Chasing Chinatown Trilogy

Russian Hill: Famous tourist attractions in San Francisco are being decorated with body parts. As Agent Abby Kane digs into the investigation, she believes the killer is trying to put on a show, maybe even send a message. As she races to determine where the killer will strike next, he’s already found his next victim and is preparing for a final act. The first installment in the Chasing Chinatown trilogy.

Lumpini Park: In the second installment in the Chasing Chinatown trilogy, Agent Abby Kane hunts the mastermind behind the sadistic challenges the only way she knows how: by playing the game and moving up the bloody leaderboard herself.

Coit Tower: In the climactic conclusion of the Chasing Chinatown trilogy, Agent Abby Kane is the ultimate target, and the stakes are life and death. The mastermind has set the stage with a single objective: claim Abby’s life and earn a staggering $10 million bounty.

Russian Hill

I sat on the bench and understood why the victim loved to sit there. The view was idyllic and peaceful. I wonder how the killer found out about this park or how he even came upon her. Certainly he didn’t happen by and say, “Hey, I think I’ll kill that lady.” 

If she had fallen asleep, it would have been the perfect opportunity. But the park was small and not well known. I found it hard to believe that the killer had happened upon her by coincidence. 

Had he spotted her earlier and followed her home? How long did he watch her? Days? How did he know she walked her dog every night? He knew her routines. He stalked her.

And what about the cutting of the finger? 

I stood and looked around, hoping something might pop out. He had taken her finger with a diamond ring but none of her other jewelry. I pulled out my phone, pulled up the report Kang had emailed over and scanned it until I found what I was looking for. Interesting. For some reason, I assumed it had been her wedding ring finger that had gone missing. It wasn’t.

Kang said the victim lived two houses up, so I searched the report and found the address. The street number was odd, so she lived on the left side of the street. I counted two houses and stopped in front of a beautifully renovated, two-story Victorian with a very ornate, colorful, wood-trimmed façade.

The home sat high, away from the sidewalk, with stairs that required three switchbacks on their way up to the front door, mimicking the famous crooked street nearby. It was beautiful, but I couldn’t imagine making that climb every day. As I admired the residence, something sparkly in one of the lower hedges directly in front of me caught my eye. I moved in closer for a better look. Holy moly! I found myself staring at a large, diamond ring. It was on a finger. 

Could it be? I moved a few branches and answered my own question. It had to be the victim’s missing finger. But why leave it here? Why would the killer risk coming back to the victim’s home to plant the finger? It makes no sense.

If the killer had indeed placed the finger here, it felt more in line with the gold teeth in the pan. Both victims had suffered body mutilation with the body part moved to another location, away from the body. Was the body part the killer’s objective or was the kill? Was the removal of the body part a way to prolong the kill? He was trying to make a statement, but about what, I wasn’t quite sure. It was a strange way to communicate, but riddles from killers aren’t unheard of. 

Still, that’s not what I thought the staging of the body parts was trying to do. And why did I continue to think Kang’s killer also did my hiker? Aside from the medical examiner’s findings and my hunch, nothing more connected the two crimes. Unless…

I pulled out my phone and dialed.

“Kang, here.”

“Kyle, you’ve got it turned around.”

“Abby is this you?”

“Yes, it’s me. Did you hear what I said? The motivation—it’s wrong. Your guy isn’t collecting.”

“What is he doing?”

“He’s thrill killing.”