Page 18 of Keeping Ava
Scanning the picture in front of me, I take in the placement of certain things inside the shot. How his style of operating is twisting a bit. Becoming more than a bit careless.
As of last night, we have another body; the second since she’s been in my care and exactly fourteen days apart.
Another girl that looks so much like Ava it fucks with my head. My vow to capture this son of a bitch myself wavers as the urge to grab her and disappear forms around the edge of my subconscious.
Not that I would, but the thought is tempting. We can’t allow him the chance at another victim.
At adding another state to the already thick case: Texas, California, New Mexico, and now Arizona.
Twelve bodies. Twelve cases to sift through as I wait for the inevitable.
My mind won’t shut down as I look through each crime scene photo, breaking down the similarities and jotting down the new habits.
His kills are becoming sloppy. Desperate.
He wants our attention. Her fear.
Clicking the mouse, I shift to the next set and come to a stop.
You can’t keep her from me.
Ava is MINE.
“I’ll kill him before he lays a single finger on her head,” I hiss out, making a note of the two drops of blood on the bottom right of the note. It’s small, but we need to know whose DNA it holds. At this point, I have to expect the worse.
Was this girl his only victim that night? Where is she from?
Closing the pictures, I open a PDF with vital information on the victim. I scan the document, looking for a picture copy of her ID and stop short when I do.
From: Smyer, Texas (Approximately 25 minutes from Lubbock)
Sarah was last seen with her best friend, Karla Alvarez, walking toward the parking lot of a popular college bar in Lubbock. Both attend the university there and were out with friends celebrating a birthday. Neither made it to their car and security footage is blurry at best; yet, we have the description of a pickup truck that left minutes after the girls are seen stumbling out.
I’m quick to pull up a missing person search for the area from a week ago until the present, and it doesn’t take long to find her. Everything here matches the information given to me in the email—going back and forth between the two, I cross examine the information and realize that no one has connected this dot.
Their focus is on the deceased and not on the best friend. It’s also not on the fact that they were kidnapped in Texas and her body found in Arizona.
But where’s Karla? Do we have a second body somewhere?
Christ. Rubbing my temples, I go back to reading and at the same time collecting info for Perez to disburse to those on the case. Thirty minutes in and I have pictures, social media accounts for both, and the names of a few friends in attendance that night.
We need to find this woman before he...
My eyes scan the pictures from Karla’s Facebook account again and a few things stand out; her hair is bleach blonde with bright blue at the tips, and the eyes are brown. The colored strands are long and wavy, framing her face in a way similar to Ava’s, yet not long enough. Her height is off too. Standing beside the deceased in what looks to be a vacation picture, she taller by a foot at least.
She doesn’t fit his usual choice.
The sudden pitter-patter of feet across the hardwood floors pulls my attention, and I look up just in time to watch Ava walk across the doorway. She’s wearing a white tank top and black yoga pants, while her feet are encased in a small pair of socks in the most obnoxious shade of pink. Awake and grumpy, she mutters something on her way to the kitchen, and I know it has to do with her need for coffee.
The woman is an addict, and I find her adorable. In the two weeks since her arrival, I’ve found myself watching her when she’s distracted. Cataloging little nuances—mannerisms that make her all the more adorable to me.
How her clothes must be folded before leaving the laundry room.
How she’s drunk her weight in coffee every day with no issue or side effects.
How she hides from me because she’s embarrassed of the kiss to my chin.
How she looks coming out of the shower with little drops of water sliding down her soft skin. Moreover, it was my body wash she used that day. My scent on her skin.