“Yes!” Ray punched the air.

“He’s emailing me their license photos.”

“What are the names?” Mason asked.

Zander glanced at his list. “Troy Johnson and Troy Beadle.”

The other three men went back to the laptop screen where they’d been checking the names against Facebook photos. “We already know there’re too many Johnsons to locate the right one,” Ray muttered. “Let’s look at Beadle.” He tapped the keyboard, and Zander went around to look at the screen.

“No personal photo,” said Mason grimly. “Apparently he’s a nature photo lover. Goddamned rivers and sunsets. Ray had marked him with a question mark.”

Zander’s phone buzzed as it received email. He opened the attachments and studied the license photos. Mason moved closer and looked at the screen.

“It could be either one of these guys from what we saw on that video today,” he said after a moment. “I can’t rule out one.”

Zander agreed and passed his phone to Ray and Detective Kenner. One of the men was nearly bald on top, but both had a narrow face shape. Zander didn’t see a way to eliminate one, either.

“Both own white vans?” Ray asked. “That’s a coincidence.”

“Beadle owns two. He’s a house painter, so that makes sense. Johnson owns a small motorcycle repair shop. Again, owning a van makes sense so he can transport parts. Beadle lives out toward Scappoose, and Johnson lives on the other side of the Portland area outside of Sandy. Beadle owns three acres and Johnson owns a two-acre lot.”

“So they both work in rather solitary professions,” said Mason. “And both have property. Special Agent Euzent said they’d have a place where they could hold their victims. And the solitary professions don’t surprise me. Coworkers notice when you’re gone. Work for yourself and you set your own hours and do what you please. In my mind, both fall into the profile.”

“Families?” Kenner asked.

“Both divorced.”

“Arrests?”

“None.”

“And the locations both work,” observed Ray. “Both are within driving distance of the bridges where we’ve found the bodies. The Sandy location is obviously closer to the Bridge of the Gods, while the Scappoose location is closer to the Vernonia bridge. And Carson Scott was found smack in the center. I wonder what bridge he has picked out for his next victim.”

“We need to visit both homes. Tonight,” Mason stated, glancing at the clock on the wall, fidgeting like he’d had a dozen cups of coffee. “I don’t care if it’s ten o’clock. This guy likes to visit bridges in the middle of the night, and we know he’s got two victims. We need to go now.”

“Agreed,” said Zander. “We’re working with Clackamas County and Columbia County sheriffs to get cars immediately on both scenes. They have orders to set up outside the properties and not go in until we get there. I don’t want county cops rushing in without us there. I’ve activated our SWAT teams. They should be on both scenes within the hour. The scattered locations make them a bit far to get to.”

“I want to take the Scappoose one,” Mason stated, studying the driver’s license photos again. “I’ve got a feeling about him.”

“I’ll go to Sandy,” Zander agreed. “Ray?”

“Scappoose,” he answered promptly.

Zander nodded. An odd sense of dread passed through him. He didn’t like splitting up their group, but it made sense to cover both locations simultaneously, as time was ticking by. He didn’t have a gut feeling about either suspect, but he understood Mason’s need to investigate the one that was resonating with him. They had to find their killer tonight.

“Well, shit,” said Kenner, looking annoyed. “I’d go along with you, but I’ve got no reason to be there. Dammit! I’d like to put this one to bed.” The man scowled and Zander sympathized. It sucked to step back when an investigation suddenly grew hot. And this lead on the Bridge Killer was a scorcher.

Mason shook his hand. “You’ll be the first to know what we find.”

“Someone better keep me updated. Now I’m not going to sleep all night.”

“We sent out alerts to every county and city in the area to keep an eye on their bridges tonight and tomorrow night. I think he’s going to try to leave a body. If we’re lucky, he doesn’t know that Ava’s in law enforcement. Hopefully he believes we think some woman has been grabbed and that we haven’t made the connection to the Bridge Killer. Everybody know where they’re going?” Zander asked.

“Yep,” answered Mason. “Let’s go get Ava.” He held Zander’s gaze. “One of us will find her tonight. I know it.”

Zander glimpsed the first light of hope in Mason’s eyes.

He prayed the detective was right.

Mason pulled his car in behind the Columbia County cruiser. A county car sat on either side of a driveway on the narrow rural road. It was after eleven P.M. and the rain had started again. He’d floored it most of the way from the sheriff’s office. Driving the straightest route possible had meant a lot of time on unlit, winding country highways. Ray had spent most of the time on the phone, gathering what information he could about their suspect and passing it on to Mason. He’d even read the six Yelp reviews of Beadle Painting.

Customers were very pleased with Beadle Painting.