"Ours or the task force office?" she asked.

"Task force. We've got some things back from trace and Nora wants everyone to take a look. Euzent is also in town. He's spent the last twenty-four hours reading what I sent him and would like to meet."

Ava wanted to swear. She'd been looking forward to a quiet evening at home. Mason had bought a bottle of wine at the winery, and she wanted to sit on the sofa and figure out how to solve their wedding dilemma together.

"Yes, I can be there in half an hour."

"What did you think of the winery?" Zander asked.

"Cheryl nailed it. You should have come along. It would have been the perfect time to meet her."

"You found the right place? Did you reserve a date?"

"Lord, no. We've hit another wall as far as dates go. The problem is that this place is only perfect on a beautiful sunny day."

"Not many of those in the forecast for the next six months," said Zander.

"Probably longer," she admitted. Zander's voice sounded odd. "What's up with the evidence? Something big?" Is he holding out until I get there?

"Nothing that can't wait."

Maybe I shouldn't have mentioned Cheryl.

She ended the call and dialed Mason to let him know she was headed back to work instead of home. "Don't you think Cheryl would get along well with Zander?" she asked him.

"Are you playing matchmaker?"

"Maybe."

"They don't seem like the same type."

"They aren't, but maybe that's why it would work. She's outgoing and he's reserved. Sometimes reserved people appreciate being around people who bring them out."

"Or they find them annoying as h.e.l.l."

"I still think it's worth an introduction."

"Zander doesn't seem to be the type who's looking for a girlfriend. He's all about work," Mason pointed out.

"He needs something in his life besides his work," Ava argued. "If anyone knows that, it's you. I don't know how his wife died-do you?"

"No, he's never brought it up. I wouldn't have known he was previously married if you hadn't said something."

"He goes silent and I can feel his defenses shoot up when he thinks our conversation is going in that direction," Ava said slowly. "It must have been very hard on him. I don't know who he has to talk to about it. I think he talks to me more than anyone else at work."

"You're lucky I'm not the jealous type."

"You're totally the jealous type," Ava stated. "You practically growl if someone talks to me in a bar."

"But I'm not worried about Zander. I know he'll respect what we have."

Ava frowned. Mason had told her he believed Zander had feelings for her, but she'd never seen him as anything but a friend. "Of course he will." Her phone did a double beep through the car's speakers. Zander was calling back.

"Zander's calling again. I'll let you know what he says." She ended their call and switched over.

"It looks like we've got another mask murder," Zander said as she answered. "It just happened. We've got an eyewitness on the scene. Put this into your GPS." Ava pulled over to the shoulder of the road and tapped in the address as he rattled it off. "I'll see you there in fifteen minutes." He ended the call.

Heart racing, Ava pulled a U-turn and headed toward an on-ramp.

19.

Ava drove through the Gresham neighborhood on the edge of Portland. City of Gresham police cars lined the streets, and uniforms held back the growing crowds of gawkers. She pa.s.sed two local news vans and wondered how they'd managed to get to the scene before her. During the drive she'd found out the victim was a patrol officer with the West Linn Police Department from the other side of the Willamette River. She parked where directed and got out of her vehicle. Anger and pain lined the faces of the cops she walked past.

Straight ahead a midsize Craftsman-style home waited for her. Looking around, she noticed that every home on the street was similar. The homes were too close together for her taste, but she understood the appeal of the neighborhood. Especially to young families who wanted a good-size home in a development with like-minded neighbors. Sidewalks to easily push strollers on. A small park at the entrance to the development. Neighborhood watch signs. A feeling of community and safety.

She knew a neighbor had called in suspicious activity. Maybe the neighborhood watch program did work. She moved up the walkway, nodding at the officers who waited. She had her ID and badge handy, showing them when requested. This home was decorated for Halloween, reminding her of Louis Samuelson's home, but the decor was child-friendly. Ghosts with smiles and kittens with witch hats. Not realistic blood and heavy tombstones.

