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No one was here. So that would place the time of death without the ME between three and five thirty. That is, if he was killed here.”
    Brophy reached in his back pocket for latex gloves before he reached the silver sedan. Brophy eyed the area, unconsciously making mental notes. His gaze moved in a wider circle, surveying where the young victim would have entered.
    The kid must have been meeting the assailant. Wouldn’t have been here if he wasn’t waiting for someone. At the very least, the attacker knew the victim.
    “I don’t suppose we have any witness who saw another car?”
    “ We’re still canvassing,” Waters answered, walking behind him. “Nothing yet. Where he’s situated is outside the camera range. I’d guess it was chosen for a reason.”
    Brophy shook his head. “The kid’s car might be outside camera range, but that doesn’t mean that the assailant’s vehicle wasn’t picked up on another camera in the parking lot.”
    “ Going to look into that,” Waters agreed. He took a pen from his pocket and wrote in his handheld notepad. “If this is the same guy, it’s odd after taking such pains not to be photographed on the other two murders and he just drives away without a thought that his getaway car has to be on tape.”
    Brophy didn’t answer, but continued up to the crime scene. He squatted by the open door. The victim hadn’t been moved. Careful not to touch anything, he crouched over the body. A baseball cap lay on the floorboard . Probably fell off due to the intensity of the blow.
    He looked down. Sure enough, it was there on the floorboard...the bastard's calling card. A vintage baseball card. Brophy didn't touch it, but could see it was a Tom Seaver card from the 1969 New York Mets. The bastard wanted them to know it was him.
    Blood splatter indicated the assailant had attacked from the passenger seat. Brophy studied the victim: his gray face drained of blood; his eyes frozen open with a look of sheer terror. The kid had been caught by surprise.
    To get a better look, he walked around the car to the passenger side. Before he opened the passenger door, his sharp eyes caught sight of blood droplets in a pattern leading from the car.
    Brophy stood back silently for a moment, reviewing every detail in front of him. In his mind, he replayed the scenario, walking through the motions.
    “ Do you see it, Waters? A straight trail. No hesitation. He didn’t pause,” Brophy said without turning to his partner. He stared out as if he were watching a car exit. “The sonofabitch casually got out of the car afterwards, and walked back into his car. The guy didn’t stop to take off any of his clothing or gloves.”
    Brophy glanced back at Waters. “The goddamn psycho didn’t care. He got back into his car, dripping in blood. Either he’s stupid as hell, or he doesn’t think we have a shot in hell of catching him.”
    * * * *
    Sitting in the passenger seat, Cameron said nothing while Darren drove her to the hospital. She had told him she could take a cab, but he insisted. She wished she could make engaging small talk, but all she could think of was escaping the man. His mere presence unsettled her. She needed time to contemplate her actions.
    Cameron wondered how she was supposed to act after a one -night stand. It seemed rather awkward in the morning light…waking up in the arms of a stranger. The truth be told, her actions horrified her. How could she have lost herself in wanton desire! Perhaps her surrender to Darren was nothing more than an unconscious effort on her part to silence the echoes of her past…except the night had been heaven.
    She stole a look at Darren when he turned onto Deaconess Road. He caught her eyes and smiled.
    “ You sure you want me to just drop you at the hospital? If it’s only for a report, I could wait and drive you home afterwards.”
    “ I’m fine. I left my car in the parking lot. Meghan picked me up after work yesterday,” she assured him.
    He