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case?” I asked.
    “Just what I’ve heard. I was over at Jacksonville while that was all going on here. Everything I’ve heard is all second hand. I’ve never been through the file.”
    “Well, I’m going to check in with Rick and then go talk with Danes. You want to join me?”
    “Yeah, I just saw the major in his office. I’ll go give him a heads up. Grab Rawlings when you’re done talking to Rick and meet me over there.”
    “Sounds good.”
    The captain walked out. I dialed Rick. The conversation was short. They’d found nothing. The gauze was everyday, over-the-counter stuff. The blood on it was entirely from the victim. No other trace evidence. The files from the Quilter case would be in from our archives by the end of the day.
    I hung up and then dialed Steinberg upstairs in missing persons. They’d had no one reported that hit our marks in the past couple months. Steinberg said he’d let me know as soon as he heard anything. I hung up and went to Hank’s desk.
    “Anything?” I asked.
    Hank leaned back in his desk chair. “No. And apparently the neighborhood residents really don’t like to talk with cops. I think I was hung up on about ten times. What did you get from Ed?”
    “Copycat, down to the finest details. Major Danes was actually the second in command on the Redding case. Cap wanted me to grab you so we could go get the story from him. Archives is bringing over the original case files and evidence.”
    “Okay. That was my last phone call for the day.” Hank sat up in his chair. “Are we going over there now?”
    “Yeah, come on.”
    Hank followed me past my and the captain’s offices, down the hall, and to the right. Through the glass window, I could see the captain sitting with Major Danes inside. He waved us in when he saw us, and I opened the door.
    “Major,” I said.
    “Come in, guys. Grab a seat,” Danes said. He sat at his large cherry-wood desk, his arms folded on top. Behind him on the wall were a slew of framed service awards. While my office sometimes bordered on disaster, Danes’s was immaculate. Each piece of furniture matched and gleamed as if recently polished. The ficus by the window looking out at the park appeared to be thriving. I didn’t spot a speck of dust on anything.
    Hank and I took seats next to the captain.
    “So we have a copycat of the Quilter?” he asked.
    “Yeah. I’m not too familiar with the particulars, but hearing it from someone who worked the case could lead us somewhere,” I said. “Ed gave me a little more information on it when I was over there.”
    Danes nodded. “Yeah, Ed was the assistant ME at the time. What did he tell you?”
    “Basically, what he knew about the bodies. Also said that the city was in an uproar.”
    “That’s an understatement.” Danes stood and leaned into the edge of his desk. “It took us weeks to find Redding. Even then, without his wife turning him in, I’m not so sure we would have. Every newspaper and television channel focused on the case. Imagine Bob Cross—times a hundred—as far as coverage and public outcry.”
    “Well, whoever did what we found this morning has inside knowledge of the crimes. I’m thinking that someone got to the files in order to recreate them, or Redding had an accomplice. Ed did say that Redding had kind of a cult following.”
    Danes shook his head. “That was during his trial and while he was incarcerated. No one knew who he was, prior. On the outside, he was just an ordinary guy. Hell, his wife didn’t even know what he was doing.”
    “Someone who had visited him in prison maybe?” Hank asked. “He was locked up for, what, seven or eight years before he was executed. That’s a lot of time to coach someone.”
    I looked at Hank. “Good point. I have Rick getting the original case files and evidence brought to his lab. What would we have to do to get the prison’s visitor logs from that time?” I asked.
    “You’ll probably come up empty there, Lieutenant.