Elaine lay near the cabinet, a wine glass in pieces on the floor beside her. She'd been shot once in the side of the head, the force of the impact sending her forward into the cabinet door. Unlike her husband, she appeared to have been moving when shot, possibly carrying dishes from the cabinet to the packing boxes.

  "She was in the middle of packing," Kate said, noting the tissue paper scattered around the body and the open cabinet doors. "And like you said, Rodrigues, it doesn’t look like she was trying to run or escape. She never heard the shot that killed her husband.”

  Kate walked slowly around the dining room, absorbing the details. The Mercers had been preparing for a major life change, packing up decades of accumulated possessions, ready to start fresh somewhere new. Instead, their transition had been cut brutally short.

  "Any indication of what the killer was looking for?" Kate asked. "Robbery, specific items missing?"

  "Nothing obvious," Rodriguez replied. "Electronics are still here, jewelry box in the master bedroom appears untouched, wallets and purses in plain sight. If this was robbery, the killer left empty-handed."

  Kate nodded, unsurprised. She hadn’t expected it, anyway. The pattern was holding. These were methodical killings with no apparent financial motive, no personal vendetta that would explain the targeting. Just couples in their fifties who had made the decision to sell their family homes.

  "Show us the entry point," DeMarco requested. “You said the neighbor saw the back door opened, right?”

  “Yeah, this way.”

  Rodriguez led them through the kitchen to the back door, which opened onto a small, covered porch. The door itself was solid wood with a single deadbolt lock, the kind of basic security that most suburban homeowners relied on. Kate knelt beside the lock mechanism and leaned closer to it. She removed her phone from her pocket, opened up the camera, and used it as a makeshift magnifying glass.

  "Look at this," she said, pointing to tiny scratches around the keyhole. "These marks are fresh, metal on metal. Someone worked this lock recently. And the marks are small and barely there at all…. which means they’re very good at it."

  DeMarco bent down to examine the markings. "Yeah, these scratches are consistent with pick tools, and they're too clean and precise to be from normal key use."

  Kate stood, feeling another piece of the puzzle click into place. "Our killer didn't just walk through an unlocked door. He had the skills and tools to gain entry quietly."

  "Professional level?" Rodriguez asked.

  "Hard to say. Lock picking isn't that difficult to learn, especially on older residential locks like this one. But it does suggest planning and preparation." Kate made notes about the lock evidence, adding it to the growing profile of their methodical killer.

  Rodriguez cleared his throat. "There's something else you should know. Mrs. Patterson, the neighbor who called this in, she came over just before you guys arrived with additional information after the initial responding officers took her statement."

  "What kind of information?"

  "The Mercers had security cameras installed—one covering the front yard, one watching the back patio. But Harold took them down a few days ago in preparation for the move, to pack it away.”

  Kate felt a surge of frustration. Security cameras could have provided them with their first clear look at the killer, possibly even enough detail for identification. Instead, they had another dead end. “I bet you anything the killer was aware of that. No camera…why not just walk up to the back door?”

  Feeling a bit irritated now, Kate walked back through the house, studying the crime scene with fresh eyes. The methodical precision was identical to the previous murders—single gunshots, no struggle, clean entry and exit. But something about the Ridgecrest connection was nagging at her. If this was about revenge against families who had lost money in the development fraud, why would the killer target the Mercers?

  Maybe it wasn’t about revenge at all.

  She pulled out her tablet and scrolled through the research she'd compiled the previous night. Names, addresses, financial losses, family details—hundreds of people affected by the Ridgecrest disaster. But as she searched through the list, one thing became clear: Harold and Elaine Mercer were nowhere to be found. It seemed they weren’t connected to Ridgecrest.

  "DeMarco," Kate called, gesturing for her partner to join her near the front window. "We have a problem."

  "What kind of problem?"

  Kate showed her the tablet screen. "This list I came across of the families that claimed to have been affected by Ridgecrest…investors, support group members, people who filed complaints or lawsuits. The Mercers aren't there. Seems like they may not be connected to Ridgecrest at all."

  DeMarco frowned, understanding the implications immediately. "So our entire theory about revenge killings related to the development fraud..."

  "Might be completely wrong," Kate finished. "We've been so focused on the Ridgecrest connection because it linked our first two victim couples perfectly. But if the Mercers have no connection to that case..."

  "Then we need to find what actually connects all three couples," DeMarco finished. “God, we could be looking for some guy who is just randomly selecting people with realty signs in their front yards.”

  Kate knew DeMarco only meant it as a joke of sorts, but there also might be some truth to it…as terrible as it would be.

  Kate walked back through the house, moving slower this time, and looking at Harold and Elaine Mercer with new eyes. They were in their late fifties, married for decades, living in a home they'd owned for twenty-seven years. They'd recently listed the house for sale to move on elsewhere. It was pretty common for people their age, especially those who had raised kids that had moved out.

  The pattern snapped into focus with sudden clarity.

  "It's not about Ridgecrest specifically," Kate said, her voice gaining urgency. "Maybe it's about the profile of the victims themselves. Look at what definitively connects all three couples."

