by Rick Murcer
“We gathered particle material here, including bagging the three tools he used to kill the Blankses. Again, no fingerprints on any of the tools or, for that matter, on the bodies. We did find one oblong, circular imprint on Gladys Blanks’s ankle.
“I used to smoke as a kid, and I remember the flip lighter I had. It looks like the oval cylinder where the flame comes from, to me. We’ll research that more. But if it is, that might help us to at least determine the lighter make and model. Again, not much, but it could be something.
“There were no blood traces anywhere in the house, except those on the bodies. We’re not hopeful that those will lead to the killer. We have both labs, the FBI’s and Miami-Dade’s, working overtime to process everything we’ve gathered, so we hope to have more info in a few hours that could help create leads.
“There was nothing too exciting outside the house that might lead to a suspect, but we’ll see.”
Dean circled the table with his gaze.
“That’s about all we have for now. We’ll update you as soon as we have anything else. This guy just didn’t make any mistakes, but science has a way of finding the smallest error in judgment. We hope that works here.”
He sat down, folding his hands over the file in front of him.
Manny heard Sophie as she leaned over and whispered to her husband. “That presentation made me hot. Just saying.”
For the first time today, Dean smiled. The girl knew what she was doing.
“Thanks, Special Agent Mikus. That helps, if nothing more than to show us what kind of man we’re truly dealing with. Let’s keep this rolling,” said Marie.
Josh then nodded at Belle, and she returned his look wearing a nervous smile.
“All right. We’ve gone over all of our FBI databases for killing details, signatures if you will, similar to the one this killer seems to be fond of, including INTERPOL, cold case files, and any other help we can elicit.
“Thanks to your research team and a little help from Quantico, we were able to find three unsolved cases in the last twenty years that had at least partial MOs to this killer’s. One in Texas, about eighteen years ago, one in Los Angles fifteen years ago, and one in Saint Kitts, about twenty years ago. All had, to varying degrees, elements that could be related to the way this man goes about his business.”
Belle threw up her hands in disgust, her eyes filled with sparks. “Listen to me. I’m calling it his business instead of what it is; a perverted, psychopathic method of murder.”
“You’re right, Special Agent Simmons. All the more reason to get our hands on him,” said Detective James.
“That’s why we’re here. At any rate, the two murders in the states had images carved into the bodies, and by the looks of things, both probably were killed by the same unsub. That killer didn’t use initials in the forehead or have the exactness of our perp. That killer may have moved on to something else, died, or simply quit, as some serial killers do.”
“I’m fairly sure, after discussing it with our staff, that we should focus our efforts on the third case in Saint Kitts.”
“Why is that?” asked Marie.
“The MO fits better, for one, and the victim in Saint Kitts . . .” Belle stopped, glancing at Manny, a quick rise in pain on her face, as if begging for him to take over. He did.
“The victim in Saint Kitts was only fourteen. If that was his first victim, then he may have been around her age and thought he could control her better. If we know anything about these killers, it’s that they start this type of thing early,” said Manny.
“You mean the Macdonald triad theory?” asked Penny Craig.
“Sort of, although lately that combination of circumstances—bed wetting, fire starting, and animal cruelty—may not be as related as once thought. Those patterns may simply be a result of developmental behavior and related to childhood humiliation,” answered Manny.
“We think if the Saint Kitts murder and these four recent deaths are related, then possibly something, some event, may have triggered the renewing of this behavior,” said Belle, regaining her composure. “Just know we’re going to run the full spectrum of investigation on that cold case and see what it leads to, if anything. We will get to the possible profile in a minute, but we need to share with you what’s going on with the investigative side of this case.
“With the help of the city and private store owners, we’re pulling every video record available that leads to and from the first crime scene. We know where the first couple lived and also where they had dinner. It may not lead to anything, but it’s a shot.
“There are officers going door to door in that neighborhood, as well as the Blanks’s subdivision, asking questions. We’re even talking to conservation officers, on duty and off, at the Everglades who might have seen something or someone out of the ordinary the day of the murders or even a few days before. Given the nature of our killer’s artistic tendencies, we’re also contacting local art schools and colleges to see if there might be a connection that someone recognizes. Manny will talk more about what that might mean later.”
Josh added, “We’re also doing all of the mundane, routine investigations that don’t pay off all that often, like cell phone records, credit card history, GPS locations, work profiles, and associates, as well as personal associations with friends and family. It’d be nice to find a link there.”
He looked at Belle. “Thank you, Belle. I think that’s about all that we have at this point. I want to give you all a few minutes to organize your thoughts, take a pee break, whatever, and we’ll meet back here in ten to go over your questions and talk about possible profiles to share with your staffs.”
“Before we do that, I have to ask Manny this,” said Marie.
“Fire away,” said Manny, suspecting what was coming.
