He set three files across the desk. From each one, he took the autopsy report copy and set it directly below the file folder. Then he took the hair and fiber report and set it on top of the first report just below the header. Next he took the packet of lab result papers and set them down. He sat down in his chair and stared at the stacks of paper in front of him. There was a connection, he knew it instinctively and he just had to find out what it was.

He picked up the hair and fiber report from the Rachel Weiss stack. There were no unknown materials found on or near the body. There were no hairs, other than her own and all the other fibers had been identified as belonging in the apartment. He set that report back down. Next he picked up the one for Danielle Wickstrom, the prostitute known as Lola. She had been found in the river with several gray hairs tangled in her fingers. He flipped through the pages of the fiber report until he found the page about the hairs. He scanned down the page, his eyes stopping on the words gray and hairs. He read closer. The hairs were synthetic, made from nylon. There were six hairs and each was approximately eight inches long. The notation at the bottom of the page said they were mostly likely from a wig, a cheap Halloween type wig.

The last report was from an unidentified body that had been found in the Forest Park area almost a year ago. He pulled out the pictures and found one with a full body view. The woman had been propped up between two trees, with her arms pinned up to them with knives. It looked nearly identical to the way Rachel and now Roxy had been left, only it was outside. The abdomen had been hacked at violently, the entrails pulled away from the body. The report said that it appeared that animals had torn the body up a bit before she was found. She wasn't hidden very well; she was only a few yards from a popular walking trail.

She was still unidentified, even after checking dental records against missing persons in the area. She was assumed to be from out of state, he had a couple people checking on the Doe Network in their spare time, to see if the could find a match.

Allen looked over the autopsy reports again. All three women were between five foot eight inches and five foot ten inches tall. They each had at least shoulder length blonde hair. They all weighed about one hundred and thirty pounds. But what was it that tied them together?

He ran a hand through his thick dark hair, making it stick up in strange places. There was something here, he knew it in his gut, but he was damned if he knew exactly what it was.

Danielle had been killed differently than the others. Why? Was the murderer interrupted? Was he in a hurry? With the other two women, he had plenty of time, they were in their own homes, and he seemed at ease, not rushing anything. He picked up Danielle's autopsy report. There were no knife wounds, only some bruising on the face. He wondered if she had been an accident; that he hadn't meant to kill her. There was only bruising, none of the bones in her face were broken or fractured. As if she had only been hit hard enough to incapacitate her, not kill her. Then he noticed the comment about her hyoid bone. She had been strangled, most likely manually.

He held up a small tape recorder and pressed the record button. He repeated his thoughts into it, describing how he saw the scene in his mind. He leaned back in his chair and let his thoughts wander, creating and discarding various scenarios. All of a sudden Dana flashed into his mind's eye. He sat up abruptly and looked and the Jane Doe autopsy pictures. Scattering the papers, he found what he was looking for. Dana Collier had taken the scene photos for the Doe scene, and for Roxy's apartment. She had also seen Rachel. Was the connection there? Did Dana know something?

He pulled out a cell phone and looked through his last dialed numbers. He had called one other person since Dana, so he went down to the second number and pressed the button to dial. She answered on the third ring, somewhat groggily. When she realized who it was, she seemed to wake up, sounding completely alert.

She agreed to meet up with him for lunch at a small Italian restaurant a few blocks from his station. After she had hung up the phone, Dana glanced over at her clock and then flopped back on her pillows. It was barely nine in the morning, and she didn't have to be in to work until late this afternoon. She reset her alarm and rolled back over to catch another couple hours of sleep before she had to get up.

The detective pressed the hang up button on his phone and leaned back in his chair again. He stared at a stained spot on the ceiling as he considered what he knew about Dana Collier. Physically, she was fairly short, only about five foot two maybe. She had waist length black hair that she usually kept in a single braid down her back. She didn't wear make up, at least the few times he had been in contact with her she hadn't been wearing any. She was very petite, one hundred pounds dripping wet.

Professionally, she was a damn good photographer. Since she had started working with the crime scene division nearly five years before, he had heard nothing but compliments about her work. After watching her in action the day before at her friend's apartment, he had no doubts about her skills.

She was a tenuous connection, nonetheless. She had only been doing her job at two of the scenes, and one was in her own home with the victim being her best friend. He wondered if she had talked to a mental health provider or some kind of therapist. It was possible she had just detached herself from the scenes as so many officers often did. He was guilty of that as well.

Losing track of time for the next several hours, he went over each of the files with a fine-toothed comb, reading every typewritten letter to each handwritten notation. He had jotted down several questions that he wanted to ask Dana when they met for lunch later. He looked up at the clock. Hell, it was already later. He pulled his jacket from the coat rack by the door. Jacob locked the office up before he left, nearly running to the exit.

Dana was waiting outside the busy Italian restaurant when he arrived. Although it was crowded, they didn't have a very long wait before they were seated at a booth near the front windows. A thin layer of clouds blocked the full brightness of the sun, so Dana pushed open the curtain so that she could see out the window.