  DeMarco nodded and began reciting everything they knew for sure. "All in their fifties, all married for twenty years or more, all recently listed their family homes for sale."

  "Exactly. The Pattersons lived in their house for twenty-one years before listing it. The Sullivans for twenty years. The Mercers for twenty-seven years." Kate paced the living room, pieces clicking together in her mind. "These aren't random targets. Our killer is specifically choosing couples who are selling homes they've lived in for decades. That is for certain so far."

  "But why? What's the significance of long-term homeownership?"

  Kate studied the family photographs on the Mercers' mantelpiece, seeing decades of holidays, anniversaries, and milestones celebrated in this house. "Stability," she said finally. "These couples represent the kind of long-term stability that some people never achieve. They've lived in the same house for twenty years, built successful marriages, accumulated enough wealth to make major life changes by choice rather than necessity."

  "And someone sees that as... what? A betrayal? An insult? We already crossed that bridge."

  "Maybe they just see it as an opportunity," Kate said grimly. "Someone who watches these listings, identifies couples who fit the profile, then targets them during the vulnerable transition period when they're preparing to move."

  DeMarco looked around the partially packed dining room. "So we're looking for someone with access to real estate listings, probably someone who can track the history of homeownership and identify couples who've lived in their houses for decades."

  "And someone skilled enough to pick locks, methodical enough to plan surveillance, and cold-blooded enough to execute couples in their own homes," Kate added.

  The scope of their investigation had just shifted dramatically in a matter of minutes. Instead of focusing on a specific list of Ridgecrest victims, they now needed to consider anyone who might target successful couples during major life transitions. The suspect pool had expanded exponentially.

  "Six victims and we're back to square one on the killer's identity," DeMarco said, echoing Kate's thoughts.

  Kate looked around the Mercer house one more time, taking in the interrupted packing, the life that had been cut short just as a new chapter was beginning. "Maybe not exactly square one," Kate corrected. "We know he's escalating…three couples in about a week. We know his method: surveillance, lock picking, execution-style killings. And we know his type of targets, as well.”

  "Couples in their fifties selling long-term family homes," DeMarco said. "So, based on all of that, what's our next move?"

  Kate headed toward the front door, sighing deeply because she knew the answer but did not like it one bit. "We build a new profile, and we build it fast. Because if our killer is targeting couples based on real estate listings, there are probably dozens of potential victims out there right now, and they have no idea they're being hunted."

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  DeMarco's office was a study of organized efficiency, reflecting the methodical mind of its occupant. The walls were painted a soft gray that provided a neutral backdrop for the collection of items that revealed glimpses of her personality beyond the FBI agent facade. A framed photograph of the Virginia Beach coastline sat on her desk beside her computer monitor while a small succulent plant in a ceramic pot added a touch of life to the otherwise sterile environment. A whiteboard dominated one wall, currently covered with crime scene photos, timeline notations, and connecting lines drawn in red marker that traced the relationships between their victims. As they entered, Kate smiled as she got to catch faint, slightly erased glimpses of some of the other cases DeMarco had been working on over the past few months.

  Kate settled into the chair across from DeMarco's desk, spreading their case files across the available surface. The afternoon light filtered through Venetian blinds, casting striped shadows across the documents they'd been accumulating since the investigation began. Three couples, six victims, and they were essentially rebuilding their understanding of the killer from the ground up.

  "Let's start with what we know for certain," Kate said. "Our killer targets couples in their fifties who are selling homes they've lived in for twenty years or more. He conducts surveillance, gains entry through lock picking, and kills with single gunshots to the head. Methodical, precise, no personal interaction with the victims."

  DeMarco nodded, adding notes to the whiteboard in a small, square-ish-shaped area left clean. "The question is motivation. Why does selling a long-term family home trigger this level of violence?"

  "Someone who views that kind of voluntary change as a betrayal," Kate said, developing the profile as she spoke. "Think about it…these couples have achieved the American dream. Stable marriages, long-term homeownership, and enough financial security to make luxury decisions about retirement and travel. To someone who's lost those things, that kind of voluntary abandonment might feel like a waste. Maybe like some sort of insult."

  "Or maybe someone who never had the chance to achieve that stability in the first place," DeMarco added, writing 'LOSS OF HOME/FAMILY' in large letters on the board. "Someone whose own family was disrupted, who sees these couples as having everything he couldn't maintain."

  DeMarco’s phone buzzed with a text, and she grabbed it right away. “A text from Duran,” she said. She then read it quickly before reading it to Kate. "Duran's team is still pursuing the Ridgecrest angle, just in case the Mercer murder was meant to throw us off track. But I think we need to focus on who has access to real estate information."

  “I agree,” Kate said. “We could start compiling a list of everyone in the Richmond metro area who would have access to MLS listings and property history data. That would be realtors, obviously, but also mortgage brokers, appraisers, home inspectors, title company employees, bank loan officers. Anyone who might be able to track homes that have been listed recently and cross-reference them with ownership history."

