The cop hustled over to the ME, thankfully putting an end to the three-ring circus by the body;. Hopefully, giving the profiler one less target for his ridicule.
Ruben wished that he was so lucky, as Nicole turned to Harbinger. “What did you mean it was a waste of our time to expand the canvass?”
Oddly, the profiler shouted, “Help!”
Everyone at the crime scene swung around at the strange outburst, but Harbinger pointed up to the apartments lining the alleyway. Not a single person came to the window. Not a single shade moved.
“In this part of town?” Harbinger questioned, “The residents actively don’t hear or see anything.”
“The perfect dumping ground,” Nicole concluded.
“And your ‘person of interest?’” Kent chuckled. “The anatomy instructor at the community college?”
Ruben’s hand made a fist of its own accord. It was one thing for the profiler to riff and poke at the crime scene. It was quite another for him to actively dis the core of his case. Ruben was so sure that the professor was involved that he had put round-the-clock surveillance on the man. They just needed him to trip up.
“You don’t think Professor Munz is involved?” Nicole asked the profiler. Clearly, she was not picking up Ruben’s mental urging to ignore the man in the tuxedo.
“Oh, the professor is a necrophiliac, of course,” Harbinger stated.
Nicole turned to Ruben, the question clear on her face. Was the professor into dead bodies? Ruben had no answer for her. However, the profiler was more than happy to continue.
“But I mean, who hasn’t experimented?” Harbinger pulled a hand out of his pocket and pointed at the ME. “Am I right?”
The doctor responded by grinding the butt of his cigar between his teeth.
Harbinger looked like he took the aggressive gesture as a compliment and turned back to Nicole and Ruben with a grin. “Focusing on the most obvious suspects, those with a biology background, was your first mistake.”
Ruben tried to keep his tone calm, even though he was anything but. “If you hear hoof beats, you should think horse, rather than zebra.”
“With a serialist like this?” The profiler pointed to the body laid out it in its gruesome form. “You’d best be looking for Hyracotherium.”
Ruben was sure that he should know the reference, but it took Nicole to fill in the blank.
“The ancestor of the horse,” Nicole stated.
“And zebra,” the profiler interjected.
Nicole continued on. “It was the size of a dog and spotted.”
Harbinger gave a slow nod of approval to Nicole. “This killer obviously has a fascination with anatomy. However, clearly he doesn’t have any professional background in the field.”
“And how exactly would you know that?” Ruben demanded. The profiler sideshow had gone on long enough. Time to show everyone that it was only a man standing in front of them, not some kind of psychic.
“By the way he selects his victims,” Harbinger responded, sounding as if Ruben had just asked him if the sky was blue.
Nicole’s eyes darted to Ruben’s then shot back to the profiler. “So far there hasn’t been a pattern. The killer is choosing his victims at random.”
“Oh,” Harbinger said in a singsong voice. “You two are so adorable. Random? There is nothing random about any of this.”
Counting to five, Ruben simply did not have the patience to make it to ten. He responded. “Put it all down on paper, Harbinger, and I’ll have a look.” He turned to the knot of people standing just within earshot. “And let’s wrap this crime scene up.”
EMTs, CSIs, and cops dispersed before him, some bumping into others in their haste. Ruben did not feel sorry for them in the least. Focus was distinctly lacking today, and he intended to bring it back.
“What do you mean, not random?” Nicole asked. Jesus, she just wouldn’t let it go, would she? When did she forget the meaning of “having your partner’s back?”
“Best guess?” Harbinger said, although Ruben was beginning to fear that the profiler didn’t guess at anything. “Online dating.”
Finally the guy swung at a pitch and missed. “We’ve checked their computer search history,” Ruben rushed on, “including any hidden cached sites. I can say with absolute certainty they were not contacted through social dating sites.”
“Ah,” Harbinger cooed. “Absolute certainty. You almost make this too easy.”
Face burning, Ruben stifled the response he would like to give the FBI profiler. Before he could think of a retort that did not use the F-word, Nicole stepped forward.
