by Hugh Macnab
When I ‘m finished, she plays back to me what she heard me say, but in psychiatrist-speak.
‘It’s most likely your girl has been through a psycho-sexual trauma either once in her childhood, or as is more often the case, many times over a period of life. Close family members commit over ninety percent of cases such as this. Most commonly, fathers, uncles, or even brothers. Sometimes, it can also be female members of the family who are responsible. Sometimes for sexual reasons, other times out of jealousy or a desperate need to control something in their own miserable lives.’
As she tells me this, I’m thinking how lucky I’ve been with my close family.
‘You should check for runaways from fostering, or residential care homes for the young. You should look for someone who disappears from the system around age of twelve. If you are right, she has been killing since then, without significant breaks, so has outsmarted the system repeatedly. You have a list of at least some Counties you know she has been in. In each of these, there will be places where local law enforcement knows someone like this can hide. They are often ignored, because there are too many such places, or because as long as they don’t cause problems, they are best left alone.’
As she tells me this, I can’t help but think of Joey, Trace and her friends hiding out at the Project.
‘I would need to see the details of each of the homicides to confirm my next statement, but I think you will find she is a quick learner and her kills are becoming more sophisticated. She likes the knife because for her, this is all personal. She likes to get up close and uses her age and vulnerability like a fly trap for unsuspecting male predators.’
‘The hunted becomes the hunter?’ I suggest.
‘Exactly. She’s not like most other serial killers. She does not appear to be speeding up, needing more and more, quicker and quicker action. She is not addicted to killing. This is very rare, as is her age. You asked why she would use a dominatrix?’
I nod. I’m already almost in a trance just listening to her voice. I need to pay more attention.
‘There’s a part of her that doesn’t understand why she is doing what she is. A part that feels guilty and needs to be punished. I suspect not a very large part. But, one other avenue you could follow, would be to see if she has had these needs satisfied elsewhere.’
‘You mean, she may have seen more than one dominatrix?’
‘Yes. Or else she has visited your particular dominatrix more than once.’
Something I will have to follow up on.
‘So what about the expression of her face. What does it tell you?’
‘Absolution. She is paying her dues. But that frees her up and freshens her intent. As this picture was from the end of her session, I would say your dominatrix has delivered. She has a satisfied client.’
I’m holding the picture in my hands and studying it. She’s right. I can see it now, but would never have got there on my own. Del Roy has more to add.
‘If you note, all her kills have been men, which tells me it was one or more men who abused her when she was a younger child. I have heard of cases where a father shares his daughter with his brothers, or a brother shares his sister with his friends. It’s hard for anyone to come to grips with not just the sexual-physical side of this type of event, but the breaking of unwritten family behaviors and rules. She will probably have lost the ability to trust anyone, and may be a complete loner.
As she moves through the under-world most of us deny - where the homeless and addicts live - she will be virtually invisible. Although this will help her hide, she will be lonely and extremely vulnerable should anyone be kind to her.
She has grown through puberty while pursuing her self-appointed task, and given her lifestyle, you are looking for someone undoubtedly suffering from malnutrition, possibly with stunted growth. Underweight. Sallow complexion. Sunken eyes. You should have your police artist bring your three-year-old photograph of her, and I will help him change it.’
Luisa del Roy sits back and looks directly at me.
‘One last thing, detective. If you end in up front of her. Don’t talk to her like you might someone threatening suicide. This young woman does not fit any previous profile of a serial killer. She does not conform and that makes her unpredictable, and most likely, very dangerous.’
I nod my understanding.
‘Questions?’
Del Roy has stunned me into silence. My mind either too full of additional information, or just blank. She fills the awkward gap.
‘Sorry, detective. I’m a little intense when I get going.’
‘I can see that.’
‘It’s one reason I left the FBI.’
I nod.
‘Don’t worry if you struggled to keep up with everything I said. I set my cell to record before I started talking. I’ll send the recording to you and you can share it with your team. I’ll also have Maggie type it up and forward it to you.’
‘Thanks, doctor.’
‘Luisa, please.’
‘Sure.’
‘And I’m still seeing you personally in a few days, right?’
‘Yes, you are. I’m looking forward to it.’
With that, she stands and shakes my hand, saying that she hopes she has been of some use, and that I should send her the files from each homicide as soon as possible.