  Kate watched DeMarco's methodical approach as she jotted this all down, appreciating her partner's ability to think systematically about complex problems. The small details in the office—a photo of what appeared to be DeMarco's parents at a graduation ceremony, a coffee mug with "World's Okayest Agent" printed on the side—suggested someone who valued both achievement and humor, a combination that served her well in their line of work.

  “Let me see if I can get someone on Duran’s team to start working on that,” she said. She picked up the receiver on her desk phone and made a call. She moved quickly and efficiently, the movements of someone who lived and breathed this sort of action daily. Kate had to admit that she did miss it.

  She listened in as DeMarco made the request—not demanding it, but making her urgency known. "How soon do you think you can get it?" she was asking after the conversation had gotten rolling. "We're looking at potentially dozens of people with the right access, so the sooner we can start narrowing it down, the better."

  While DeMarco handled the logistics of their expanded investigation, Kate studied the crime scene photos spread across the desk. The Pattersons and Sullivans scenes were old enough so that there were print outs, glossy and gruesome on her desk. The Mercers would be available shortly, Kate assumed.

  DeMarco ended the call and immediately reached for her cell phone. "I'm calling the Richmond Real Estate Association," she explained to Kate. "They maintain databases of all licensed agents in the area, plus they might have information about recent complaints or disciplinary actions."

  Kate nodded, returning her attention to the case files while DeMarco made her second call. The timeline bothered her—three couples killed in a little less than a week suggested an escalating pattern, but the precision of each murder indicated someone who had been planning for much longer. Either their killer was naturally methodical, or he'd been practicing. Or he had studied his victims tightly, right down to their daily movements and had known precisely when to strike.

  "Yes, this is FBI Special Agent DeMarco," she heard DeMarco say into her phone, just before she rattled off her badge number. "I need information about licensed real estate professionals in the Richmond area, specifically anyone who's had complaints filed against them or disciplinary actions taken in the past five years."

  Kate pulled out her tablet and began searching for the Mercers' real estate listing. If their theory was correct, the killer was using public information to identify targets, which meant the listings themselves might provide clues about his selection process.

  The Mercers' house appeared on several real estate websites, listed by Jill Duncan. Kate recognized the woman’s face and name from the SOLD sig in front of the Mercer’s House. However, with just a few link clicks, Kate was able to quickly find the name of the company she worked for: Better Lives Realty. And with just a bit more information, she saw who owned and operated the company.

  “Holy shit,” Kate breathed. “Hey, DeMarco?”

  DeMarco gave her a wait a second gesture as she finished up her phone conversation. "I'll need that information as soon as possible," DeMarco was saying. "Email is fine, but please mark it urgent. We have an active serial killer investigation."

  Kate waited impatiently for DeMarco to hang up, the significance of what she'd discovered growing clearer by the moment.

  "What did you find?" DeMarco asked, ending her call.

  Kate showed DeMarco her tablet screen. “The realtor who sold the Mercer property is Jill Duncan, who works for Better Lives Realty. And Better Lives Realty is owned and operated by none other than Thomas Brennan of Brennan & Associates Real Estate.”

  DeMarco's eyes widened as she processed the implications. "Thomas Brennan. The same realtor who joined the Ridgecrest support group and tried to get those lawsuits pressed against our buddy Gillespie."

  "The same Thomas Brennan who lost his family and his career because of his involvement with the development," Kate added. "His company handled the Mercers' listing, which means he had access to all their information—how long they'd lived there, their reasons for selling, their financial situation."

  DeMarco reached for her phone again. "I need to find out if Brennan's company was involved with the Patterson or Sullivan listings too. If he’s operating sort of in the shadows and assigning specific realtors to these listings rather than the name of his company…maybe we just didn’t see it…or know to even look."

  While DeMarco made another call, Kate pulled up the Brennan & Associates website on her tablet. The company appeared to be a large, local operation with a dozen or so agents working under Brennan's leadership, but positioned with smaller groups that Brennan owned. Brennan’s own bio page showed a man in his early sixties with graying hair and the kind of professional smile that suggested years of experience in sales. But knowing what she now knew about his history with Ridgecrest, Kate could see something harder in his eyes, a determination that might have curdled into something darker over the years.

  "The Sullivan listing was handled by Sarah Kellerman, who's independent," DeMarco reported, covering the phone with her hand. "But I'm checking on the Pattersons now."

  Kate continued reading about Brennan's company, noting that he'd rebuilt his real estate career after the Ridgecrest disaster, though it had taken him several years to reestablish credibility in the industry. According to the website, he specialized in helping families through major life transitions—selling family homes, relocating for retirement, downsizing after children left home. The kind of transitions that their killer seemed to view as betrayals. There certainly seemed to be something there.

  "The Patterson listing was handled by someone at Coldwell Banker," DeMarco said, hanging up her phone. "So it's not a direct connection through Brennan's company for all three couples."

  "But he's still connected to at least one of the crime scenes," Kate pointed out. "And he has the access, the motivation, and the personal history that fits our profile. Twenty years of anger about losing his family, his career, his financial security. Now he's built a new business helping other families make the kind of major life changes that he was forced into."

 

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