“Beyond the lack of evidence, the victims are a mix of men and women.”
The profiler cocked his head. “And everyone is honest online? He could be posing as a women to men, or just be a man seducing another man, or offering up a monkey in a matador costume. People going to the sites I am thinking of aren’t looking for vanilla options.” Harbinger pointed to the only article of clothing the victim had left to them. “Look at those shoes. Tell me they aren’t date heels.”
Thankfully, Ruben’s cellphone vibrated on his belt. “Torres,” he answered with a bark. He would be grateful for any interruption that ended this performance. As Ruben listened, he became more and more grateful.
“Got it.” He snapped his phone closed. “They’ve brought in Munz and, once again, he does not have an alibi for the time of capture.” He gave a sharp nod to the profiler. “You, of course, are welcome to join us in his interrogation. They are bringing him in as we speak.”
“Naw,” Harbinger said. “I think I’m going to recreate the captures instead, but thanks.”
Well, that was a welcome relief. Ruben felt certain that the profiler would want to tag along, if for nothing more than to disrupt the interview as thoroughly as he had the crime scene.
Ruben turned away from the profiler and headed toward the car. He was a good six steps away when he realized he was alone. Ruben looked to Nicole, who wouldn’t meet his eye. “Something wrong?”
“I just…” Nicole glanced up, but only held eye contact for a fleeting moment. “I think I’m going to stay to see the direction that Harbinger is going.” She rushed on. “Just for a few minutes. I’ll join you at the station.”
Had Nicole just punched him in the gut? Because that was exactly what it felt like. And the profiler certainly seemed to agree, as a cat-that-ate-the-canary grin spread. Ruben wasn’t so insecure that he was worried. He shouldn’t be worried, should he? Of course not.
Pulling his tie out from his shirt, where it had been protected from the gore of the scene, Ruben shrugged. “See you soon, then.”
It was time to prove the profiler wrong.
CHAPTER 2
Nicole watched Ruben stalk away. He didn’t even look back as he opened his car door and got inside. She felt bad, knowing that he would see her interest in the profiler’s methods as some sort of betrayal. Ruben was big on loyalty. Really big on loyalty. Sometimes, though, it seemed he wanted blind loyalty. All for one and one for all. Where did that leave her, though?
With six dead, didn’t they owe it to the victims to explore every possible lead? Even one as bizarre as the one the profiler suggested? To her, the next five minutes represented an investment not only in the case but in her career.
She turned to find the profiler already halfway down the alley. Nicole glanced back over her shoulder as Ruben revved the car. Was it her imagination, or was he stalling in the hope that she would join him? Instead, she gave a wave. Nicole wasn’t sure if he’d seen it or not, as Ruben pulled the car away from the curb and peeled out down the street.
“Well?” Harbinger asked. “That internet café isn’t going to seduce potential victims all by itself.”
Trotting to catch up, Nicole noticed that the profiler ducked under the crime scene tape, but didn’t bother to lift it for her. Not exactly the gentleman. Though Harbinger seemed quite keen to analyze everyone around him, that didn’t mean sh
e couldn’t gain some insight into his character as well.
Dipping under the tape, Nicole followed the profiler as he turned left out of the alley and onto the main street. Half a dozen doors down, he opened the door of an internet café. Bowing, he waved her in.
It was eerie. Almost as if he’d heard her thoughts about his lack of chivalry. She passed by him and entered the café. The denizens were of a motley sort. Some looked homeless while, strangely, others seemed like they had just left work at one of the high-rises a few blocks away.
Harbinger pointed to a woman’s shoes. “Those would be work heels.”
Nicole couldn’t argue. Since all of the victims had been found with only their shoes left on, they had of course thought them to be significant, however it had never occurred to any of them that the victims had been dressed to impress. Given the discrepancy in the victims’ income levels, it was easy to miss. However, no matter how broke a woman was, she usually found a way to have a “date” pair of shoes. They may have been from a Salvation Army store, but they were date-worthy.
