Chapter Two

Avery and Hunter were at the New York City Police Department, discussing the Emelia Joy case. Avery explained to Hunter when Emelia Joy had been in the woods and how long she had played there with her friend before she was murdered.

"Okay, so Emelia Joy was playing near Central Park from around ten to eleven o'clock in the morning. There was surveillance footage of the person who murdered Emelia, but he was wearing a mask, black clothing, and gloves. He didn't want us to know who he was," Avery explained.

"Yeah. And here are the witnesses who discovered the body: Mr. and Mrs. Gopher. They walked up to Emelia's body, and, as you can see in the surveillance footage, Mrs. Gopher called the police and an ambulance. Five minutes later, the police, forensic investigators, and CSI arrived at the crime scene. This was the same morning we informed Emelia's parents of her murder," Hunter explained.

Avery sighed.

"Was there any hair or fiber evidence at the crime scene?" Avery asked.

"Hair was found on the ground. I'm thinking it was Emelia's hair because she was lying there after she died," Hunter explained.

Avery sighed.

"So, her hair was red?" Avery asked.

"Yeah," Hunter answered.

Avery sighed again.

Detective Avery Dexter was built like a hard worker—all he wanted were answers. Why had Emelia Joy been murdered? Emelia reminded Avery so much of his little sister, Mackenna. Mackenna Dexter had died years ago.

"He placed it there," Avery said, his voice barely a whisper and his heart racing as if it were trying to win a marathon.

"What?" Hunter asked.

Hunter Connor, his partner, leaned against the table, his bulk contrasting with Avery's lean frame.

Avery had been on the job for years. Witnesses had said they had seen a van sitting in Central Park from time to time.

"This killer targets girls with red or brunette hair, especially eight-year-old girls," Avery rumbled, but his eyes, fixed on the hair, told a different story.

"The ME's report says it wasn't disturbed. No wind, no struggle. It was laid there like a period at the end of a sentence." Avery continued staring at the crime-scene photographs. He glanced at Hunter, then back at the photographs.

"A souvenir," Hunter suggested, his tone subdued. "Something for him to remember."

Avery nodded. "I can't believe what I'm seeing here. I think this guy is hunting little girls who have red or brunette hair."

Hunter pushed away from the table, moving with surprising agility for a man his size. "Arrogance. That's what it is—the arrogance of a sociopath who thinks he's smarter than everyone else."

"Do you think he's a serial killer?" Avery countered, his eyes still fixed on the hair. "Think about it. I remember my sister Mackenna, who died the same way Emelia did. I also remember reading about an old case from sometime between 1996 and 2006. There were several murders throughout that time frame."

"So, do you think there's a serial killer on the loose?" Hunter asked, his voice laced with the cold sting of finality.

"Yeah," Avery said, ignoring the rebuke, his mind already racing down a different path. "Emelia had red hair. There were several other little girls with brunette or red hair: Samantha Ryer, who was eight; Lucy Mallory, who was also eight; Rebecca Rochel, who was eight; and Daphne Tesla, who was eight."

Avery spread the crime-scene photographs apart.

"I think we're dealing with a serial killer," he said, lifting his gaze from the photographs to meet his partner's eyes. His eyes, usually cool and analytical, were now burning with a quiet fire.

"Well, to confirm that, we need the FBI to investigate," Hunter said, running a hand over his face.

"But what if I'm wrong?" Avery asked, his voice dropping to a near whisper.

"Okay, so this guy is meticulous. He knows the place and the time, and he knows how and when to strike," Hunter said with a grin.

"Yeah. I think we need to be absolutely sure we're dealing with a serial killer," Avery said.

Hunter said nothing, but the lines around his eyes seemed to widen.

Therefore, Avery and Hunter returned to the bullpen. Avery knew what he meant. Hunter Connor slid the manila folder across the cold steel table in the precinct's lab. The brightly lit room was filled with large glass windows.

"Emelia Joy," Hunter said, his voice low and somber. "She seemed like any other little girl. Why would anyone want to kill her? Why would this guy want to kill little girls with different hair colors?"

Avery leaned closer, his dark eyes narrowing. He had looked at a thousand pieces of hair evidence throughout his career, but this one was different. It felt like a live wire, buzzing with some forgotten current.

