Jade turned to her. “The girl. Leah. She didn’t talk to him much, did she? The kids were scared and quiet.”
Travers looked at him, surprised. “Yes. That’s what she said. Why?”
“Because they lived. As for the woman, magnet on the refrigerator says ‘Ask Mom, She’s the Boss.’ Next-door neighbor described her as the ice queen of the decade. Exact words.
“Check the bedroom. Phone ripped out of the socket, traces of blood. Both wounds on the woman are from the hammer. She woke up in bed, saw Allander, and threw the phone at him. She was tough. She would’ve reacted tough. She scared him, so he killed her.
“Look at the marks on the love seat. Marks from his dirty feet. He killed the parents, dragged them out here, then stood on the sofa and looked down on them. Got the upper hand, so to speak.
“The kids both lived. He must have felt complete control over them. He wouldn’t kill them if they were completely nonthreatening. Nothing for the anger to grab hold of. Plus, it wouldn’t be a challenge. He’s after a challenge here.”
Travers nodded.
“Bullshit,” an agent in the foyer said. “He’s a fucking coward. Held little kids hostage.”
“A coward,” Jade repeated, shaking his head. “He’s cold, hasn’t eaten, just broke out of a prison and swum to shore in freezing water. He walks up to a house and takes it on. Full frontal assault. No idea who’s in here. Do you know the balls that takes?”
The room was silent for a moment before Jade continued. “If he was a coward, he would’ve just beaten an old lady to death and I wouldn’t be bothering with this case. You clowns could handle it yourself. We’re dealing with a powerful mind here, Agent.”
Dan stumbled through the front door. “Found the toolbox out in the shed to the side of the house. He definitely went through it. Hammer’s missing.”
Travers sighed. “And probably a screwdriver. That explains the broken peephole.” She glanced into the living room at the bodies. “Pretty gruesome sight. The posing and the letters. It’s horrible.”
“It’s fantastic,” Jade replied. “The more he does, the more he leaves me to analyze.”
Travers started to respond, but her beeper went off. She checked it and went to the kitchen to answer the page.
The other agents stood around awkwardly. Dan coughed nervously, bringing his fist to his mouth.
“Notified family?” Jade asked.
“No, not yet,” Dan replied. “Not looking forward to explaining this one.”
“Well, I want full grave-site surveillance. Get those bodies in the ground so you can watch them.”
Dan shook his head. “Well, I don’t think—”
“That’s good, Harris. Don’t think. It’s a long shot, but killers sometimes go to the grave sites. Could be a hook.”
Travers came back in from the kitchen. “That was McGuire,” she said. “We have another body. Doesn’t look like our boy’s work, but it’s in the area, so McGuire wants us to check it out.”
“I’d be surprised if it was Atlasia,” Jade said. He expected Allander to have some kind of cooling-off period, as most serials killers do. At least twenty-four hours. If he was cycling this quickly, they were really in trouble.
“It’s a different MO and a robbery, so I don’t think so. Local police on it already.”
“Let’s go,” he said. “I’ll give you a ride.”
“Why don’t you come in my car,” Travers said. Before he could respond, she continued. “Radio contact.”
She turned and walked out the front door. Jade followed.
A cluster of agents stood in the shadows, to the side of the garage. They turned away when Jade passed.
29
IT was getting dark when they reached the house. Typical of the neighborhood, it sat back from a full lawn that stretched all the way around to the backyard. A sprinkler chopped back and forth over a yellow Wiffle-ball bat that lay in the middle of the grass.
Kids, Jade thought. More kids.
The upstairs windows were lit, two golden rectangles shining into the evening. Travers parked behind three police cars. They got out and headed to the house, passing a green station wagon in the driveway.
There were three cops downstairs. “Up in the bedroom,” one said, pointing to the stairs. “Body first room to the right. Kid’s out on a sleep-over, doesn’t know yet. We’re with the husband in the master bedroom. He’s pretty broken up.”
