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Chapter 1167: Lines of Investigation
🕑 Added 2025-06-09 20:00:02 +0000 UTCThe Aileen Wuornos that Jack and Reid mentioned was a highly infamous female serial killer in the U.S. during the 1980s and 1990s, widely regarded as one of the "standouts" in that category. A total of seven men died at her hands, and unusually for female killers, her weapon of choice was a handgun. Charlize Theron famously underwent a dramatic transformation to portray a character based on Wuornos in the film Monster.
Wuornos's background was deeply troubled—she was raped and gave birth at 14, kicked out of her home at 15, and ended up working as a prostitute, servicing coarse long-haul truck drivers in motels along the highway.
Her antisocial personality was clearly a product of environment and trauma, completely different from the young girl Jack had encountered in a recent case.
This current case had clearly sparked Reid's interest. "From the sound of it, she's not just methodical—her technique is quite advanced. Maybe we should approach it from the other side and look for common traits among the victims. Aside from being wealthy, do these two men have anything else in common?"
"Uh…" Jack frowned, thinking. "They were both in their early fifties. They spent lavishly. Twenty thousand dollars a night clearly included a fee for silence—it shows how much they valued privacy.
In other words, they were likely repeat clients. It probably wasn't their first time hiring her."
"Then is it possible they shared certain kinks—like sadism, for example? Maybe their excessive demands eventually made the killer decide not to tolerate it anymore. That could be a motive."
"Thanks, Reid. That might be a really useful direction for investigation." After talking with Reid, Jack felt like his thoughts had become much clearer.
He didn't really know much about high-end escorts. Back when he was a patrol officer at LAPD, he often dealt with streetwalkers—the kind who charged $50 to $200 tops.
LAPD would sometimes conduct sting operations, where pretty female officers would pose as hookers to lure unsuspecting johns.
But a $20,000-a-night escort? That was completely outside Jack's experience. If it was someone like Aubrey, who used to target low-tier celebrities or minor runway models, that would've made more sense to him.
After all, men have vanity too. Across the ocean, there were tons of "top donors" throwing hundreds of thousands into live-stream apps without even getting to touch the girl's hand.
Jack spent most of the day in the office provided by Prosecutor General Jackson, organizing all the case files that had been delivered. It wasn't until sundown that Aubrey and JJ finally returned.
From the looks on their faces, Jack knew immediately he'd chosen the right people for the job. But before either of them could report their progress, Jack stood up and ushered them out—time to get some food.
And when in Texas, barbecue was a must. Jack had already made a reservation at Pecan Lodge, the top-rated BBQ joint in Dallas.
The three of them had been busy all day and were famished. Tomahawk steaks, lamb chops, smoked brisket, and smoked salmon came out one after another—and were devoured just as quickly.
JJ maintained some grace as a woman, but Jack and Aubrey had no such reservations. They dug in with their hands, thoroughly enjoying themselves.
The meats had been slow-smoked for over ten hours, tender and falling off the bone, yet still juicy thanks to expert moisture-locking techniques. Combined with tangy, sweet sauces, it was absolutely addictive.
Even Aubrey, known for his bottomless appetite, ended up stuffed. He took off his napkin and ordered a lemon water to help digest. JJ was the first to share her findings.
"I got in touch with Hoyt Asift's wife. Clearly, she's not satisfied with the official cause of death—'peacefully passing at home.' She wants to know the truth.
We're meeting at her house tomorrow morning at 8:30."
"Why not tonight—uh, never mind. Forget I said anything."
Apparently, all the blood had gone to Jack's stomach, leaving his brain underpowered. Hoyt Asift was the guy who'd died just two nights ago. His wife was probably still buried in funeral logistics and paperwork. Scheduling a morning meeting was already a sign of real urgency.
"Well, the timing actually works. I found the cleaner too. We're meeting tomorrow at noon," Aubrey said as he slumped in his chair, looking like he didn't want to move an inch.
Jack was a bit surprised—not at how fast Aubrey found her, but that he actually managed to set up a meeting.
"Maybe she really doesn't care about the FBI," Aubrey added lazily, "but I told her I had friends at CNN, CBS, and Fox. She picked the time and place herself."
Noticing that Aubrey had used "she," Jack was surprised to learn the cleaner was a woman.
He'd imagined someone thick-necked and bearded, maybe with a face like Sabretooth—the older brother of Wolverine from X-Men, the kind of guy you'd expect in a show like Ray Donovan.
—
Unlike many major American metropolitan areas, Dallas's wealthy district was located in the heart of the city, surrounding a neighborhood called Highland Park.
Just like its name implied, the community boasted man-made lakes and private forests. With green space covering 90% of the area, luxury villas dotted the landscape, rivaling Beverly Hills in Los Angeles.
It had everything—hospitals, schools, designer shopping centers, golf courses. Jack looked up real estate prices online— even the cheapest homes here cost more than four times the Texas average.
Of course, even nouveau riche types couldn't just buy their way in. The people who lived here were Texas's generational wealth—families so old that surnames alone revealed their net worth.
Hoyt Asift's wife was quite young—early thirties at most, at least twenty years younger than her late husband. When the two FBI agents were seated in the living room, she gracefully took a seat on the opposite couch.
"Mrs. Asift, we're very sorry for your loss—"
JJ didn't even get to finish her sentence before the young widow raised her hand to cut her off.
"Thanks, but please—don't. I've heard those words too many times over the last couple of days. And hearing them even after knowing how he really died? It just feels too ironic. Makes me feel like I'm being fake."
JJ looked at Jack, caught off guard and unsure how to respond.
Jack, more familiar with the blunt directness of Texans, decided to get right to the point. "We're here to learn a few things about your husband.
We believe he may have been targeted by the killer because of some personal preferences."
He paused for a moment, feeling like he hadn't phrased that delicately enough, and added, "Specifically, sexual preferences."
—