“Belle said something about how there might be an association with the killer and Saint Kitts. Twenty years ago. Isn’t that a long time for someone who is driven by a perverted, sick psychology to not express it somehow, even without a trigger event?”
Bingo. Marie had touched on the sixty-four-thousand-dollar question. Hell, it was probably worth sixty-four million.
“If there is a connection to that case—and that’s a big ‘if’ at this point, but say there is—then we are dealing with a different kind of killer here, one who has had complete control over his impulses and motivation.”
“What does that mean, exactly?” asked Detective James, standing.
Manny paused, the words forming in his mind causing him to chill.
“It means we’ve got a killer with a heart.”
CHAPTER-21
The sun had begun its habitual, eternal fall from the purple and orange sky as she stood in front of the small window facing the west, arms folded over her breasts, contemplating the day’s events and conversations.
More than ever, she was convinced that the plan, the chain of events she would begin, was right. She’d endured much. It was someone else’s turn, which was inevitable. In that process, she would receive back at least a part of what she’d lost. Although fully recovering everything that had made up a promising future, even for one such as her, would take an H. G. Wells time machine to recapture.
Time.
Was there anything so unrelenting? Was any single thing more unforgiving? Did any soul go untouched by its merciless agenda?
No, none. She supposed there were people who made peace with it, even embraced the consequences of its character. But for the masses, time reminded them of their regrets and their own shortcomings as they pondered another future . . . if those regrets had been, instead, bold actions regarding their true desires.
Reaching out to the window, she touched the cool glass, leaving ghostly impressions of her fingertips.
Her smile came slowly.
She wouldn’t be one of those people with regrets. She wouldn’t wallow in the here and now and take life as it came her way. Not anymore.
Like those fading imprints on th
e glass, her future wouldn’t evaporate into oblivion. Instead, it would be a bright, soaring light for her to enjoy and the world to marvel at . . . or she’d die trying.
This screwed-up rock and the path it had put her on owed her that, at the very least.
Moving to the other side of her room, the faint aroma of flowers she didn’t really recognize drifting to her, she opened the closet door. She removed the suitcase from the closet, placing it gently on the bed.
As she stood straight, his face came to her again. Beautiful, handsome, full of promise, and the only one who had mattered to her from the day they met. But he, and his essence, was now out of her life in ways that no one but her could imagine.
All because of . . . them.
Fighting off the incessant, raging urge to scream, she was finally able to unclench her fists to begin packing. She had enough time.
The idea that he was gone filled her mind with a different emotion. She was now keenly aware of the excitement that revenge and justice could create and the righteousness of it.
It was almost time to set her desires in motion and free herself from who she’d been.
Who could ask for more?
CHAPTER-22
“How’s he doing?” asked Manny.
Sophie moved away from the window of the breakroom toward Manny, stuffing the phone in her pocket.
“How is who doing?”
“Alex. You just called him, right?”
“No, I didn’t,” said Sophie, looking like a school kid who’d just been found guilty of some major indiscretion.
“Really?”
“Damn you, Williams. Okay. I called his butt and Barb’s too. Neither answered so I left them messages, okay?”
“Okay. I was going to do it, so I’m glad you did.”
“I told them both that you were using the john and you made me call.”
He smiled. “I don’t take that long in the restroom.”
“Hey, sometimes you do. Remember that time in Cozumel, right after dinner? You were in there for, like, a year.”
Manny instinctively put his hand on his stomach, recalling in great detail the evening to which she was referring.
“Good point. I don’t think I’ll eat escargot again any time soon.”
Looking at his watch, he frowned. “He should have been out of OR by now and half coherent. Barb didn’t answer either, huh?”
“Nope. I even called her twice. I figure they must have turned the phones off in case they thought you were going to bother them. Or the two of them are taking the new hand for a test run in ways I’m trying to get out of my head, you know?”
“Whoa. That’s warped, even for you.”
She shrugged. “You knew what you were getting when you recommended me for this gig.”
“I did. I should have known better.”
“Should have known better than what?” asked Josh as he and Belle approached.
“Long story,” said Manny.
“It always is,” said Josh.
He glanced around. “Where’s Dean?”
“Vending machine break and then he said he wanted to go outside for a few minutes to clear his head,” said Manny.
“I can relate,” said Belle. “I’m not used to that whole public speaking arena either.”
“He’s a shy boy at heart for sure. Unless we’re alone, then that’s a different story. Did I ever tell you about the elevator in Vegas?”
“No, and you aren’t going to tell them now,” said Dean as he stepped to Sophie’s side. “Some things are sacred.”
Her smile was dazzling as she reached for Dean’s hand. “Why yes, yes they are. But that doesn’t mean we can’t shock them with details from time to time.”
“It does to me,” said Manny.
“On that note, let’s get this done. We’ve got a killer to catch and not all that much time to do it,” said Josh.
Manny nodded. “Agreed. Before we do that, I have a favor to ask.”
