He Kills Me, He Kills Me Not

death. We don’t think he cared if they lived or died. He plays a twisted game of chance with each victim, deciding whether to finish them off based on the outcome of that game.”
    He glanced at Logan and nodded, as if to reassure him that he’d withhold the information about the thorns. That was something Logan had insisted on when he’d called the bureau. Having information to hold back was vital for culling out false confessions, or for proving they had the real killer in custody.
    Continuing, Pierce said, “It’s not the killing that excites him as much as the fear he elicits from his victims.”
    Encouraged by the possibility of another witness who might be more willing to be interviewed than Amanda was, Logan indicated the picture of the third woman circled in red. “Did she survive?”
    “Only long enough to answer a couple of questions. She’d lost too much blood.” He pointed at Dana’s and Amanda’s pictures. “Since these two are his first known victims, their case is crucial to our investigation. A serial killer’s first murder is often the one where mistakes are made, before he hones his craft and learns from those mistakes. That’s why we’ll focus heavily on both the Branson/Stockton case and the O’Donnell case. Solving the first may very well solve the last.”
    “Since Stockton survived, do we have a sketch of the killer?”
    Pierce glanced toward the detective at the far end of the table who’d posed the question. “The woman who told us about the game said her attacker wore a hood.” He looked at Logan. “I haven’t seen the Stockton interview notes yet, but I’m under the impression the witness couldn’t identify her attacker, that he wore a hood when he was with her too?”
    “That’s right.” Logan glanced around the table. “She could only describe him as a white male with brown eyes. She judged him to be about six feet tall, around one-hundred-eighty pounds.”
    “Hell, I guess I did it,” Riley joked. “You just described me.”
    A few weak laughs sounded around the table.
    “It’s a generic description, true,” Pierce said. “But you can use that to help prioritize suspects as you conduct your interviews. Don’t rely on the description entirely. Eye witness accounts are notoriously inaccurate.”
    He pointed to each picture, naming the victims and briefly describing the details of each murder.
    “How often does he kill? Is there a pattern?” Riley asked.
    “That’s the one thing that’s consistent with this killer,” Pierce said. “Every summer he abducts two women, usually in two separate attacks. Again, the Branson/Stockton case is an exception since he took two women at the same time. We can only assume he saw an opportunity and took it. Or he might have learned from that first attempt and realized it was too difficult to control two victims at once, so he didn’t repeat that mistake.”
    “You said he kills two women every summer,” a detective called from the corner. “Is there a specific time frame between kills?”
    Pierce shared an uncomfortable glance with one of the other agents before answering. “It varies. The first year he killed his victims three months apart. The time frame changes every year.”
    Logan sat forward in his chair. “Exactly how does it vary?”
    “The time between kills gets shorter.”
    “How much time passed between kills last summer?” Logan prodded.
    Pierce cleared his throat. Logan knew from the haunted look in the agent’s eyes that he wasn’t going to like his answer.
    “Three weeks.”
    “I ’ve answered all of your questions,” Pierce said, as he and Logan walked through the squad room to the recessed elevator lobby in the middle of the back wall. “Now it’s my turn to ask you a question.”
    Logan nodded at several uniformed officers coming in for the night shift. “Ask away.”
    “When can I interview Ms. Stockton?”
    A ripple of irritation shot through Logan. He wasn’t sure why. “I spoke to her this morning. She doesn’t want to discuss the case with anyone.” He stopped in front of the pair of elevators and pressed the “down” button.
    “She might change her mind if you tell her the FBI wants to speak to her.”
    For some reason, the other man’s persistence was irritating. Logan frowned and punched the button again. “I don’t think that will matter.”
    “Perhaps. But sometimes witnesses feel more comfortable speaking to the Feds, especially if they’ve lost faith in