Did this officer have small kids?

Her heart clenched for a brief second.

Was he a father?

She signed the log, pulled on her shoe covers, and slipped on the gloves a polite patrol officer handed her. He didn't say anything and she didn't ask questions. His expression told her that what she'd find inside was bad. Low voices sounded indoors, and she set out to find them.

She pa.s.sed a formal living room, noticing a strong odor of smoke-not cigarette smoke; more like burned-dinner smoke-and headed to the back of the house, where she found an open-plan family room and kitchen. Zander and Nora stood outside the kitchen speaking with a crime scene technician who held a large camera. The dead officer was on the floor, a mask clenched in his hand. High-velocity blood spatter covered some of the lower kitchen cabinets.

Ava froze as she spotted the blood. "He was shot?" she asked.

"Nice to see you, too," said Zander. "Yes, he was shot in the chest. We definitely have a different type of scene here compared to the others." He looked at his notebook. "A call was made to 911 at six P.M. A neighbor had heard a gunshot. She stepped onto her front porch while still on the phone with the operator and saw a man running toward the entrance of the subdivision, trying to keep to the shadows of the homes."

"He ran across their lawns?" Ava asked.

"Yes, trying to avoid the streetlights."

"Where's the neighbor?"

"I have an officer sitting with her in her home," said Nora. "I told her we'd take a look at the scene and then talk with her. She has a sleeping infant in the house."

"Who is he?" Ava asked, studying the man on the wooden kitchen floor.

"Lucien Fujioka. Forty-five. Married, no kids. He's been with the West Linn Police Department for nine years. Was with the Vancouver PD before that."

"Where's the wife?"

"Sacramento," said Nora. "She travels for her job. I have an officer trying to track her down and get someone from a local department to notify her in person. This isn't the type of news you break with a phone call."

"No," agreed Ava. She squatted next to the victim and looked at the mask. "This one is from Friday the 13th, right?"

"Yes. The character is Jason Voorhees."

"A hockey mask?" asked Ava.

"In the films it is," said Nora. "This one is made for someone to dress up as the character. It's not an actual hockey mask. I compared it to images online already."

"He pulled it off," Ava commented. "Or did it never get put on?"

"Look here how the high-velocity blood spray fans over it." Zander crouched next to her and pointed with a pencil. "He wasn't wearing it when he got shot. It was in his hand. The spray pattern is consistent from the hand to the mask."

"But it looks like he exhaled blood, too," said Ava. "Which makes sense if he was shot in the chest. Could some of that spray be from him expirating blood?"

Nora stepped close and shone her flashlight on the blood, looking closely. "He expirated onto his shoulder over here."

Ava stared. It all looked like high-velocity blood spatter to her. "How can you tell?"

"Someone explained the difference to me during a previous case," Nora said. "When you look closely, the tails of the blood drops are blunt and the pattern is chaotic and random. That's not what high-velocity blood spatter does. Over here on the mask you can see the sharply narrowed spines of the drops pointing in the same direction-that's what it looks like. I can also see mucus strands in the expirated blood on his shoulder."

Ava leaned closer and saw the patterns Nora described. "Fascinating." She filed the new information away in her brain. She took a closer look at his hands. "He fought back!" she exclaimed. The victim had sc.r.a.pes and abrasions on his knuckles. She squinted at his fingers, trying to see if he'd scratched the a.s.sailant and caught some skin under his nails.

"Yes," said Nora. "Another difference in this case besides the gunshot. He saw him coming and put up a fight."

"But the attacker was prepared with a gun. I wonder if he had a gun with him at the other murders."

"He messed up here," said Ava. "Somehow Officer Fujioka knew he was in trouble and forced the attacker to shoot. In the other attacks, they were subdued with a blow to the head and killed, and then the masks placed over their faces. Is there any evidence that the killer tried to subdue him first? Rope? A struggle somewhere?"