Jacob picked up his menu, something that was totally unnecessary, as he was a regular customer here and already knew exactly what he wanted. He had his order ready before he had even asked Dana to meet him. The waiter came over to them and rattled off the daily lunch specials. Dana shook her head. She settled on the cheese tortellini with a side salad and a coke. Allen ordered Fagioli e Tonno, Bruschetta and Carpaccio as well as a large platter of spicy meat ravioli.

After handing the menus back to the nodding waiter, he looked back to Dana, who was watching him with a bemused look on her face. She was rather impressed with his knowledge of the menu and a little concerned about the size of the meal. She had skipped breakfast, and the last thing she had eaten was the sushi. As long as she didn't stuff herself, she should be fine.

She looked around the restaurant. Italian posters in large wooden frames covered most of the walls, and the lights were hung low over the tables in glass globes. The dark wood paneling gave a romantic feeling to the room, and she was suddenly a bit self-conscious. That emotion dissipated as Detective Allen pulled out a folder and set it on the table. She looked at him and he nodded. Picking it up, Dana opened the file and pulled out a single sheet of paper. It looked like a graph or a spreadsheet. She held it up to the light streaming in through the window so that she could read what was written in each of the small boxes. She recognized the names of the dead women. There were names and physical descriptions hand written on the paper, locations where they were found and other details. The boxes were colored in with high lighters; some of them had more than two colors in the box. The only thing that they all had in common was in the physical description. They all had blonde hair.

"After we're done eating here, I'd like to have you come back to my office, look at a few photos. I also have some questions for you," Allen said to her as the first plates arrived at the table. He took the file folder and set it off to the side on the extra chair. The toasted Bruschetta had pieces of fresh tomato and was lightly sprinkled with olive oil. She was familiar with this dish, but she wasn't sure about the Carpaccio. The thinly sliced meat had a light vinaigrette dressing on it, and the waiter grated fresh Parmesan on top.

Dana picked up a piece of the bread and took a delicate bite. Allen had gone straight for the Carpaccio, deftly picking up the pieces of meat. She began making small talk, drawing him in to a discussion of exercise programs and which fitness clubs were the best. It was a good-natured argument and she couldn�t remember the last time she had actually enjoyed herself like this.

The detective picked up the tab, refusing to let her split the bill. She watched as he signed the credit card slip, leaving a generous tip. As they walked to the door, she felt his hand on the small of her back and she stiffened. Jacob pulled back as soon as he felt her tense.

"I'm sorry," he said to her, "That was an automatic impulse." She nodded, and then offered her own apology. "I'm just not used to being touched, that's all." She jammed her hands down into her pockets, and they walked back to his office in an awkward silence.

The first thing that she noticed as she walked into his office was all the books. Tall bookshelves covered three of the walls, and the books overflowed from the shelves onto the floor and around his desk. An antique chair stood in the corner, and old sweat shirt balled up in the center of the seat. She walked around the desk and looked at the wall behind it. There were certificates and diplomas in frames hanging in every available space.

She looked closer at the detective as he pulled his suit jacket off and turned to hang it up on the coat rack. He honestly didn't look old enough to have received all those awards. She had guessed him at maybe thirty-five years old. Jacob caught her looking at him and felt a satisfying heat as he watched the blood rush to her face. He wondered just what exactly she had been thinking about. Ignoring her blush, he pulled out the photos that he wanted her to look at.

"Do you remember these?" he asked her. She started to shake her head, and then did a double take. "That was last spring, wasn't it? In the park?" Dana returned the questions. "Right," Allen told her. "Now look at this." He set the picture of Rachel's bloody, battered body next to the first photo. "And as soon as they are developed, the third would be Roxy," Dana looked back at him; refusing to let any emotions color her voice.

"Can you remember any other pictures you may have taken where the victim was left in this position?" he asked. She thought back over the last year or so, and shook her head. "Not that I can remember," she said, "But I'm not the only photographer. There's Davis Beck and Ken McCarthy too, and I don't know who might be in Hillsboro or over on the east side out by Gresham."

"I know. I plan on asking them next," he replied with a wink, "But I'm not going to buy them dinner first." Dana blushed, and then thought about what he had just told her. She decided to spill some of her own beans. "I have something of a," she paused, looking for the right word, "rapport? I think that's the right word, with some of the girls downtown. Right now, I have someone looking into seeing if there have been any other girls from down there that have gone missing."

He looked at her with a level gaze. "You know what I'm going to say right now, don't you?" Smiling, she nodded indicating agreement. "I am to tell you the minute I know anything, and call you if I even suspect something."

"A healthy appetite and can read my mind. I think I might just marry you," he said, starting to laugh.

Dana joined in and soon they were both cracking up. "Okay," she said when they had stopped and caught their breath, "I'll call. Those girls won't go anywhere near a cop, but a couple of them will talk to me. I'm really glad you took the time to help me yesterday." She looked down for a minute, and then said, "And I'm sorry I ruined your day off." "My days off get ruined a lot. You are the first person who has ever apologized for it." They both stood and he opened the office door for her. "I'll see you around," she said as she left.

Allen watched her as she walked away. He had sincerely enjoyed her company. He was glad that he had asked her to lunch. He took a break and let his mind wander, over her.