I promise to do just that.
When I’m leaving, I ask her receptionist to call me a cab while I go downstairs and stand outside in the mini-mall to wait, thinking over everything I’ve just heard.
I need to get the team started searching records for adoption and care-homes back over the years preceding the killings. This will be a huge undertaking as we’re looking across the entire State. With luck, perhaps we can nail who this girl is. Then get the police artist up here to update the photograph I have of her. We’ll also need to convince each County to go into their own Projects and find out if she has been there. They won’t want to do that, so some persuasion will be necessary. Finally, when the case files arrive from the other Counties, get them copied and sent up here.
When the cab arrives, I reflect that Luisa del Roy is even better than I thought. And that helps me accept the more personal thing she said to me on my previous meeting. That there might really not be very much wrong with me. When she had told me that, it gave me hope. And that makes me wonder what I’ve just done to Trace the previous evening.
29
Back in the office, I hand the recording of my conversation with Kathy into the conference room the team has sequestered, then make for my cubicle. While they work through del Roy’s comments, I intend to spend an hour making some progress with the assault on Pamela Wilson. It’s time I bring Xavier and Tyrone in. But to do what I have in mind, I’ll need help from the District Attorney’s office. I need to offer a deal and play one of these guys against the other.
I don’t want to call the District Attorney directly, as he was Bossy-boot’s father. That would be too weird. So, I call one of the ADAs I’ve worked with in the past. I talk him through the case and my plan, and he agrees to offer a deal and to attend meetings with me the following morning. I hang up feeling good. These two guys are in for a shock.
First, I call Xavier Rivera and invite him down at ten the following morning. He tells me he’ll bring his attorney. I agree with him that it would be the wise thing to do. I actually want an attorney whispering in his ear. Attorneys are usually easier to play against each other than their clients, in my experience. They’re familiar with deals, and understand how to weigh up the probabilities of conviction and the likely sentences. Clients are too suspicious. Attorneys are pragmatic.
I hang up and immediately called Tyrone Ross at the gym. I have to wait while they find him, and when he comes to the phone, he’s breathless. I suspect I’ve dragged him out of the ring. I make him the same invitation. He gets stroppy. I simply repeat the invite. Then he tries to tell me he doesn’t see the need to talk with me any further. So, I tell hi
m I’m sending a patrol for him within the next twenty minutes. That I don’t have time to see him until the following morning, so he should go and shower, then prepare to spend a night in the cells.
He suddenly changes his mind and tells me he will attend in the morning, but he’ll be bringing his attorney.
With that all set up, I book two small interview rooms downstairs for ten the following morning, and check that I have all the information and photographs I need. I’m good to go. No, I’m better than that. I’m on a white steed, delivering justice for Pamela Wilson - a woman who thrashed people for money. A blackmailer and quite probably a killer. Still, she had been horribly abused in a most degrading fashion and those responsible shouldn’t escape punishment.
I arrive back in the team conference room when they’re discussing ordering Chinese for lunch. No way can I spring for Chinese, so I tell them I’m fine. Dene leaves to place the order, and Jamie updates me on what the team have been doing since I left the previous night. They start with the order of deaths.
The earliest was six years ago in Tallahassee in the north. Then five years ago across on the north-east coast in Jacksonville. Four years ago it was Gainesville to the south-west of Jacksonville. Three years ago it was Orlando in central Florida, then two years ago it was Fort Pierce over on the lower east coast and finally the last death was in Miami. There’s an obvious trail of death from north to south, zigzagging on the way.
The two remaining names are living here in Naples, and up in Tampa, which will more or less complete her round trip of Florida.
It is excellent work and suggests where we should start looking for a young twelve or thirteen-year-old girl in County records. Up in Leon county. Where everything started.
Kathy tells me that they’ve created a list of the Counties involved and shared them out, two a piece. Dene has Leon and Duval in the North. Jamie has Alachua and Orange in Central Florida, leaving Kathy with Palm Beach and Miami-Dade. Each has already been in touch with designated counterparts and requested the case files.
At that point, Dene returns, lunch-mission accomplished. The food will arrive in thirty minutes. My stomach’s rumbling at the thought of it. I’ve long since burned through my waffles, and extra coffee just isn’t enough.