"The rest of the home is very neat," said the female evidence technician with the camera. "I've taken shots in every room, and I didn't see any sign of a struggle. I was about to move outside and shoot in the backyard, but I did a preliminary walk when I got here, nothing out there caught my eye. I've spent most of my time in this room."

Nora nodded. "I noticed the same lack of struggle elsewhere. I think everything happened right here. Front door was unlocked so the attacker could have walked in or been let in. There was a pizza burning in the oven when we got here, so he was making something to eat. I turned off the oven."

That explained the odor.

Their victim was barefoot, wearing jeans and an Oregon State sweatshirt. He'd been shot in the chest. Even on the dark wooden floor, the sight of the large pool of blood was overwhelming.

"A bullet hole leads into that lower cabinet," said Zander. "It looks like he was leaning his back against it when he was shot. And then he slid down to the floor."

"Cowering from someone?" Ava asked quietly. The change in the MO bothered her. Why had this one been handled so differently? Had their unsub been surprised when he entered the home, and panicked and shot? She wondered if they'd find a blow to the back of the officer's head. That would explain his low position. But why the gun?

"Why did he use a gun?" Zander echoed her thought. "He had to know someone would hear."

"Either he had no choice or it was what he wanted," said Nora.

"He wanted the police to arrive at the scene sooner?" Ava asked.

"According to the neighbor, the wife isn't due back for three days. There's a good chance no one would have found him until then," stated Nora. "He could have been here for days."

"But why get us here early?" Ava's brain tried to compute. "Did he want to watch us for some reason?"

An electric bolt struck her.

"What?" Zander asked sharply.

"Is someone filming the crowds out front?" she whispered.

"Yes," said Nora. "Two people. One is filming and the other is taking stills."

"I need to see them as soon as possible," Ava said, as nausea threatened to bring up her wine. Nora headed to the front door.

"What is it?" Zander asked in a low voice.

"Twice I've run into a guy who's asked me about Jayne," Ava said. "He has to be following me somehow."

"How can that be related to this?" Zander asked slowly. "You think he's doing these murders?"

The error of her premise hit her. She covered her eyes. "I'm so stupid. No, there's no way he's done these crimes. When I wondered if someone was trying to manipulate us to a location so he could watch us, I was swamped by the thought of this guy. He seems to know where to find me."

"You're saying you have a stalker." Zander eyed her seriously. "Have you reported this? Does Mason know? How often have you seen him?"

"Twice. But each time he's asked for Jayne. He's looking for her, not me." She felt like a fool for bringing it up in the middle of a crime scene. "Forget I even mentioned it."

Nora reappeared with a tech and a large camera. "Show her what you've filmed so far," she ordered, with a gesture toward Ava.

"It's not necessary," Ava said as the tech placed her camera in Ava's hands with video rolling on the large display. Ava watched as it slowly panned across the faces. The camera automatically adjusted for areas of poor lighting. "Nora, I'm sorry. I overreacted. This has nothing to do with these-"

She froze. "How do I pause this?"

The tech pressed a b.u.t.ton. "Need me to back it up a bit?"

"Please." Ava's nerves tw.a.n.ged as if someone had plucked them. I saw him. I know it was him.

The video moved forward and Ava's finger hovered over the PAUSE b.u.t.ton. There.

She stopped the video and expanded the screen with two fingers, looking at the face of the man she knew as David.

"That's him," she said quietly. "That's the guy who's approached me twice about Jayne."

Zander took the camera and studied the screen with Nora. "Stay here," he ordered Ava. "Nora and I will go take a look." They headed toward the front door, taking the camera and leaving Ava alone with the two technicians.

"Umm . . . do I need to wait, too?" asked the tech who'd been filming outside. "I have other stuff to do."

"No," Ava said, feeling exhausted. "Go get it done." The woman paused, exchanged a glance with the other crime scene tech, and then left.