The FBI ASAC’s office walls were plastered floor to ceiling with maps of the various open serial murder cases scattered across the country. As the local law liaison, only one of them interested me, the map of central Iowa that had most red circles of any in the room, ten. Ten of the thirteen gone missing.
He got up and we shook hands. He offered me coffee, which I accepted. It was like one of those nature documentaries you see on public television where the bull elk circle each other before getting down the serious business of locking horns.
He was about to bring up the Iowa Hawkeyes playing in the Rose Bowl next week, but I cut him off by walking over and tapping the map. “All this is frozen now. We expect to find the other three girls, but we can’t dig for them until March or maybe April.”