If Looks Could Kill by Heather Graham Pozzessere

Author:Heather Graham Pozzessere [Pozzessere, Heather Graham]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 1587249820
Published: 1997-01-01T16:00:00+00:00

Kyle stayed up late. He plugged in his computer and modem and, despite the hour, contacted Ricky Haines in Virginia. Ricky didn’t care. His wife was a chemist with the bureau, and they were both dedicated to their work.

Ricky sounded a little sleepy, but he assured Kyle that he had been running information through the computer all day, investigating the records of tattoo parlors and trying to come up with some connection in the lives of the four women killed. “Nothing yet, but don’t worry, we’re on the case. How about you?”

“Yeah, I’m on the case. I’m in Key West right now—”

“Key West?”

“My stepsister is the psychic, remember? I followed her down here on a hunch.”

“Yeah, sure. You know your stuff, Kyle.”

Did he? It hadn’t been necessary for him to leave Miami. He’d just been so disturbed, what with the vivid scene in his nightmare and the fact that Madison didn’t answer her phone, that he had to see her. It didn’t actually fall under business. And if the case began to break while he wasn’t even in Miami…

The case wasn’t going to break that easily. Unfortunately.

“Ricky, there is one thing.”

“What’s that, Kyle?”

“They’re all redheads.”

“Are they? From the one picture—”

“I know, you can’t tell. It just appears that she had dark hair. But trust me, every one of the victims was a redhead.” He thought of his stepmother. “Work that angle for a while, okay?”

“Sure.”

He instructed Ricky to modem the most recent information on the lives of the victims into his PC, then said good-night. He sat for a while, studying the records of all four victims. Debra Miller, Julie Sabor and Holly Tyler had all been single, never married. Maria Garcia had been a divorcée. She’d left behind two small children. Her picture flashed on the screen, and Kyle got a sick feeling, deep in his gut. Sometimes he could be analytical. But sometimes it was impossible not to be human, not to feel the pain.

From what he had, he couldn’t connect the women—except for the red hair. They lived and worked in different parts of town. Their jobs were completely different. Debra had been a Miami native, Julie from New York; Maria had been a Cuban immigrant, and Holly Tyler had been born in Minnesota. All that seemed to link them was the fact that they were all redheaded, young, vivacious and attractive. Maybe that was all, and maybe that was enough.

Kyle rubbed his forehead, thinking about the methods and motives of serial killers from the past. There was usually something about a woman that sparked something in a killer’s mind. What was it? Just the hair, the vivacity? Where was the killer stalking his victims? Bundy had looked to college campuses, assured that he would find plenty of young, beautiful women there. But these women were slightly older, in their late twenties.

He was getting nowhere. And he wasn’t nearly as tired as he wanted to be. He just didn’t want to shower, then lie awake tossing and turning all night.

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