“Sure. What?”
“I’d like our folks in Quantico to chart the last two months of homicides in Miami and South Florida.”
“Okay. Chart them how?”
“By the address where the body was found, cause of death, time of death, age of the victim, and home residence of the victim. Then put it in a graph format so we can check it against the city and area maps.”
“Easy enough, but why?”
“It’s just a hunch that’ll probably be nothing.”
“We know about you and your hunches. What does that mean, Williams?” asked Sophie.
“We’ll talk more inside, but this guy seems to like patterns; and he’s had some whacky ways to show it so far, especially considering the two hidden messages at the scenes.”
“You think he started sooner than two days ago?” asked Belle.
“If it’s the same guy from Saint Kitts, I’d say yes. But I’m still having a hard time reading this one,” said Manny.
“Will do, then. You four get in there, and I’ll be in soon.” Josh walked away, phone to his ear.
Manny led the way back into the conference room and stood at the table as everyone settled in. During those few minutes, he ran through his mind everything he wanted to share. He wanted to give the locals all they needed to find this guy, but some of his ideas needed to be kept close for now. Panic on any level was still panic.
“I want to make this short and sweet,” he began. “But it doesn’t always end up that way.”
“Whatever you think,” said Marie. “We need to find this dick, and now.”
“All right. This man is younger; I believe thirty-five or so. He’s most certainly Caucasian. By the height of his injuries on the first two victim’s bodies while bound to the tree, I’d say around five foot ten. He’s fairly strong to have gotten the body of Gladys Blanks up to the fan in her room, so I’d say he’s in pretty good shape.
“He’s bright, well organized, as indicated by how long he takes with the victims, and has a purpose for what he’s doing.”
“What’s that?” asked Penny Craig.
Manny ran that question around in his mind for about the millionth time. Just like all of the other instances, he couldn’t get a grip on the answer.
“I’m not sure. No, that’s not right. We simply don’t know. He loves the display, so that indicates a certain narcissism. Yet within that display, he takes unprecedented care in finishing what he started. It could be he thinks he owes it to them, or that may suggest he has some emotional attachment to them.”
“You said he has a heart, is that what you meant by your last statement?” asked Marie.
“It is. We’ve seen dozens of these cases, and none of those cases involved this kind of emotional commitment. I think that’s where the VALENTINO reference comes from.”
“You think he believes he’s a great lover?” asked Duane James, frowning. “I don’t follow.”
“Love isn’t always about the love of your life or some new boyfriend or girlfriend. It can take on a thousand faces, as we’ve all seen in our professional and personal lives. The cycle of domestic abuse and violence is an example.
“The abuse victim keeps coming back to the abuser because he or she knows nothing different. And, to boot, the abuser says he’ll never do it again. Both are forms of love, as convoluted as that is.”
Manny choose his next words carefully. “This killer loves his victims and sees himself as the greatest lover in their lives. Somehow, I believe that he thinks of himself as doing them some great, selfless favor by killing them the way he does. In his mind, he thinks he is being selfless, like all noble lovers are.”
“Is it possible that he thinks he’s saving them from seeing the world go deeper into the crapper?” asked Marie. “Like a savior?”
“Maybe. But I don’t think he’d do what he does to the bodies if that were the case, it would probably be a bullet to the head. No suffering, no pain.”
He didn’t want to go too far into that line o
f thinking yet, so he was glad that no one had asked another question. He couldn’t have answered it anyway. He didn’t know why this man felt love for his victims. There was no precedent for this behavior, at least that he’d seen.
Taking a bottle of water from the table, he gathered a slow drink and continued.
“The patterns on the victims’ bodies indicate his artistic ability. He’s talented and seems to have the ability to make perfect shapes, even with the abnormal tools he uses. According to our sources, that’s unusual in itself. As we mentioned, we’ve sent out several teams of blues and detectives to interview art schools, universities, and even graphic art firms for possible leads.”
“But he may have never attended school around here or could be a freelancer, right?” asked one of the other detectives.
“True, but we’re going with one of the best FBI theories ever. The one that says if you throw enough shit against a wall, some of it will stick.”
There was ripple of laughter and a few head nods. Police work was often just that kind of trial and error.
“There is one more thing we need to discuss. It has to do with details we found at each scene that you won’t see in your files. This man is very proficient in an art form called Gestalt.
“We’ve all seen the pictures and paintings where there is more than one image created by the artist if you look at it correctly. For instance, the picture of the old and young woman drawn from the same set of lines. Or the painting of a face that is visible if you look at the lines of a tree.”
“Thanks for the art lesson, but what does that have to do with this case?” asked Duane James.
“I’ll tell you. This killer used this art form to spell—in blood, by the way—‘Valentino is free’ at the first crime scene. He then used a wood-burning tool to do the same thing at the Blanks’s home. The only difference was the message. The second one said ‘And so are you.’