“You don’t know that,” Ray stated firmly.

“Get the word out. Everyone needs to be watching the bridges in their communities. Everyone.”

“Parek just made another call to do that. We’d already sent out one alert, so everyone knows something is up.”

“I need to take another look,” Mason said firmly, heading back to the shed.

“Here.” Ray handed him a pair of booties. He’d already slipped on a pair. Mason covered his boots, thankful that he didn’t have to run back to the supply in his trunk. Parek was pacing a few yards off, talking earnestly on his phone. Mason and Ray stepped into the shed.

“It’s his torture chamber,” said Mason. “Look. He ties them up here.” Under the makeshift plywood table were several large paint buckets. Inside, Mason spotted duct tape and the padding he’d seen on the wrists of the other victims. Surgical tape, scissors, and wet towels filled the other buckets. Some were streaked with blood.

“Here’s what made the blanching on their backs,” said Ray, crouching to get a closer look at the metal daisy. “I don’t know if he had enough time to get a pattern this time. How long did Dr. Rutledge say it took for the lividity to fix?”

“I don’t remember,” said Mason. “Seems like it was supposed to take quite a while.”

“He would have had to kill—” Ray broke off and slammed his mouth shut.

Mason gave him a grim look. “Killed them immediately. I know. And unless he’s got another ring, he couldn’t have put it on both.”

“And there’s only one table. I’ve had the feeling that he doesn’t work that quickly. What do you think the real daisies are for? He’s got the metal ring that looks like a daisy and now real ones?”

“Isn’t it known as a flower of death?” Mason asked, uncertain where his memory had pulled the association from.

Ray’s face brightened and then fell as he thought the statement through. “That does sound familiar.”

Mason nodded and looked closer at the long hair at the far end of the table. It still looked like Ava’s color and texture. But there wasn’t very much of it. He studied the table. Why was her hair at a different end from the short hair? The table had posts at the other end that he assumed were to brace arms. It didn’t make sense for Ava’s hair to be at this end. Unless she wasn’t on the table. A tiny spark of hope bloomed in his chest. There’s hardly any fresh blood. Not at all the amount I would expect from slashing someone’s wrists.

He carefully checked the floor. The room was empty except for the implements of torture in the center of the room. He discovered the insulation around the door had been replaced. Someone had previously ripped it out. Trying to escape? Had the Bridge Killer allowed his victims to be loose in here? Or had one gotten free from his bonds and tried to escape?

Ava.

If anyone could think or talk her way out of a tight situation, she could. She had the training and brains to analyze what her captor was thinking and use it to her advantage.

If she could talk with him. What if she was gagged?

In one corner, someone had torn at the insulation. There was a small pile on the floor, and he saw it’d been ripped from a low area on the wall. As if someone had been sitting with their hands tied behind their back and had picked at the insulation. He squatted and looked closer.

Shiny.

He pulled a pen out of his pocket, pushed the pile of insulation aside, and felt his heart slam into his throat. Ava didn’t wear much jewelry. Mainly conservative earrings and the occasional necklace. But she often wore a silver ring with a scrolling thistle design, and it was on the floor in front of him. She’d told him it was a copy of a ring from a favorite novel. Something Scottish.

She’d been sitting in the corner. For a period of time. Long enough to rip out the insulation and leave a sign that she’d been there. Had she hoped he’d be the one to find it?

Mason breathed a little easier.

Maybe she hadn’t made it to the table.

“Whatcha got?” Ray asked.

He couldn’t speak, so he moved out of Ray’s view and indicated the pile and ring.

“That Ava’s?” Excitement raised Ray’s voice.

Mason nodded. “I hope she sat here most of the time.” He poked at the wall of insulation with his pen, looking for anything else she might have tucked in the wall or left behind. A long stray hair was stuck in the insulation. He let his gaze wander over the carpet in the corner, hoping to find some sort of mark or message. He slowly backed out of the corner, noticing that Ray was doing the same examination of the rest of the floor and walls.

There was no other sign that Ava had been there. The hole in his gut tore wider as he stood over the long strands near the table. He wanted to pick some up and tuck them in his pocket. He glanced guiltily at Ray, and discovered he was being watched. Ray’s expression showed he knew exactly what Mason was thinking.

“I’m sorry, man,” Ray said with pain in his eyes.

Mason looked away. He hated pity.

“Hey!” Parek appeared at the door to the shed. “We’ve got a bridge sighting.”

28

Ava sat on the bridge, her back against the van’s tire as she watched Troy work on the ropes around Derrick’s neck. The ride to the bridge hadn’t been that long, but it was dark and she wasn’t positive where she was. The two-lane bridge stretched over a narrow body of water. To one side she could see a few floating homes and what appeared to be floating garages for boats. On the other side was a boat dock. No people.