Playing With Fire

by Dirk Greyson

  “Yes and no. We need to see if there are any cameras. Doing a personal roof-to-roof search will tip him off.”

  “It isn’t like we have cameras in the sky overhead,” Captain Westin said, and Barty rolled his eyes.

  “Get creative. There have to be ways that rooftops can be viewed. They do it all the time on the news. Helicopters or something. Get high-resolution cameras, take pictures of the town, and then analyze the rooftop images for casings. They take detailed pictures from space.”

  “I don’t think we have access to that technology, but we can look into it.” Captain Westin left red-faced, nostrils flaring, and Jim’s gaze followed him until he disappeared.

  “Man, he’s pissed. The captain isn’t used to being outsmarted like that.”

  “Then how can he be the best at his job if his decisions aren’t validated? It’s only through questioning that our decisions and judgments can prove that they can stand on their own in the light of day. If questioning bothers him, then he mustn’t have sound judgments and is afraid of their exposure.”

  Barty began going through the crime scene pictures one more time, specifically looking for things that he hadn’t seen when they visited the crime scenes. Normally he’d rely on his memory, but this was too important. Now that he knew what to look for, he found indications at almost every one of the actual shots being taken from a different location than originally thought. He was on the right track. But Barty knew this was just the surface and the real heart of this matter was going to be ugly.

  HE SET up his laptop and spent the rest of the day working through what he’d read and seen to develop a profile of the killer, but there was so much information he was missing that what he came up with was only in general terms, and that frustrated him. He liked his answers to be solid, but what he kept coming back to was nebulous and could apply to millions of people. Jim played the message that had been left for them, and it reinforced Barty’s profile but didn’t fill in any of the blanks.

  Jim had pretty much left him to his own devices for the afternoon, and that was precisely how he liked to work. But Barty found himself checking for Jim every half hour or so. He kept wondering about him, and not in an academic way. First thing, Jim had actually answered Barty’s questions honestly, which told him he was a pretty self-aware kind of man. Barty had also divulged things about himself. Academically he knew that could be the start of a friendship, and he liked that notion. He didn’t have many real friends. He’d never been good at making them. Mostly he had acquaintances and contacts.

  Something else niggled at the back of Barty’s mind, but he didn’t understand what it was in the least.

  “Have you come up with anything?” Jim asked, placing a cup of coffee next to him.

  Barty smiled. It was nice that Jim thought of him when he got a coffee for himself. He lifted his gaze from his laptop and caught Jim’s smile. It was nice, warm, and genuine. Barty had made a study of smiles as part of his work. People smiled for different reasons—for example, to cover up embarrassment or discomfort. Sometimes a smile could be menacing and chilling. Jim’s smile was nothing like those. It was like he was happy to see him. A flutter in his belly that had been simmering all day flared into a flight of butterflies, and Barty wondered if he might have eaten something that didn’t agree with him, but there was a pleasant feeling, like an aftertaste.

  “I have a basic profile,” Barty said, and Jim leaned closer. “It’s definitely a man, in my opinion, and he’s smart, supersmart.” Barty paused before he got into what he wanted to say. “This is all opinion at this point. A theory that we need to prove or change as we get more evidence.”

  “Like, you smart?”

  Barty colored. His intelligence was a source of pride for him, but he’d learned that it intimidated other people. “You can be as smart as you like, but don’t make others feel dumb,” Nana had told him.

  “Maybe. But in a different way. He’s smart, and at the same time, ruthless and without empathy. He doesn’t care what his actions do to others. His entire emphasis is on himself and the effect others have on him.” Barty turned away from his computer screen. “He’s the kind of subject that people in my profession would love to be able to study. He’s aware of his strengths and very good at minimizing his weaknesses. However, the exception is his ego. I think that’s what’s driven him to this extreme.”

  “How so?” Jim asked.

  “To boil things down, let’s say we have two people, both raised in pretty much the same way. But as adults, one turns into a serial killer and the other one studies people who become serial killers.” Barty might have been getting a little close to himself, but the example seemed to work in this case. “The two people are like two sides of the same coin. One turns evil, and the other goes on to lead a fairly normal life. One of the things that can help decide which way they go is ego. Let’s say that both of them have the potential to climb on rooftops and shoot people. Not everyone is going to do that.”

  “So the one most likely is the one with a biggest ego?”

  “Possibly,” Barty said and turned to Jim. “You be the bad guy. You’re our serial shooter. You’re smart and think you’re smarter than everyone else. Therefore, you’re the best at everything. So something triggers your superiority. You get passed over for promotion, or flunk a class that you think you should be teaching because the instructor is a complete idiot. Or your girlfriend leaves you for someone else, but of course you’re the best lover and best boyfriend in the world, so she should definitely want to be with you. Therefore, something is wrong with the world and you need to change that.” When he looked into Jim’s eyes, heat built up inside him, and he wondered why the room had suddenly gotten warm. “So you need to change the world and set it back to right where you are better than everyone else. Our shooter is doing just that. There’s an event that triggered these episodes, but we don’t know where to look for that yet. There is also some escalating event.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  Barty ran his finger under his collar because it felt a little tight. He lost his train of thought as he momentarily fell into Jim’s brown eyes. Barty blinked and got back on track.

