Page 103 of Race to Save Her

“Could you tell if it was female or male?” said McGaven.

“It most likely belonged to a female.” John looked at the detectives. “I know this isn’t helping you singularly but I hope it’ll put together a tighter picture of the killer.” He turned to another computer and pulled up images and toxicology reports. “Now as far as Shelby’s body at the Heritage crime scene is concerned,” he said, “it had been completely washed, and—strangely—there were high amounts of magnesium and sulfates on her skin as well as internally.”

“Isn’t that Epsom salts?” Katie said.

“Correct,” said John giving Katie a smile.

“Why would there be Epsom salts on her? Is that a way to wash away any evidence?”

“I thought that could be it too, but then I remembered a case I worked on a decade ago that involved a flotation tank.”

“What’s that?” she said, remembering she had heard something about them being for health purposes.

“It’s sometimes called a sensory deprivation tank, an eight-foot-long pod or chamber, which is lightproof, soundproof, and filled with heated, salt-dense water that people use for relaxation and to help with muscle pain.”

“So the Epsom salts act as a weightless aid for flotation.”

“That’s sounds creepy,” said McGaven.

“It does, but there have been studies that it’s quite effective for relaxation and stress relief,” explained John.

Katie was already trying to figure out if Shelby had indeed been in one of the flotation pods. “You said they’re completely enclosed. Could someone lock you inside it?”

“I suppose there’d be a way.”

“If a person was exposed to this type of therapy for a long period of time, wouldn’t it make them crazy without light or sound?” Katie couldn’t imagine being locked in that type of device. But it made sense that a killer who thrived on having complete control over a woman’s body could use one of the pods in that way.

“I can’t imagine it would be pleasant to be kept in one,” said John. “It would be like being in solitary confinement.”

“So maybe the killer didn’t wash her, but she was submerged so long that she was covered in it.”

“There was a lot found in her hair, so that supports that theory. Conveniently for the killer, it would work as a natural cleaner too,” he said. “It has a wide variety of uses.”

Katie studied photos of the body. McGaven walked to a large examination table where the clothing Tyler had worn lay. Spread out in this way, the blood stains were more shocking.

“We couldn’t find any legible fingerprints on the car or in the properties we processed,” John said. “There were smudged areas, but someone took exceptional care to wipe them from Sills’s cabin, the metal hardware, Tyler’s car, and the messages to Katie.” It was obvious John didn’t like the fact that Katie was in the killer’s sights.

“That’s annoying,” said McGaven.

“We’re still trying to test for blood on the knife found in Tyler’s car. The knife itself is a type of hunting knife. It’s consistent to the wounds inflicted on Tyler.”

The detectives were solemn, thinking about everything they had learned.

John swiveled on his chair and looked at them. “We’ve been working together for a while and we’re friends.”

“Yes,” said McGaven.

“Of course,” said Katie.

“I want to go on record between the three of us that I’m concerned. I don’t say this about just anything.” He turned and pulled up an image of the notes written to Katie. “Take a look at these.”

Katie, when do we meet?

Katie, you’re getting warmer.

Katie, you’re hot now.

“Where did the last one come from?” Katie asked. She hadn’t seen it before