Dead Woman Crossing by J.R. Adler (best management books of all time txt) 📕

Sam picked up his mug of coffee and took a drink of it. “I reckon they will. Before I forget.” He pulled a badge from the front pocket of his shirt and extended it out to Kimberley.

The badge was a shiny gold six-pointed star. At the top of it read, “Chief Deputy.” At the bottom, “OK.” Text wrapping around the middle in a circle read, “Custer County Sheriff’s Office.”

“Welcome to the force… officially, Detective King,” Sam said with a nod and a smile.

Kimberley slowly took it from him, reading the few words on it over and over, running her fingers along the points of the star. It was heavier than it looked. This was it. She was formally Chief Deputy King of the Custer County Sheriff’s Office.

Kimberley looked back at Sam. “Thank you… It’s an honor,” she said with a tight smile.

He nodded and exited her office, walking toward his own.

There was only one thing left to do, she thought to herself, looking down at her blue jeans and white tee. She walked to the door and closed it and then drew the blinds blocking her window that saw out into the rest of the sheriff’s office.

The long-sleeve tan button-down shirt fit her perfectly and Barb had thoughtfully already pinned the stars to her collar and her nametag to the right side of her chest, just above the front pocket. Engraved in the gold bar was ‘K. King.’ Her olive-green pants fit flawlessly. Barb must have had them tailored, however, Kimberley assumed she had done it herself, because it seemed like that was the kind of woman she was. Everything she had encountered in the sheriff’s office had a personal touch from Barbara. Kimberley rocked back and forth in her boots. They’d need a little working in. She smoothed out her hair that was tied back in a low ponytail, a memory flashing into her mind.

Kimberley turned side to side, ensuring everything was perfectly in place. Looking at herself in the mirror, she found herself looking through it. She always did. Like it was a portal to a past she’d never forget.

“Kimberley, this is not okay,” Detective Hunter said, holding up a photo. It was the photo of the mirror with the message written to Kimberley from the crime scene. “I think you need to get off this case.” She slid the photo in front of her and took a seat.

Kimberley folded her arms in front of her chest. “Why?”

“He is taunting you. He knows who you are. This is unfamiliar territory to me, so as your mentor and your partner, I can’t be like this is fine. Because I don’t know if it’s fine.” Lynn furrowed her brow.

“I’m not going to drop this case because of some asshole. I owe it to these victims.” Kimberley grabbed three photos from her desk and slid them in front of Lynn. They weren’t crime scene photos. They were pictures of the women before they were murdered. Jenny Roberts seated in Central Park eating a piece of bread on a bright sunny day. Maria Velasquez stood beside her husband in front of a lit Broadway marquis for Cats. Stephanie Weisman lying out by a pool wearing a two-piece bikini, a beach hat and oversized sunglasses reading a book.

Lynn glanced at each photo and back at Kimberley. “I know. But it’s not safe. We have no idea who this man is. He seems to know more about us than we know about him, and we’re the detectives!” She shook her head.

“I’m staying on the case,” Kimberley said defiantly.

Lynn took a deep breath and winced. “Ugh.” She pushed at her lower abdomen, leaning slightly forward.

“Are you okay?” Kimberley half stood.

She waved a hand at her. “Yeah, I’m fine. It’s these IVF injections. They bloat me up like a balloon and it’s just tender and uncomfortable.”

“Here.” Kimberley handed over a bottle of water and a couple of Tylenol.

“Thanks.” Lynn tossed the pills in her mouth and washed them down with the water. She took another deep breath and looked directly at Kimberley.

“Tell me about the latest victim, Stephanie Weisman.”

Kimberley nodded, giving a tight smile. She knew this was Lynn’s way of saying, “I won’t recommend your removal from the case.”

“Stephanie Weisman is a thirty-two-year-old investment banker. Worked at Wells Fargo and lived in Greenwich Village. Married. Pregnant with her first child, and she was seven months along. She was missing twelve days before we found her.”

“A waitress, a legal secretary and an investment banker. All from different classes. Stephanie and Jenny were white. Maria was Hispanic. They lived vastly different lives. What’s the connection?” Lynn was thinking out loud.

“Pregnancy?”

“Maybe.” Lynn scratched her chin. “What do we know about the killer?”

“He’s a ghost. The places he’s picked are always abandoned. No CCTV. We have no witnesses from when the women are taken. He must watch them for a while, get to know their routine, and he finds an opportunity. A window in their life when no one else is looking,” Kimberley said as she looked at the photos of each of the women.

“What are you thinking for a profile?” Lynn asked like a teacher would with their student, and that’s what she was to Kimberley. Lynn was the reason Kimberley had risen through the ranks so quickly. She had taken her in under her wing when she first joined the force because Lynn had seen so much potential in her.

“He likes control, feeling like a god. Could be a sexual thing. I’d say he’s in his early thirties, white, well-educated. He takes care of himself, works out. The way he targets pregnant women… something must have happened to him as a child, perhaps childhood abuse,” Kimberley rattled off.

“That’s a solid profile, Detective King. But I want to know who Jenny Roberts, Maria Velasquez, and Stephanie Weisman were. They’re the key to discovering who murdered them. Find their connection.” Lynn stood from her chair, giving a tight smile, before leaving the cubicle.

Kimberley refocused her