The Facebook Killer by Don Weston

Author:Don Weston [Weston, Don]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780996864701
Publisher: Turpin Publishing
Published: 2015-11-13T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter 17

IT WAS SATURDAY AND Steve was working overtime on his serial killer case at the new FBI headquarters near the Portland Airport. I called and arranged to meet him for lunch a few blocks away at Dave’s Famous Barbeque at the Cascade Station mall.

He was sitting in a wooden booth with a police report, ignoring a plate of half-eaten hot wings when I joined him.

“So, am I back in your good graces?” he said, not looking up.

“Depends,” I answered.

“I don’t have any time this afternoon, but . . .” He laid the report on the table and grinned at me.

“You have a one-track mind,” I said. “I wanted to meet you because I might have a lead in your serial killer case.”

“Does this have anything to do with your Facebook theory?” His eyes dropped to his report and he flicked a page.

“In a way. But it’s completely by accident. I was reading a Facebook post on a different case and I sort of stumbled upon something.”

He kept reading.

“A missing white female adult. She met a guy at the bar last night and ditched her friends without a word. She didn’t show up for work this morning and her companions found her car where she left it at The Outrigger.”

“The Outrigger’s in Vancouver.” He squinted at his report. “Not my jurisdiction.”

“Janet Domingo lives in Portland. She works downtown. She missed work and her friends haven’t heard from her. She’s been missing for fifteen hours now and her friends are worried.”

“Does she have a family?”

“They live back East. I don’t think they know anything about her disappearance.”

“She hasn’t been gone long enough unless there’s a reason to believe she’s in danger,” he said.

“You and I both know there’s not a required wait time before the police can start looking for a missing person,” I said.

“You and I also know people get distracted and forget to call their friends and family.” He pushed the report aside and winked at me. “Sometimes they even run off and get married without telling anyone.”

This was one of Steve’s not-so-subtle hints that we should run away and tie the knot. I’m not so sure about our relationship so I ignored his comment.

“My gut tells me there’s something wrong here. If you won’t . . .”

“Settle down. Do you have her friends’ contact information?”

“You will follow up on this?” I jotted down the names and numbers of Janet Domingo’s fellow clubbers from my notes.

“I’m busy this afternoon, but I’ll give it to one of my detectives. You’re not making it easy for me. We’ll have to call the Vancouver PD and get them involved and they’re going to have the same reservations I do.”

“You can tell them it’s a priority case.”

“There’s an FBI liaison over there. I’ll let him know it might be related.”

“Thanks.” I stood and gave him a peck on the cheek.

“Is there something else?” he said. “You seem . . . somewhat agitated.”

“There is something nagging at me, but it’s kind of complicated, and I don’t know if I can explain it to you right now.

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