"The lab hasn't confirmed anything about the DNA on the root," he said, the words feeling dry in his mouth.

"No, but I think the microscopic structure is a little more complex," Hunter explained. "It's a long strand, dark brown, but with this reddish tint at the tip. And the cross-section is unusual. You know, it's more complicated than you might think."

Hunter slid the report across the table, which Avery barely glanced at. He was still staring at the hair, a cold knot forming in his stomach.

"Hunter, I swear, I think this is connected to a serial killer," Avery said, his voice barely a whisper.

The fluorescent lights seemed to dim, and the noise of the precinct faded into the background. Hunter leaned forward, his expression shifting from procedural to concerned.

"What do you see, Av?" Hunter asked.

Avery didn't answer. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small glass container containing a strand of hair. He placed it next to the sealed bag from Emelia's case. Hunter blinked, then squinted as he compared the two. Avery held his breath.

"Avery, what is this?" Hunter asked, his voice low and subdued.

"It's my sister's hair. I kept it all these years while searching for answers."

Hunter's eyes darted from one strand of hair to the other.

"I have to say something," he said. "This is the same type of hair I saw on Mackenna," he breathed, realization dawning on his face. "The color, the autumn tones—even the shape."

Avery nodded.

Was Avery finally able to catch the killer who had murdered his sister?

"The lab didn't identify it," Avery said, his voice hard. "It's an old sample. I never showed it to the medical examiner nine years ago. It was my last piece of Mackenna."

Hunter was silent for a moment, letting the weight of Avery's revelation settle between them. He had known Avery's sister was gone, but he hadn't known it was like this—not that Avery had carried this single piece of evidence with him all these years.

"You think it's the same guy," Hunter said, though it wasn't a question.

"I'm not absolutely certain," Avery said, his knuckles turning white as he clenched his fist. He looked at the sealed evidence bag, his eyes filled with raw, vengeful fire.

"Okay. Then we'll find a medical examiner who can determine whether this piece of hair is still considered evidence," Hunter said.

The end of the story the killer was writing was another dead girl. The silence—the utter, suffocating silence of a carefully executed crime—was the hardest thing of all to break.

"Okay. You know, Mr. Piper makes me suspicious. I understand that he doesn't like Emelia, but do you think he may have killed Emelia Joy—or worse, my sister?" Avery asked.

"Well, if we investigate Mr. Piper, maybe we'll get something out of him," Hunter said.

"Okay. Let's see whether he has any records or anything like that first. We'll also check any additional surveillance footage from the scene. Hopefully, we'll catch this guy," Avery said.

Avery walked to his desk and sat in his chair. He looked up Mr. Piper's records.

"It looks like he was charged with a misdemeanor and first-degree rape of a young teenage girl back in 2005 here in New York. He served ten years in prison and was released in 2015. He was forty-five years old when he was released. Now he's fifty-five," Avery said.

"But nothing about a murder?" Hunter asked.

"No," Avery answered.

Hunter nodded.

"Do we have any other witnesses?" Avery asked.

"Uh..." Hunter searched for more surveillance footage. Then he noticed a man wearing a baseball cap and walking through downtown Manhattan near Central Park, following Mrs. Joy and Emelia.

"This guy followed Emelia and her mother for about ten minutes. Then Mrs. Joy turned around, and the man went in a different direction, almost pretending he hadn't been spying on them," Avery explained.

"Then we should talk to Mrs. Joy and ask whether she got a good look at the guy," Hunter said.

"Yeah. But first, let's get that strand of hair tested," Avery said.

Avery stood up, grabbed his black leather jacket, and put it on. Then he and Hunter walked away from their desks and left the police department. They went to see the medical examiner first.

Avery placed the small evidence bag on the steel counter.

Inside, a single strand of auburn hair rested on a piece of white cardstock, an anchor in the sterile world of the medical examiner's office.

Avery didn't need to read the label on the bag to know whom it belonged to; he had stared at it almost every night for the past nine years.

Mackenna Dexter. Found 11/14/16.

Dr. Aris, a medical examiner with weary-eyed kindness, peered over her glasses at the evidence.

"Avery," she said softly, "I thought this case was an old story."

"Well, it is. It's my sister's strand of hair," Avery explained, his voice loud and shallow. "It's an old sample. I was hoping for a link."