Damn it, she should have caught that. On the job, there were few times when being a chick came in handy. This should have been one of them.
The profiler sat down in front of a computer. Nicole waited, but he didn’t type.
“We’re pre-pay only,” the clerk said from behind the counter.
Nicole looked to Harbinger, but he was certainly not reaching for his wallet. She walked over and handed the clerk a twenty. “I’m going to need a receipt for that.”
Once she was sure that she had something to give the reimbursement department, Nicole rejoined the profiler, who was already typing away. Why wasn’t she surprised that he already had a screen name? DrkLvr. Harbinger didn’t waste any time as he popped into a chat room. His eyes scanned down the right hand bar, studying the avatars.
“So which one should I lure first?” he asked.
“Try to lure,” Nicole corrected.
Harbinger grinned. “Sure. Try.”
The profiler’s cockiness should have put her off, but it didn’t. She wasn’t sure if she wanted him to prove her wrong or if she wanted to watch him fail. Each seemed like an equally interesting proposition.
He nodded toward the screen again. “Which one?”
Her eyes darted from the avatars to the chat room, but the profiler put his hands in front of the screen. “Oh, no. No cheating. You can tell everything you need to from the avatars.” Nicole leaned in to study them more closely. “I will give you a hint,” the profiler said. “There are three good candidates, but one is just begging to get lured.”
Was Harbinger just making this up? Setting her up to fail? Sliding her eyes over, she watched as he studied the avatars. His expression seemed sincere. More than sincere. Intense. Like a predator watching his prey from the bushes.
Nicole pointed to Happy420, whose avatar had a marijuana leaf behind a smiley face. Not too creative. “How about him?”
“He is a lurker,” the profiler explained. “Way too much of a slacker to actually leave his bong and meet up with someone.”
“How about SexyMomma?” Nicole asked, pointing to the cartoon figure of Jessica Rabbit with an apron on.
“Your seduction muscles really are out of shape,” Harbinger commented as he pointed to the screen. “Desperation is like a bouquet. It has a scent, a feel, a look to it.” He read off three user names. “HopelessRom, WrkOnWood, and MelissaOTK.”
Nicole looked to each of them. The first had a heavily-airbrushed white rose avatar, the second had a graphic of a woodworking shop, and the other was a picture of a rather attractive woman. “I get the first two, I guess, but what about Melissa? She doesn’t look desperate at all.”
Harbinger chuckled as Nicole sat down next to him. “Because Melissa doesn’t look like that at all. My guess? Add ten years, a hundred pounds, and seven years’ bad luck to get an accurate picture.”
“But won’t anyone she meets recognize the fact that she completely lied about her appearance?”
“Detective, we are in a sex chat room. Lying is their form of currency. Lying to each other. Lying to their spouses. Lying to themselves.”
Nicole still wasn’t satisfied, though. “If her intent is to find a sex partner, isn’t she sabotaging herself?”
“Oh, you really have lived a sheltered life,” the profiler sighed. “She is betting on the fact that anyone she meets will be so, let us say, revved up, that they won’t care what she looks like.”
Wow, that was pretty desperate.
A ding came from the computer, and a request to join a private chat room opened up, from none other than MelissaOTK. The profiler didn’t even have to say “I told you so.” His smirk did it for him.
Harbinger’s fingers flew over the keyboard. “Over your knee or mine?” Nicole was certain her confusion showed up on her face. The profiler explained. “Oh, and another hint was the OTK part of her screen name. Over. The. Knee.”
So Harbinger wasn’t psychic, he just knew the chat room lingo. Nicole didn’t feel quite as much like the dunce in the corner sporting the tall cone hat. Letters flew across the screen as Melissa responded. “How about we alternate?”
To Nicole’s surprise, Kent didn’t go along with that. Instead he typed out, “Sorry. Too much of a top for that.”
“I thought we wanted to lure her?” Nicole asked.
The profiler angled his body toward her. “We don’t just think about the serial killer’s motives. We think like the serial killer. Act like the serial killer.”
