Drained by E.H. Reinhard Read Free Book Online Page A

with you on everything.”
    “Okay,” he said.
    “What does your gut tell you on these latest victims?” I asked.
    Andrews looked at me. “You want my take on it?”
    I nodded.
    “Well, I looked over what had been put together on this investigation, including the files from the prior homicides. There’s a reason behind the draining of blood. What it is, I don’t know. It’s an odd way to kill someone. I’ve been looking into that angle. The blood was drained by inserting needles into the main arteries. It’s not how a mortician would do it. I want to think that there may be something there, but we came up empty on that front.”
    “I did a fair amount of research on the same,” Beth said. “I didn’t get anywhere with it either. As far as I can tell, it’s just this guy’s method of killing.”
    “Same thing I was thinking,” Andrews said. “The stomach contents from the autopsy reports are all the same with these latest victims. Alcohol and some kind of bow-tie pasta that’s barely digested, meaning they were killed shortly after eating.”
    Beth nodded. “These victims trust this guy. It’s the only way he could get away with drugging them. There’s too much Rohypnol for this to be in a public setting, meaning they have to be alone with him somewhere. And if it’s the same food, that means he’s cooking it.”
    I nodded, agreeing. “How hard did you guys dig into each woman’s personal life?” I asked.
    “We worked it. There’s nothing that really sticks out. We pulled bank records, phone records, e-mails.”
    “And nothing at all?” I asked. “No cell-phone GPS tracking?”
    “Nope. The only cell phone we found was Jasmine Thomas’s, and it was completely dead. We have our tech team looking into it, but so far, we can’t do anything with it.”
    “What do you mean dead?” I asked. “Like dropped in water?”
    “We don’t know. It doesn’t function. It’s going to have to be disassembled and gone through,” Andrews said.
    “What about ping triangulation to get a general area? Common places the signal pinged from? Anything like that?”
    He shook his head. “We requested the records from the phone carriers, which should be here tomorrow morning. The last pings, from the people we’ve spoken with at the carriers, all show towers near the women’s residences or workplaces.”
    “Okay, as far as last seens or spoken withs on these women?” I asked.
    “The two most recent were seen the day of them going missing. The one from a month back had spoken with a family member a few days prior.”
    “What about vehicles?” I asked.
    “Angela Wormack’s was at her house, and Jasmine Thomas’s was found at her apartment complex. We never found the vehicle of Kennedy Taylor.”
    I wrote down the information.
    “Anything as far as video from places near the body-dump sites?” Beth asked.
    Agent Andrews shook his head. “Nothing.”

CHAPTER EIGHT
    Before leaving the federal building, we spent another hour discussing the local FBI’s portion of the investigation, and I took notes. As far as hard evidence went, we didn’t get much more than what was in our file. However, I felt that both hearing what they’d already looked into and knowing Agent Andrews’s thoughts on the investigation could help.
    I followed Beth, driving through downtown Chicago, to our hotel—a half-hour drive from the FBI building.
    Beth made a right off north Michigan Avenue, drove around the block to east Walton, and pulled into a valet area under a massive, ornate awning hanging out over the sidewalk of an old building. I pulled in behind her and glanced to my right. Old English lettering on the front of the building read The Drake.
    I saw Beth stepping from her car and getting her suitcase and bag from within. She waited under the awning while the valet pulled away with her car and I pulled up. I got out, grabbed my bags, took my ticket, and headed inside with Beth. We left our bags with the bellman and