Dr. Aris handled the bag with clinical care, her movements precise. She took the hair to a new, state-of-the-art DNA analyzer—a machine that had been developed after Mackenna's case went cold—and ran the test.

Avery stood nearby, his heart pounding in his chest. He felt like a fifteen-year-old boy in a detective's suit, still waiting for his sister to come home.

After what felt like more than two decades, Dr. Aris returned, her expression one of gentle regret.

"I'm sorry, Avery," she said. "There's no match. No foreign DNA. Nothing new."

Avery nodded, his face a mask of practiced indifference. He took the bag, the strand of hair still a useless, beautiful whisper of the past.

As he walked out, the sterile fluorescent lights of the morgue seemed to fade to black and white, leaving the world as colorless and cold as it had been the day they found his sister.

Meanwhile, Avery and Hunter stood on the front porch of Mr. and Mrs. Joy's house during a post-funeral gathering honoring Emelia Joy.

"Mrs. Joy, we're sorry for your loss. I'm also sorry to interrupt this important gathering, but we need to know whether you saw this man following you around Central Park about a month ago," Avery said.

Avery showed her the surveillance footage of the man following Mrs. Joy and her daughter.

Mrs. Joy sighed. "Yeah. I thought he was following me and my daughter."

Avery nodded.

"Okay. Did you get a good look at his face?" Avery asked.

"No. As soon as I turned around, he started walking away," Mrs. Joy said with a shrug.

"I thought he might have been following me, but I didn't get a good look at his face," she added.

"Okay. That's all I needed to know," Avery said.

Avery smiled at Mrs. Joy, but just before he could walk away, she stopped him and began another conversation.

"Avery, please get this guy who murdered my daughter," Mrs. Joy pleaded.

Avery looked at her and nodded.

"I'll do everything I can," he said.

Avery smiled at Mrs. Joy, and she nodded.

"I'm sure you'll make a good cop," she said.

Mrs. Joy sighed and turned around before walking to the front door. She opened it, walked inside, and shut it behind her.

Avery sighed. Mr. Piper was standing outside his home, in his yard, doing yard work.

Avery noticed that Mr. Piper was looking at him suspiciously. Avery and Hunter began walking back to the unmarked police car.

Avery got into the driver's seat and shut the door. Hunter got into the passenger's seat and closed his door.

Avery put on his seat belt, and Hunter did the same. Avery had a flashback of his little sister, Mackenna, lying on an autopsy table. When the flashback ended, Avery stared blankly ahead.

"Avery?" Hunter said.

Avery looked at him. "What?"

Hunter asked whether he was feeling okay.

"I just need to find my sister's killer," Avery said, nodding.

Hunter didn't say another word. Avery sighed and shook his head.

"The detectives who investigated her case were never able to find the killer," Avery said.

Hunter nodded, understanding Avery.

Avery inserted the key and started the car. He shifted into drive, pressed the gas pedal, and pulled out of the Joys' driveway.

Up until then, Avery had been alone at home. He sat on his living-room couch, reading the paperwork from Emelia Joy's case. He looked at a photograph of Emelia in the file, then closed it and placed it on the coffee table in front of him.

He looked at photographs of the other little girls and stared at them.

He stood up from the couch and headed upstairs before entering his bedroom. After turning on the lights, Avery took off his baseball cap and leather jacket. He began undressing as he walked to his closet. Inside, he opened a drawer and pulled out a pair of pajamas.

After closing the drawer, he took off his shoes and clothes and put on his pajamas. Then he walked out of the closet, turned off the lights, and headed to bed.

It was pitch-black outside, and Avery heard dogs barking.

He pulled the covers aside, sat on the bed, lifted his feet, and lay on his side. Then he pulled the sheets and blankets over himself. His head touched the pillow. The dogs continued to bark.

Avery eventually fell into a deep sleep.

Around two in the morning, Avery became trapped in a nightmare. In his dream, Mackenna was shot in the chest. She bled out after falling to the ground. She screamed as more gunshots rang out. Mackenna called for help and cried.

"Avery!" Mackenna shouted.

Avery gasped as he woke up. He lay in bed, thinking about the nightmare from which he had just awakened. He sighed, propped himself up, leaned forward, rubbed his eyes with his fingers, and moaned softly.