The intensity of Harbinger’s gaze took her off guard. Nicole had to suppress another gulp. But if anything, she was a quick learner. “The killer needs someone malleable. Someone he can manipulate.”
Then it hit her. The lack of defensive wounds. The lack of heavy restraint marks. Not all of that was because of the paralytics. The victims must have willingly submitted to the bondage, unaware that they were playing into a serial killer’s dark fantasy.
“He’s picking submissives,” Nicole blurted out.
Harbinger nodded. “I noticed a distinct lack of discussion regarding that aspect of the victimology in Mr. Handshake’s report.”
Actually, it was worse than that. Ruben was dead set against the notion that these killings were sexually motivated. He was so sure that the killer’s entire emphasis was on sadism. The concept had never quite sat right with her, however she had had nothing to back up her instinct. Until now.
Melissa’s response popped up. “Intriguing. So UR more Marquis than Don Quixote?”
“Marquis de Sade?” Harbinger typed. “In my eyes a man not very creative and in my mind a tad bit lazy. Don’t we think my fingers could accomplish so much more than IM’ing?”
Nicole shifted uncomfortably in her chair. She was no prude by any means, but this was feeling a bit too much like being a voyeur, even if the profiler’s part in it wasn’t real. Right? This was an act. A ruse. It had to be, right?
Before she could decide, Melissa’s answer appeared. “I will only meet in a public place.”
“Then onward to something a little more private?” Harbinger responded.
“We will see…”
The profiler leaned back. “Yeah, right,” he said, then typed, “Do you know the Decadence Café?”
Melissa’s answer was nearly instantaneous. “Intimately.”
Harbinger raised an eyebrow at Nicole as he typed. “10pm.” The profiler didn’t even wait for a response. He logged off, then pushed the keyboard away from him. “And that is how it is done.”
It couldn’t be that easy, could it? Was he really that skilled at luring, or had he just gotten lucky? Nicole was pretty sure she knew the answer, but she wanted confirmation.
“And how about luring a man?” Nicole questioned.
Harbinger’s eyes scanned over her face. Her skin felt like it was encoded with Braille. How much could the profiler read? Then the inspection was over, as Harbinger laced his fingers toget
her and then cracked them. “Watch and learn.”
The profiler logged into yet another account. Mr9x5. Nicole cocked her head. “That seems a bit…mild,” she noted.
“Those aren’t hours I am referring to,” Harbinger stated as he found a male-male chat room. “They are inches.”
“Inches of —” Nicole stopped herself, unfortunately understanding the part of the body he was measuring. She was certain her cheeks were a ruddy pink. And they did not cool down any as Harbinger launched into his domination of the room. The men were lined up to join him.
Then, in rapid succession, the profiler switched accounts, hopping into chat room after chat room. He set up ménages. He set up foursomes. He even found someone who thought a monkey in a matador’s costume sounded like a good idea.
“I think you’ve made your point,” Nicole conceded.
“I do like to be thorough,” Harbinger answered then angled the keyboard toward her. “So? Your turn?”
Nicole pushed back from the object like it was a rattlesnake, not even caring that her face was probably showing every bit of revulsion she felt. Her head shook back and forth. “No, I’m good.”
* * *
Kent watched the detective sputter for a few more moments, not even listening to her words. They were meaningless. Her expressions, however, were fascinating. To watch her go from panic, to rejection, to her eyes flickering over to the keyboard. Did she even realize that her feet had changed position and were now pointing toward him rather than toward the door? Funny how people did not know what they truly wanted.
The body, though? The body knew. Her eyes were dilated slightly. Her eyelids wide. Her lips slightly parted. She was ready to take in whatever came next. Did she even know that her fingers were twitching slightly? Getting ready to type?
“You know you want to,” Kent coaxed, inching the keyboard toward her.
Nicole blinked once, then stared down at the keys. “I wouldn’t know how.”
“What do they say?” Kent made sure his tone was silky smooth. He did not want to intrude on the conversation going on in the detective’s head. She was doing more to convince herself than he ever could. “Practice makes perfect.”
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