  “Okay, so we have you as our potential serial shooter. You believe you’re better than everyone else. Therefore other people matter less than you do. They’re expendable because you’re the very best. Something happens that triggers your righteous indignation because things aren’t right. Your ego is bruised, but you grind your teeth and continue on, because after all, you are smarter than everyone else and know what’s best. But the world doesn’t return to where it should be. You are slighted over and over again, and each time the anger and resentment builds and builds. Other inferior people are being promoted over you… whatever it is. Then something happens that sends you over the edge and you have to take action, because the world isn’t righting itself and you feel it isn’t going to.”

  “Jesus,” Jim said softly.

  “The problem is that it often isn’t until after the fact that we’re able to piece these incidents together and come up with a real cause or answers. Sometimes we never can at all. There are people who would be fantastic research subjects, but they won’t talk. Others do nothing but talk, but their information is so skewed and facts hard to corroborate that we get no usable data.” Barty sipped his coffee, then set it aside. He was still too warm. “Is there something cold to drink?”

  “Sure. Give me a minute.” Jim left, and Barty breathed as normally as possible, trying to determine the cause of this reaction. Jim returned with a bottle of water that had condensation on the outside, and Barty opened it and drank half. “How do we use this to try to find him?”

  “I’m still working on some things. There are a number of possibilities. A lot of superintelligent people work in academia because many of us don’t have superior social skills. Though I’m not saying that’s a given, but it might be a place to start. You could try MENSA, but I don’t think that’s the kin
d of group our shooter would join. He’d surround himself with smart people, but no one potentially smarter than he is. That way he’s always the biggest and best in the room.” Barty stopped. “Chess clubs,” he added.

  “You said that this is a game a couple of times.”

  “Yes. He thinks many moves ahead, and that’s something chess players do. So try looking at the various chess clubs, but only at the very top players. He’d definitely be one of the best….”

  “Or he wouldn’t be in the club,” Jim said, and Barty nodded.

  “Exactly. He set this whole thing up as a game, one he was sure to win. Oh, and he isn’t above cheating. The rules have little value to him. So he’d think nothing of changing them in the middle of the game, especially one of his own creation.”

  Jim left the room, and Barty saw him talking to a few other officers. The two men Barty didn’t know nodded and then hurried back to their desks.

  Jim returned to the conference room. “Apparently the captain pulled a few strings and is lining up a helicopter and working on a camera with enough resolution. I have officers checking chess clubs for a list of members.”

  “Good. You know… maybe I was wrong. Maybe our shooter joined something like MENSA and then left. You might try former members. It isn’t likely that his ego would allow him to stay active, but the entrance score would be validation of how smart he really is.”

  “Are you a member?”

  Barty returned his attention to his computer. “It doesn’t matter to me. I know I’m smart enough and that I’m good at what I do. But I don’t have the need for a lot of that kind of outside validation.” He’d also never thought of himself as a particularly social person, so clubs and memberships had never been the kind of things on his radar screen. “I honestly don’t know how much more help I can be to you at this point. I’ve gotten all the information I can from what you have.” And he was starting to get tired. It had been a long day, and he was ready to go home. Although the thought of driving back into the city at this time of day was a pretty frightening prospect.

  “Would you be willing to continue working on this with us?”

  Barty started the shutdown process on his computer and then turned away from it. “Of course. You can call me when you need something. I have to teach my classes, but I have a light load right now, so I can help.” He packed up his things and checked the time. “Is there a place nearby where I can get dinner? I don’t really like to drive and it’s the height of rush hour right now, so maybe if I eat, some of the worst traffic will be over.” He wasn’t hopeful, but everyone was hitting the freeways right now and it was going to be a zoo.

  “Certainly. There are a few decent places.” Jim waited for him and walked him out. “If you like, I can take you to dinner. You’ve been a big help.”

  “You don’t have to do that,” Barty said. He usually ate alone, with only Penelope for company.

  “It will be nice.” Jim led him outside and down to a small restaurant less than a block from the station. “It isn’t fancy.”

  Barty continually looked around them for any sign of a shooter. There were very few people out, which made sense if you had someone taking shots at people on the street. “Everyone is battened down and nervous,” Barty observed.

  “Yeah. Not that I can blame them. This whole thing has everyone jittery and bothered. Though if the pattern holds, it could be weeks before there’s another incident.” Jim didn’t open the door right away. “That’s the real problem. Just about the point that people start to think that everything has passed and their lives can return to normal, there will be another shooting.” He opened the door and let Barty step inside.

  The restaurant was nice and well lit, with small flower vases on each table displaying a few blooms. “Please sit wherever you like,” the server said, and Jim led them to an out-of-the-way table.

