Ava pointed her camera at the streaks. “Something tells me he knew exactly what to expect.”

Mason tilted his head at her. “You think he’s in the medical field? Dr. Rutledge did comment how perfect the cuts were on the wrists.” He eyed the bloody tarp. “And it takes a strong stomach to create a scene like this three times.”

“I think the medical field is an option,” she replied.

“Or he had a rural upbringing,” added the police chief. “I could gut and skin a deer without blinking by the time I was sixteen.”

Mason semi-agreed. It’d been a long time since he’d hunted, but there’d been a time when he could do the same. “But we’re talking about people here,” he said, looking at the chief.

The chief shrugged. “Maybe he views these men as less than human.” He scowled at the wrinkled tarp lying in a jumbled, bloody heap. “What was he doing with the tarp? He clearly wasn’t protecting the carpet.”

“He used it to help clean up the body.” Mason pointed at the buckets next to the tarp. “I bet he cleaned up the front of the body and then rolled it onto its stomach on the tarp to clean the back. That’s what the towels are for. And he rinsed them in the buckets. I think he had to have at least one more tarp he wrapped around the body for transport. There wasn’t a spot of blood on any of the bodies at the scenes.”

“But how’d he get a guy that size out of the house?” Ava asked.

“He had to have help,” stated the chief.

Zander shook his head and pointed toward the back of the home. “Look at these faint smears that go toward the back door. He dragged the body. Probably wrapped up in the tarp Mason mentioned. If our killer had a piece of plywood in the back of his van, he could have used it as a ramp to drag the body up. It’d be heavy, but I think one man could do it. Hang on a minute.” Zander carefully hugged the edge of the room as he walked toward the sliding back door. He opened the door with a finger and stepped out onto a small deck. He returned moments later. “I can see a drag trail across the boards of the deck and tire marks in the grass below. The deck height is pretty close to the height of a van. I bet he backed his van up to the deck, used a board, and slid him right in.”

Mason couldn’t see any errors in Zander’s observation. If it was true, it cemented Special Agent Euzent’s theory that they had a perfectionist killer who planned well in advance. Mason looked at the scene again. “If our killer is such a neat freak, why’d he leave this mess for us to find? Murder weapon included. Looks like Dr. Rutledge was right that a utility knife had made the cuts.”

“I think the utility knife is probably the least important piece of evidence left behind,” added Ava. “It was a simple tool for him to use, and we all know there won’t be any prints on it.”

Everyone nodded.

“But this will be a treasure trove for Euzent to study,” she continued. “There are so many questions raised in this room, my mind is boggled.”

Mason took a careful step and lifted a corner of the bloody tarp to get a closer look at a black piece of plastic he’d spotted. “Cell phone.” He looked up at the chief. “Would you go ask Samuel to call Joe’s number? I don’t want to touch the screen.” The man nodded and vanished.

“There’re too many differences here.” Zander scowled. “We’ve got the victim’s vehicle out front, his cell phone, and the crime scene. This doesn’t match up with our first two men.”

Mason disagreed. “No, the only difference is that we haven’t found the first two crime scenes. I bet they look just like this one. What’s different is that he used the victim’s home, and I suspect that was because it fit his needs. It’s already isolated. The first two vics lived in dense housing that wasn’t convenient for murder. Plus it was a long-ass drive out here. I bet he picked the Bridge of the Gods because it was between the victim’s home and his own.”

“Not to mention it’s flashy,” pointed out Ava. “Our killer likes to shock and make a point.”

“Agreed,” said Mason. The cell phone on the floor rang, playing “The Imperial March” from Star Wars. Mason stood and studied the shelves of movies. Alphabetized. Scanning, he saw a large section of Star Wars boxes including the Clone Wars television seasons.

“That music will be stuck in my head all day,” said Ava, sticking a finger in an ear as if she could block the sound.

Mason continued scanning the titles, learning that Joe Upton was a huge sci-fi and horror fan. Mason enjoyed a good action flick no matter the genre, but Joe’s collection indicated a different level of enjoyment. It resembled a teenager’s.

Or a man who’d never grown up and who clung to the behaviors of his youth.

Zander’s comment from that morning echoed in Mason’s head. He’s a hunter with a very specific prey.

Why had he chosen this seemingly placid and introverted man?

Mason rolled his eyes as he saw Michael Brody’s name flash on his phone late that evening. The reporter had remembered their deal. Had Mason really thought the near-genius would forget? He answered.

“You know, Callahan, you could have just called me and told me the name as soon as you found out to save me from making a phone call,” Brody replied.

“The deal was I’d tell you yes or no on a name. You have a name to run by me?”