002… Her mother committed suicide in 2012, on the ten-year anniversary of her daughter’s death.”
    A vise closed around Kate’s chest. “Oh my God!” she whispered.
    “Thanks,” Tim said again and disconnected. He blew out air and