  “Is this okay? I thought we could talk,” Jim explained, and Barty sat down in the chair across from Jim. “I hate that I can’t seem to put an end to this. The next step is to call in the FBI, but police departments are so territorial, and I think we’re making progress.”

  “You were and are. No one is perfect, so we’ll catch him. He’s already left some clues I don’t think he intended to, and the phone call was very telling. I’d expect more of those. They’re a cry for attention. Also expect some escalation on his part. He wants his message to get through even though he may say he doesn’t.”

  “Sometimes the waiting is the hardest part.”

  “True. But we were able to come up with a number of avenues of inquiry that I think are new. They may pan out or they may not, but if one of them does, you’ll be closer to an answer.” Barty picked up the menu and looked it over.

  “See anything you like?” Jim asked and then checked his phone as the server approached.

  “Yes. I’d like a glass of water to drink, and I’ll have your Cobb salad without tomatoes or olives. And please put the Italian dressing on the side.” He handed her the menu, and Jim ordered a burger with a small salad on the side.

  “You made me want to be good. Usually I get fries.” Jim grinned briefly, and that fluttery feeling from earlier in the day returned.

  Barty got warm again, and he was starting to get a little excited. He knew what sex was and that it was a normal part of life. But he’d never actually had any real sex with another person. He also knew he liked boys because he used to think about them in… that way… when he was a teenager. That was something he never talked to his nana about, and Barty was more than glad about that. The thought of talking to her about those urges had been mortifying.

  His water arrived, and Barty drank most of the glass before asking for a refill.

  “What was it like growing up for you? You said you graduated high school ahead of your older sister. That must have caused some issues for you.”

  Barty nodded and thought about what he wanted to say. “As a psychologist, I can look back on all that and understand what was going on, but back then it was so confusing. I have an older sister and a younger brother, Mark. Nicole is a beauty consultant in a salon in Erie, Pennsylvania. She wants to own her own place, but I don’t think she has what it takes to do that. But, of course, I can never say that to her.”

  “Because you know it will hurt her feelings?”

  Barty did know that in his own way. “Actually she’d yell at me about not supporting her, and then she’d probably rip things off me the next time I saw her. I mean, why wouldn’t someone want to fully understand their capabilities? If she isn’t able to run a shop of her own and opens one, she’ll lose all kinds of money and will be worse off than she is now. Practically it doesn’t make sense. But then I also know that it’s her dream, and no one likes to have their dreams taken away, so I keep quiet, and she doesn’t threaten to castrate me.”

  “You’re so funny,” Jim said, and Barty wondered if he was making fun of him. “I like how you look at both sides of things.” Ah, he was serious. That was nice, and Jim was smiling again, which started the flutters once more.

  “No one thinks I’m humorous,” Barty said.

  “Then they haven’t spent time with you. Most people would go for the quick answer and the castration. You looked at all the answers and came to the same conclusion. What about your brother?”

  Barty chuckled nervously. “He scares me. Mark is a biker. He works in a garage that services motorcycles, and has a club that he rides with. I think they’re a gang, but he says they’re a club and that there is nothing illegal going on. My mother worries about him all the time, but he’s old enough to make his own decisions.”

  “It sounds like he’s the rebel in your family.”

  “He definitely is. Though his older brother, who went to college and got his PhD at twenty-three, is the weird one to him. Mark thinks he’s normal, and from what I know, of the two of us, he probably is. He apparently has a girlfriend who is very nice, according to my mom, and Mom thinks she’ll be a good influe
nce.”

  “Do you see your mom and dad often?” Jim asked, but Barty shook his head.

  “They’re in Erie and I live here. They have the other two, and….” The server refilled his water and left the table. “I was too much for them. At least that’s what Nana used to say. My mom couldn’t handle me, so I was sent to live with her mother here in Philadelphia. She and my dad could raise the other two, but there were no resources for me there, and so I was sent to Nana and she raised me. I got the attention I needed, and she was able to get me into the best schools. Nana also helped me try to understand other people and pushed me to go into psychology. She said it would help me understand people in a way that didn’t come naturally to me.”

  “I looked you up on the web this afternoon. It’s amazing the things you’ve accomplished and all the awards you’ve won.”

  “They’re nice, but not the end-all. Mostly I like the work, and Nana was right. I don’t understand most people, and sometimes I don’t understand myself, but my research allows me to get the answers I need and allows me to help other people at the same time.”

  The server placed his salad in front of him, and Barty checked that it was right before thanking her softly.

  “What was your grandmother like?” Jim took a bite of his burger and set it back down on the plate.

  “She was fun and did a lot of things with me. We went to concerts and things like that. Nana lived in a small house near a park, which I visited a lot to watch the other kids play.” Barty took a bite of his salad. “She died when I was seventeen and at college.”

  “That must have been very hard for you. I knew my grandparents, but I never lived with them like that. My grandpa was very special to me. I think he was the one who might have figured out that I was different from the other kids, though we never really talked about it.”

  Barty put a few of the pieces together and nodded slowly. He understood that feeling well. Not only was he a gay kid, but he was supersmart, so the kids had pretty much stayed away.