“He has a BMW Three Series registered. And it was at his place when we were there,” Ava added. “Had you seen the Explorer before, McKenna?”

“I don’t think so. Seems like he usually drives the BMW.”

Zander pulled out his phone and stepped out of the room.

“He’s requesting the lot at Carson’s condo be checked for the vehicle,” Ava explained to McKenna, who nodded.

Zander immediately stuck his head back inside. “We’ve got another body hanging from a different bridge. Let’s go.”

“We’re in the middle of nowhere,” muttered Ava. She pulled her coat collar tighter around her neck. It had to be ten degrees cooler out here than in the bustling city of Portland.

This time their killer had picked a quiet country bridge instead of the busy center of the biggest city in Oregon. It’d taken her over an hour to drive to the location. Several things were consistent with the first murder. The victim was a white male who appeared to be in his thirties. He was naked, hanging off the bridge, hands and feet bound, and had the odd circular daisy pattern on his back. The main differences were the rural location and the ball gag in the victim’s mouth.

Kids in the rural city of Vernonia had found the body two hours before. The bridge stood in a quiet wooded area on the edge of town. It was a typical-looking, green-painted metal truss bridge that supported two lanes of traffic. A narrow concrete sidewalk lined each side and gave a leafy view of a microscopic creek below.

Small crowds of locals had gathered behind the yellow tape at each end of the bridge, watching the FBI, the Oregon State Police, and the tiny Vernonia police force. Ava counted four Vernonia police officers and wondered if that was the extent of the department. The local officers seemed to gravitate toward Mason, asking him questions about the Portland death, and tiptoeing around her and Zander, who wore jackets with FBI emblazoned across the back.

It must have been his cowboy hat and boots. More familiar.

Ava focused on the victim at her feet.

Do we have a serial killer?

The question reverberated in her head.

Generally the definition of a serial killer included three victims. But the common elements between the two deaths had Ava wondering who was next. “Did anyone recognize him?” she asked the local cop behind her. He didn’t look older than twenty-three, and she attributed the lack of color in his face to the sight of the body. He shook his head and swallowed hard before speaking.

“No, ma’am. We all took a good look and no one knows him. Between the four of us we know most folks around here. He’s not a politician? We figured he’d be another famous guy.”

Ava carefully studied the face, seeking something familiar. Death steals the character and leaves its victim an empty shell. The physical features remain, but the personality is gone and with it his essence, that vital piece of the person that distinguished him from the masses. Death evens out the playing field.

She didn’t recognize him.

“He doesn’t look familiar to me, either,” said Seth Rutledge. The medical examiner was beside her on one knee, peering closely at the ball gag.

“You didn’t mind the drive out here to examine this case?” she asked him.

“Heck no. As soon as I heard another guy had been hung from a bridge, I wouldn’t let anyone else come. This one’s piqued my curiosity.”

She understood how he felt.

“What do you see?” Ava asked the doctor, wanting his first impressions.

“It’s a lot like before. It appears to be the same type of tape and padding around the wrists. I checked and his wrists were slit in the same way as the first body,” Dr. Rutledge said grimly. “The lividity is on his back, so once again he was undisturbed while he lay on his back for several hours after he died. And you saw the blanched floral pattern, right?” He glanced to see her nod and went on. “It’s similar to the one on Carson Scott’s back. What’s new is the ball gag. I don’t want to take it out until we have him back in the office.”

“Seen many of those?” Ava asked quietly.

Dr. Rutledge gave her an amused glance. “Every time I think I’ve seen it all, something new surprises me. People cram anything in every possible orifice. But yes, I’ve seen ball gags. Not always in the mouth.”

Ava snorted. “Nice. Thanks a lot. There’s a mental picture I can’t get rid of.”

“It adds a sexual element to the crime that wasn’t present at the other. Although the tied hands and feet could also indicate an interest in bondage that I hadn’t considered at the Scott autopsy. There wasn’t any sign of sexual activity with Scott,” added Dr. Rutledge. “Of course I’ll check to see if the killer took it further than is at first obvious here.”

Rape? Her stomach churned.

Mason squatted on her other side. “The local police say there aren’t any cameras around, and so far no one claims they saw a vehicle stopped near the bridge. I told them to ask about vans passing through, saying it’s a logical vehicle for transporting a body. I didn’t tell them white. I don’t think we should put that fact out yet.”

“Agreed,” said Zander from the other side of the body. “If we have to, we can distribute the video of the Fremont Bridge to the networks, but doing it this early is going to create a mudslide of false white van sightings.”

“Any idea on the time of death, Dr. Rutledge?” Mason asked.