The Housewife Killer (Ava James FBI Mystery Book 14) by A.J. Rivers

Author:A.J. Rivers [Rivers, A.J.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: A.J. Rivers
Published: 2024-07-05T00:00:00+00:00

Copycat, or Not

Ava huffed in exasperation as Jason gave his opinion on yet another file. Running her hand over her hair, she paced the kitchen and dining room while he sat at her small table in the kitchen.

“Okay, then maybe Carl Jackson is the copycat,” she said.

“Why would you say that?”

“Because there are more cases in the copycat stack than in the Housewife Killer stack. Wouldn’t that logically make the one you’re calling the copycat the real deal? The real Housewife Killer? It’s like Carl Jackson was copying another killer’s work. Perfecting it in a way.”

He frowned deeply and shook his head but did not look wholly convinced. “Not necessarily. Maybe we’re looking at two totally different killers here. Maybe there is no copycat killer. Maybe there’s Carl Jackson, the Housewife Killer, who does hair, makeup, nails, clothes, and poses on his victims to transform them into something completely different. From whores to ideal housewives. And then the other guy, who just likes to put makeup on dead whores.”

Ava spun at the use of the word whores. She hated how he had phrased the sentence, but they were both tired, and she understood his angst to a degree. She didn’t like being wrong, either, but she liked even less that justice might not come for any of the many victims staring up at her from gruesome crime scene photos.

“They weren’t all prostitutes, Jason. Maybe less than half of them were sex workers.”

“Trust me, with the amount of drug charges they all racked up, they were. And you can call them whatever makes you feel better, but in the end, it all means the same thing, and we both know it.”

“Just because someone has an addiction problem doesn’t automatically make them—” She bit her lip. “We’re getting off-track here.”

“You’re getting off-track. You’re acting like these were your friends and family.” He motioned roughly toward the stacks and scoffed.

He had never spoken so crassly before. Was he that tired, that burned-out with the case already?

“No, I’m acting as if they were real people, and that they meant something to someone. Each one of these files represents a real person going through real struggles. They were wives, mothers, sisters—”

“But not yours, and you’d be wise to remember that. You can’t take every case personally, Ava.” He sighed and held up both hands, palms toward her in a surrender gesture. “Okay, you are taking this way too personally, and I simply cannot, and will not. I have a job to do, and sometimes that means divorcing myself and my personal feelings from what I’m looking at. Do you understand that? I’m not being cold, just cautious.”

“I understand perfectly,” Ava said. His eyes were cold, though, and so was his manner. “I remove myself from the cases as far as I can and still remain effective. I don’t want to ever look at a crime scene photo and say, ‘Oh, it’s just another day on the job. She’s nobody special. Just a number.’ If that’s wrong of me, then I guess I’ll always be wrong.

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