After rubbing his eyes, Avery sat on the edge of the bed, thinking not about Mackenna this time, but about Emelia Joy.

Avery decided to get out of bed. He left his bedroom, went downstairs, and sat on the living-room couch. He grabbed the file containing Emelia Joy's case, opened it, and looked at the paperwork again.

As Avery read the documents, he noticed something suspicious.

He remembered that Emelia had been the same age as Mackenna when she died. He also remembered that Mr. and Mrs. Gopher had made the 911 call reporting Emelia's murder. The detectives who had investigated Mackenna Dexter's case had explained to Avery's mother that Emelia had died the same way Mackenna had.

They had both been eight years old when they died, and both had been shot in the chest.

Avery frowned and thought for a moment.

After closing the file, he sighed. The killer had used different types of guns: a Glock, a rifle, and a pistol.

"So now you think this guy used different types of weapons to kill these girls?" Hunter asked.

Avery sighed. "Yeah. That's exactly what I'm saying."

"Okay. Well, you know what this means, right?" Hunter asked.

"Yeah. I'll need to investigate it. I'm going to call a special agent to confirm it. It's a conflict of interest for me to investigate the case, but with the FBI's help, I'll get more information. Hunter, this is a serial killer whom the detectives back in 2017 failed to identify before closing the case. I have to be one of the people investigating it—you, me, and an agent," Avery said.

"I understand that she was your sister, but Captain Johnson won't like that," Hunter said.

Avery sighed. "I have to."

"Avery..." Hunter began.

"Look, I have to. Hunter, this is my sister we're talking about. I must be the one who gets her justice," Avery said.

Hunter sighed.

"Please," Avery pleaded.

Hunter rolled his eyes. "I guess. But don't let Captain Johnson find out. How are you going to investigate with the FBI with just them and the two of us?"

"I'll figure it out," Avery answered.

Hunter nodded, understanding Avery.

Avery and Hunter sat back down at their desks. They continued investigating the possibility that the serial killer was still out there.

Would Avery and Hunter catch the killer?

Detective Avery had gone to see FBI Special Agent Logan Banner, a twenty-five-year-old FBI profiler in the Behavioral Analysis Unit at his apartment. He and Hunter spoke with Banner about the case of Emelia Joy, Mackenna Dexter, and the other girls whom this man had killed. Avery explained to Agent Banner that the killer might have used the weapons to represent an authoritative figure.

Agent Banner replied, "Well, serial killers who target specific individuals, especially girls like Emelia Joy and Mackenna Dexter, often do so because of elaborate fantasies. The guns might represent different characters. For example, the killer may be directing a play in his head."

Avery took a deep breath and said, "So, you're saying the killer stalks and kills his victims?"

Agent Banner replied, "Yes. When he's holding a rifle, this guy isn't merely looking for a personal agenda or an excuse to attack and kill. He adopts the persona of a predator by stalking his prey from a distance. The rifle represents patience, tracking, and absolute dominance over the enemy."

"Well, I read that some killers suffer from severe psychological problems, such as creating different weapons based on their personalities," Avery said.

"Yes. The killer targets eight-year-old girls with different hair colors because he thinks they're defenseless," Agent Banner said.

"So, what's the best way to find out whether he really is a serial killer?" Avery asked.

Agent Banner took a deep breath and said, "We just did. We have proof here that the guy is a serial killer because he targets little girls and kills them based on their different hair colors. In my opinion, he's a highly intelligent killer. He knows his way around."

"Agent Banner, we need your help. I can't investigate without your assistance. I need every possible piece of evidence explaining why my sister was killed. I believe she was killed by the man we're looking for. Years ago, the detectives closed the case because they couldn't find a single suspect. So, what I'm saying is that I'm reopening the case. But I need your help. Are you willing to do this for me?"

Agent Banner nodded and said, "Yes. But what if your captain finds out you're committing a conflict of interest?"

Avery said, "You can let me worry about her. I don't care what she thinks. This is my sister we're talking about."

Agent Banner nodded. "Sure. Detective Dexter, I'll see if I can pull up Mackenna's old profile. Since this is an old case from 2016, I need to look at the exact traits of the other girls, too."

Avery answered, "Okay."