Travers nodded and headed upstairs.
“We also got a glove by the back door,” another cop said.
Jade walked back and glanced at the glove. It was black, medium-size. Definitely a man’s.
He headed back for the stairs. “Anything been moved?”
The cop shook his head. “Nothing. Husband’s name is Royce Tedlow. Says he hasn’t touched a thing either. Just the phone when he called us.”
The body was upstairs, lying on a bed in a boy’s bedroom. A thin woman with dark bruises around her neck. Her shirt was neatly tucked into her pants. She looked peaceful, as if she were sleeping.
Jade and Travers looked at the dead woman for a moment, then headed for the master bedroom.
The husband sat on the bed, face buried in his stretched undershirt. An unbuttoned blue shirt was curled back from his body, and his hairy chest was distinguishable beneath the thin white undershirt. He had a medium build, a nice frame layered with muscles gone slightly soft with middle-age. Jade put him in his late forties.
The bedroom was nicely furnished. A large mirror stretched almost the length of one wall above a marble cabinet, and a huge television faced the bed from beside a window on the other side. An elegant lady’s watch curled around the base of a large brass lamp on the nightstand.
Travers spoke softly with two of the cops. They’d been at the scene for at least a half hour, and had yet to get anything from the husband. Every time he started to speak, he collapsed back into tears. They surrounded him, their faces supportive and sympathetic.
“I just … just can’t believe that some … some MANIAC!” He yelled at the top of his lungs, his voice hoarse from crying.
“Calm. Calm down,” Jade said. “What happened?”
Royce Tedlow looked at Jade and took a deep breath.
“Come on,” Travers said. “Let’s walk through this together, okay?”
The husband nodded and started speaking, halting occasionally to fight back tears. “I work down … downstairs in the basement, in my office. I came up to get Susan—”
“For what?” Jade asked. Travers and a burly officer shot him hard stares.
“I don’t … I don’t remember.” The husband collapsed back into sobs.
“Nice touch, Marlow,” Travers said under her breath. She turned back to Royce, laying a hand on his shoulder. “I know this is hard, and I’m sorry to have to push you like this, but the sooner we find out what happened, the better chance we have of finding the killer while the trail is still hot. So see if you can go ahead.”
When Royce continued, his voice was steadier. “She wasn’t answering, so I went upstairs. When I came in here, I saw my wallet and I knew something was wrong.” He pointed to the floor, where a leather wallet was spread open. Business cards, an ATM slip, and credit cards were scattered on the floor.
A cop walked over and picked up the ATM slip. “Twelve hundred bucks,” he said. “You always carry this much cash?”
Royce shook his head. “No. I just went to the ATM this morning.”
The cop looked at Jade, then back at the husband. “Anything else missing?”
Royce looked up. “A clock.”
The cop looked surprised.
“It’s Waterford crystal.”
Jade bit his cheek to keep from laughing aloud.
“Then you went to your kid’s room?”
Violent nodding from Royce. His cheeks were flushed and the tears kept coming. Jade was amazed they hadn’t run out.
“There she was … strangled.” More sobs.<
br />
“Don’t you think strangulation’s a pretty personal way to kill someone?” Jade asked.
The husband gave him a horrified look, then collapsed back on the bed, burying his face in the comforter. “I’m not talking to him,” he sobbed.
“Look, buddy,” the burly cop said to Jade in a loud whisper, “I don’t know what kind of training they give you in the FBI, but—”
“Yeah, okay. We got a car in the driveway, two lights on upstairs, and you want me to buy that someone broke in for petty theft. Someone who’d leave a watch on the nightstand but take a clock. Thieves generally don’t know their crystal, Tedlow. They have a hard time telling Waterford from Baccarat.”
He circled the bed, trying to get a look at the husband’s eyes.
