Nashville
12:30 p.m.

The conference room was set up just the way Taylor liked it—whiteboards overflowing with information, victims’ photographs at the top, so they could fill in any and all information on the victimology. A separate board was kept for information about the killer. Taylor went to that, unfurled the drawing Ariadne had given her and pinned it up.

“Who’s that?” Marcus asked.

“This is the drawing Ariadne did of the kids she followed Halloween night. Her view of the killers. With and without makeup. She didn’t recognize Thorn, but she did pick Susan Norwood out of a six-pack. I want that girl back here. She’s involved in the killings and the drugs.”

“I’ll get on it,” Marcus said, stepping from the room.

Lincoln was tapping away at his laptop. She heard him whistle, low and long, then he got up and stared hard at the drawing. He went back to the laptop, tapped a few times, then said, “Come here and look at this, LT. I’ve got something.”

Taylor joined him, looking over his broad shoulder at the laptop’s digital screen. He was on a video-sharing site.

“Please tell me this isn’t the movie again,” she said.

“Nope. This is from the address that was part of the ghost IP. Another upload from the same place.”

He hit Play on the video.

A horrendous racket launched from the speakers, clanging, industrial noises overlaid with some sort of melody. A deep screaming emanated, words hardly recognizable. The subtitle read, A Goth Makeup Tutorial. The screen went black for a second, then a girl’s face filled the space. She was pretty, high cheekbones, wide eyes that were very, very green. Taylor knew in an instant they were colored contacts—Baldwin had naturally clear-green eyes that were just as bright, but much more beautiful. The video accelerated, double time, the girl covering her face in pearly makeup, applying blush, penciling in eyebrows, then going to work on her eyes.

The black rings grew and grew, each swipe applied with a steady, practiced hand. She built a foundation around the eye, each stroke making it deeper, wider, layering on coat after coat of mascara until the green stood out like an emerald and the rest of her face disappeared. She moved to her lips, outlining them in black, then filling the pillows in. A small white line was drawn above the cupid’s bow. Then she went back to the eyes again, adding long, draping tendrils of black in perfect swirls down her cheeks.

Finished! The subtitle screamed, then the shot went back to the girl, a quick before-and-after. When she smiled, her teeth were white against their black background; the long fangs in place of her bicuspids made Taylor think about the gaping mouths in Barent Johnson’s bedroom. Then the video was over, the grating noise ended.

“What do you think about that?” Lincoln asked.

Taylor smiled at him, then went to the whiteboard and brought Ariadne’s drawings to him.

“That’s her, isn’t it?” she asked.

Lincoln nodded. “I think it is. It certainly looks like her.”

“Please tell me that video has a name attached.”

“It does. The credits say, ‘starring The High Priestess Fane, as herself.’”

“Fane. Fane. Why does that name sound familiar?” McKenzie said.

Taylor went to the conference table and grabbed the file folder from Hillsboro High School, held it up triumphantly.

“She’s in here. On the list of Goth kids at Hillsboro.”

Taylor flipped it open, scanning through the names until she saw what she was looking for. She read aloud from the folder. “Here we are. Fane Atilio. She’s a sophomore. Hangs out with the Goth crowd, straight-A student, excels in English and history.”

“Does she have a boyfriend?”

“It doesn’t say. The information is sparse on her. It looks like she flies under the radar. She’s never been in trouble, never been disciplined.”

“Is there an address for her?” McKenzie asked.

“Yes, there is. Feel like taking a ride? I’m going to bring a few extra patrols, just in case. Maybe we’ll get lucky.”

“You bet.”