While Kathy was making phone calls and sending photos of the tattoo to several tattoo parlors, I went through my father’s cold case logs.

When I read the autopsy report from one of the cases, I knew I had a related case. I let Kathy read the report.

“What do you think?” I asked.

“It’s the same MO as your Jane Doe. The victim was a Native American girl, seventeen to nineteen years of age with a new heart-shaped tattoo. The ink was household enamel. The killer thinned it down with turpentine. The killer used bleach to destroy any DNA evidence and killed her by pouring bleach down her throat. An incision to the wrist drained her blood. No sign of a struggle due to morphine. I’d say you have a serial killer.”