“That body was laid on the bed with care. With guilt. Robbers don’t treat bodies like that. He would’ve just knocked her, robbed the place, and split. Not taken time to lay the body out.” He paused. “We all know this wasn’t a random offender.”
Travers watched Jade as he spoke. Her anger faded as she realized where he was going.
“You want to know who killed her?” Jade continued. “It was someone who knew her, someone who wanted to look at her face-to-face when she died. Someone who knew the boy was out, someone who has to sob nonstop so he can stall for time when he’s being questioned.”
He turned to leave.
The burly cop shouted after him, “What are you implying?”
“Oh please. Don’t pretend this is news to you. You know you’re gonna head right back to the station, meet with your captain, and discuss exactly the same shit,” Jade said. He had very little patience for a bad murder.
The burly cop was quiet, still glaring at Jade, but with doubt starting to show on his angry face. He ran his hand across his bull neck.
“Look, we don’t have time for this shit,” Jade said. “Brand-new glove downstairs.” He looked over at Royce. “At least you could have come up with something a touch more original. Give me a break.”
“The robber had time to separate this from the stack of bills just to leave it for us?” Travers asked, assuming Jade’s aggressive tone. She picked up the deposit slip, careful to hold it only by its corner. “No way. The only people who have to try this hard to point at someone else are the most obvious suspects.” She waved the deposit slip in front of the husband. “Like the glove. Bullshit.”
Jade looked at her and grinned. He was beginning to like her.
Another cop cleared his throat, then spoke softly to the burly cop. “Look, Ed, we might have enough to move on this now. Some pretty glaring discrepancies. I mean, if the robber knew people were home, he would’ve gone after the man first. Why go after the little woman?”
Jade nodded. “Exactly. Always neutralize the biggest threat right away. Then take your time with the valuables and the woman.”
Everyone stared, first at Jade, then at the husband, his face still buried in the comforter.
“What about the money?” the burly cop asked.
“Probably buried somewhere with the other glove,” Jade replied. “Check for a shovel with fresh dirt on it. Might even find dirt in the trunk of his car. See if they match.”
Travers nodded. She was beginning to understand how Jade operated, how he cast himself as the killer in order to understand how the murder was carried out. She realized that even as they had walked up the driveway, he had been thinking about how he was going to break into the house, how he was going to get upstairs, how he was going to kill the woman if he had to. She glanced at the husband; he was a murderer, but he wasn’t a predator. Not the way Jade was. Travers felt a cold shiver run across her back, and she realized that she was sweating.
The burly cop turned to his partner. “All right. We’ll run a few more questions on him while the crime scene’s fresh.”
“Whatever,” Jade said. He turned to Travers. “Let’s go.”
The husband was suddenly on his feet, facing Jade. The tears were gone. His eyes were alive now. “You don’t know. You don’t know anything about this.”
“Look, pal,” Jade said. “I’m sure you’re right. But I also really don’t care. I’m just in a rush here.” He tapped Travers on the shoulder and she followed him out of the room.
They heard one of the cops reading Royce his rights as they stepped into the hallway.
“Nice, Marlow,” Travers said out of the side of her mouth as they descended the stairs.
“Glad you finally spoke up there, Travers.”
“Anything turn up?” one of the cops downstairs asked as they headed for the door.
“Nothing important,” Jade answered as he swept by.
30
WELL rested after a comfortable night’s sleep in the Mercedes, Allander whistled the first motif of the Jupiter symphony as he emerged from the alley and walked past the broken-down machinery that littered the grounds. The blue of his shirt was resplendent against the dreary colors of the deserted lot.
A DANGER DO NOT ENTER sign lay in a patch of weeds by the side of the gate, and Allander picked it up, admiring it in the waning sunlight. He wedged its corners between the links of the fence, then smacked his hands together to rid them of dust.
Having whistled his way well into the recapitulation, he turned and headed toward the bus station.
?
Jade began the next morning by carefully studying the photographs from the first crime scene. He sat on his couch in the middle of his living room, chewing ice from a cup that he rested against his crotch.
