A Killer's Mind (Zoe Bentley Mystery #1)(95)

“You think he always went to the same mall?”

“I think it’s probable, yeah.”

“All right.” Tatum grinned. “Then let’s make a list.”

“And then what?”

“And then we fly back to Chicago and check out security cam feeds in those malls for the evening Lily was taken. Maybe we can spot her and the Corny Serial Killer.”

“What? You can’t be serious.”

Tatum shrugged, already writing down addresses. “You’re still on sick leave. I’m on vacation until next week. Do you have anywhere better to be?”





CHAPTER 66

Chicago, Illinois, Friday, July 29, 2016

Zoe was never much for shopping, and it occurred to her that perhaps Andrea would have been a better fit for this investigation. Andrea could walk in and out of clothing shops all day for fun. This was their fifth clothing shop, and Zoe felt like she was in the tenth circle of clothing hell.

It didn’t help that their investigation was incredibly threadbare and groundless. In one of the stores they had visited, the security footage had already been destroyed, and in another, the manager refused to hand it over, demanding a search warrant. Even if the Corny Serial Killer, as Tatum began calling him, had gone to one of the stores on their list, they might miss him.

Tatum was arguing with another store manager, who was also refusing to show them the security footage, while Zoe walked around the store, feeling despondent. This store was one of the larger ones, catering to men, women, and children. It was lit by dozens of spotlights, illuminating rows upon rows of skirts, pants, shirts, dresses . . . Zoe tried to picture the Corny Serial Killer entering this shop and choosing something. It was an impossible sequence of events. He probably let the prostitute choose, while he waited alongside the other impatient husbands and boyfriends. Then again, it wasn’t likely he’d give the prostitute such a large measure of control. Maybe she had gotten it all wrong. Maybe he hadn’t gone shopping with— Her eye caught one of the mannequins. It was wearing the shirt Lily had been wearing when they’d found her.

She walked slowly toward the mannequin, almost as if she was afraid to spook the thing away. It was a realistic-looking mannequin, one of the most lifelike mannequins Zoe had ever seen, sculpted and painted to look like a stunningly proportioned woman, frozen in time, a vacant plastic stare looking directly at Zoe. The plastic face gave Zoe an eerie feeling. She knew there was a term to describe this phenomenon—the uncanny valley. The more closely something artificial resembled a human, the more alien it seemed.

It also seemed like the artificial twin of the embalmed dead bodies of Krista Barker and Monique Silva, the killer’s own mannequins.

Suddenly she could picture a much more likely sequence for the killer’s clothing shopping. He’d approach the mannequin, which already resembled his dream woman—a woman who would never argue, never leave, who could be posed. And he’d tell the nearest clerk that he wanted what the mannequin was wearing, in a size that fit the prostitute with him.

Most of the shops had simple, nondescript dolls, hardly looking like a human figure. But the mannequins in this shop had hair; they were colored right; they had beautiful large eyes. Perfect for their killer.

They’d easily fuel his fantasies. Did he have a mannequin like that at home? One he used for practice? Zoe was convinced he did, or used to.

“Zoe.” Tatum touched her arm. “Come on. Maybe we’ll get lucky in the next—”

“Hang on,” Zoe said. She approached the manager, a severe-looking woman who eyed them both with annoyance.

“Excuse me,” Zoe said. “We’re looking for a—”

“Your partner told me. The Strangling Undertaker, right? Look, I don’t remember any weirdos walking around here, and if you want the security footage—”

“Okay,” Zoe said. “I get it. But I have a different question. The man we’re looking for is probably in his early thirties—”

“We have lots of those.”

“And he’d probably be obsessed with your mannequins. He’d always buy what the mannequins were wearing and—”

“Oh, that guy.”

Zoe blinked at the woman. She could feel Tatum tense by her side.

“Sure, he comes by every once in a while. He freaks the girls out. He stands by the mannequins for ten, sometimes twenty minutes, just looking at them. He touched them a few times but stopped once I threatened to call security.”

“Does he come here with women?” Zoe asked.

“I think so. He came in with a girl not long ago. Bought her some clothes.”

“Just what the mannequins were wearing, right?”

The manager shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe.”

“When was the last time he came by?” Tatum asked.

“Just yesterday.”

“Did he have a woman with him?” Zoe asked urgently.

“No. He came alone. He was here around three in the afternoon, I think. Just staring at the mannequins, like always.”

“But he didn’t buy anything?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Ma’am, we have to see the security footage,” Tatum said.

“I already told you—”