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

scrubbed a hand across his face. “So maybe not the same guy.”
    Kate took a moment to compose herself. “Maybe, maybe not.” She got up and paced the length of the room and back, then turned to a bare spot on the whiteboard.
    “Back to the drawing board,” Tim said.
    Kate gave him a half smile as she picked up the marker. “No pun intended.” She wrote Similar MO, then under that , 1998, Pittsburgh. Below that she wrote 1999 . “Where was the second one?”
    Tim consulted his notes. “Hagerstown, then Philly and New York.”
    Kate wrote those down next to the subsequent years. Then she added 2002, New Haven . She moved over on the board and wrote, Spring 2012-2013. Under that went 5 deaths in New Haven, remorse indicated, similar torture as 2002 victim but postmortem .
    She dropped the marker on the ledge and stepped back. “Five kills, then a ten-year gap. And five more kills but with some changes in MO. What the hell does all that mean?”
    “Maybe two unsubs,” Tim said. “Second one’s a copy cat.”
    ~~~~~~~~
    Sally had no idea what time it was. How long had she been awake? Four hours? Ten? Twelve? Probably more than four, but less than ten. Her body felt heavy. Her eyelids drooped.
    Residual effects of the drugs he gave me?
    The adrenaline roller coaster wasn’t helping either. She resisted the urge to close her eyes and rest. If she only had hours to live, she wasn’t willing to waste any of them.
    Her efforts to wiggle out of the straightjacket had produced nothing but sweat. She panted against the gag. Panic twisted in her gut. She began to shake.
    Get ahold of yourself, girl , her mother’s voice echoed in her head. No good thinkin’ ever came outta fear.
    She tried to take a deep breath, and sucked in the gag instead. She coughed it out and tried the deep breath again, through her nose this time.
    Her exhale was a shaky shudder. Oh my God, Mama!
    She sucked in more air through her nose, and caught a whiff of her own body odor. Her nostrils flared.
    She had to find a way out of the straightjacket. But her tired body could take no more for now. She sank back onto the pillow, vowing to rest only for a moment.

CHAPTER NINE
    1:00 p.m. Saturday
    Tim Cornelius paced back and forth in front of the windows on one side of the conference room. He ran a hand over the top of his head. Hints of red in his hair glinted in the afternoon sun.
    Kate shared his frustration. They’d rehashed the details of the case, with not much to show for it.
    She glanced at her watch, calculating how much time they had left, how much time Sally had left. Thirty hours, or less, depending on when the bastard had started the clock.
    Tim punched the open palm of one hand with his fist. “Damn, we’ve got to find her. And stop this guy.”
    “Since he may have some capacity for remorse and empathy, maybe a media plea from Charles would get him to release Sally.”
    “I doubt it.”
    “What could it hurt?”
    Tim sat down again in the chair next to hers. “The family of his next to the last victim did that, when we got down to the wire. He killed her anyway, and then the young man.”
    Kate blew out air. “Let’s take a short break. Think about other things for a few minutes. Maybe if we come back to it fresh.”
    “Maybe.”
    “So Tim, tell me about yourself.” She tried to sound cheerful. “Are you married? Have any kids?”
    “A daughter, fifteen. She lives with her mother. I see her as much as I can.” His expression said the divorce was still a raw wound.
    “How long a–”
    “Two years in January.”
    Kate hadn’t experienced a divorce but she’d lost a spouse. She wondered which was worse. Death certainly cut deeper, but there was no sense of rejection or betrayal, just a gaping hole in your life and your heart.
    “Do you get along okay?”
    “Yeah. The divorce wasn’t all that adversarial. She just couldn’t take all this.” He waved a hand around the conference room. “She’s home worrying and