The room was becoming cluttered as Jade collected more background information. He had stacked books on the glass table in front of him, and the files he had gotten from the FBI were piled up everywhere. It seemed as if the first one had reproduced, spawning an extended family. Now files littered the floor and the couch, many of them opened to important pages.
Jade was trying to hold all the material in his head, but it was difficult. There was just too much to absorb—audiotapes of Allander’s psychological interviews, videotapes of his trial and old crime scenes, photographs of Allander, jail records, psychology reports, and victim profiles and photographs.
Once Jade had reviewed a photograph carefully, he taped it to the wall. The first photograph in the upper-left-hand corner was Allander’s mug shot at age eighteen. The rest of the photos progressed in a more or less chronological order: Allander through the years, his victims through the years. His killing pace had slowed when he went to prison, but still his victim count rose steadily—here another prisoner, there a guard.
Jade looked at the files, books, and photos spread out around him and closed his eyes. What was Allander proving? What was the pattern of his pleasure? And most important, what was his weakness?
The phone rang and Jade snatched it off the hook.
“What.”
“I got a good one. In light of your case and all,” Tony said. “Okay. This guy comes home, finds his girlfriend packing. He’s shocked. He says, ‘What’s going on? What are you doing?’ Girlfriend says, ‘I’m leaving you.’ He says, ‘You’re leaving me? Why?’ She says, ‘Because you’re a pedophile.’ ‘Yeah, yeah,’ he says. ‘Big word for a nine-year-old.’”
Jade laughed, tilting his head back. “You’re a sick fuck, Razzoni.”
“Thank you, thank you,” Tony said. “And how’s the case heard ’round the world?”
“Gonna have my hands full. I think we have a serial.”
Tony whistled. “Well, I knew he was a killer of serial killers—he got three in the Tower, didn’t he?”
“Five.”
“I just thought little kids were more his speed.”
“Well, he’s progressed. Those years in prison helped him evolve. We had a scene last night that looks like it could be the first in a string. Time will tell, though. Press blackout, so keep a lid on it.”
“Consider me lidded. Just wanted to check in, make sure you’re not howling at the moon or anything.”
Heading back to the couch, he stretched out so that his legs were sticking up in the air over the back of the sofa, and his head was slanted off the seat. He picked up Introductory Lectures on Psycho-Analysis and began to read intently.
It had been years since he’d read Freud. Most of the psychology he kept up with was much more practical, but if the prison records showed that Allander had read it, he had to at least review it. He needed to get inside Allander’s head so he could use his own thoughts against him.
The ring of the doorbell startled him. Shifting his weight, he twisted awkwardly, landing with a crash on the floor. Rising sheepishly, he went to answer the door.
“Hope you didn’t hurt yourself,” Agent Travers said as she brushed past Jade into the room. “I know how difficult answering the door can be.”
“Only when you’re behind it.”
Reaching the center of the living room, she stopped and looked about her, admiring Jade’s intensity—intensity so great it led him to transform an entire room into a virtual shrine to the man he was hunting.
“Love what you’ve done with the place.” She glanced at the stack of books on the table. “Learning to read?”
“What the fuck do you want?”
“Your patience runs out quickly.”
“I’m gonna run you out quickly.”
She stuck her bottom lip out in a mock pout. “Now we wouldn’t want that to happen,” she said, sinking into a chair. “Then you’d be denied the afternoon with me.”
“Look, Agent Travers—”
“Cut the shit, Jade. You can call me Jennifer.”
“Fine. I’m in the middle of something here, Travers, and I don’t have time to—”
“Oh please. You think I stopped by on a social visit? There are files to go over, and—”
“I’ve already been over all of them. I don’t need your help, and I don’t have to help you. It’s not in the deal.”
“‘It’s not in the deal,’” she repeated, mimicking him. “For Christ’s sake, you sound like a ten-year-old.”
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