As if I’m not impressed enough by the team’s achievements, Dene now explains how they’ve already narrowed down the two names on the list who are, as yet, believed to be still alive. Jon smith and Joseph Wright.
There are three possible Jon Smiths in Naples, but only two Joseph Wrights in Tampa. They’ve already contacted Hillsborough and asked for someone to talk with each of the two possible targets in Tampa. To warn them they may be in danger.
Jamie, Dene and Kathy have each taken a possible local target in Naples, contacted them initially by phone to give them early warning and to arrange to meet them personally later in the afternoon. All three are coming into the office. No doubt confused and worried. By rights, one of them really should be.
I can’t imagine how these people must feel having it explained to them that their names are on a serial killer’s hit list. What are the chances?
I ask the team what they’re planning on tackling next. They want to see if they can figure out why these particular people are being targeted. Pamela Wilson had caught the young girl on video three years before. Only three of the homicides had occurred by then. The three furthest to the north.
Yet she was in Naples visiting a dominatrix with all six homicide names already on her list. Then she apparently goes north again to Orlando to the first of three more kills, before presumably coming back to Naples for kill number seven. This doesn’t fit with the nice orderly flow we mapped out for her, moving gradually from north to south.
I shudder to think she had this whole State-wide killing spree planned from the age of twelve.
It seems to us like somewhere in her route she’s left us a clue, but we can’t figure out what it is.
After some inconclusive discussion, we’re moving on just as they send the food up from reception.
Suddenly, the energy level in the room shoots up as they start opening boxes and sharing food around. I’m getting ready to make some feeble excuse to duck out, when Kathy says that there’s way too much for the three of them and that I should help myself. Boy, I’m conflicted, but not for long. Hunger wins out. I swear to myself, that if I ever dig my way out of this financial hole I’m in, I’ll pay everyone back. But they have about as much chance as my papa has. Easy to make these promises. Much harder to keep them. Which is why I remain silent.
We continue talking as we eat, but move nothing on. When we finish, I thank everyone for sharing lunch. Kathy says, jokingly, that lunch will be on me the next time. I try a laugh it off, but it’s a struggle.
We break up after that with them each heading to meet with their respective Jon Smiths, and me intending to get on with my prep for the next morning’s sessions with Mark’s gym buddies.
I haven’t even sat down when Jerry arrives.
‘Fancy a coffee upstairs?’
On the way up, I ask him how he’s doing after his fall through the floor at the Project. He shrugs it off, saying a few painkillers, and he’s more than ready to go get some bad guys. I can relate to that. His mentioning painkillers makes me realize for the first time, I haven’t taken any all day. Another first. On the way, I also tell him about my late night conversation with Chico. But don’t get the response I’m expecting. He just grins. No ‘be careful’, or ‘watch your back’. Just a stupid grin. What am I supposed to make of that?
Shortly afterwards, we’re sitting in the conference room in Narcs. Jerry’s entire team are present. Something’s about to happen, and I’m getting a sinking feeling in my gut. It’s something big and I don’t need anything else on my plate right now.
Jerry kicks off the discussion.
‘I heard from Dade County this morning. They busted a dealer in the south-side of Miami yesterday. He has a list of previous convictions and is looking at going away for a long stretch. Longer than he fancies, apparently. He’s offering a deal. He wants to walk but that’s just his starting point. He knows that’s never going to happen. But he’s also confident we will want what he has to offer.’
At that he goes silent and looks round the room, from face-to-face.
‘Anyone care to guess?’
No takers. He carries on.
‘He wants to give us the Naples branch of the Savage City Gangsters.’
‘You’re kidding, Jerry?’ I say, in shock.
‘Nope. He says he knows where they hang out. Where they cut the drugs. How and when they’re supplied. How they distribute. He even hinted that there was something going down in the Project.’
One guy let out a low whistle.
‘Will Dade County deal with him?’
‘They say it’s up to us. If we want to take these guys out, they’ll do a deal. What do you think?’
At that point, the meeting breaks into a noisy rabble, with everyone talking at once, each trying to shout louder that the other. I don’t become involved. I’m just quietly recalling the conversation I had with Chico the previous night back at my apartment. How the little fucker had tried to intimidate me. I guess I’m smiling when Jerry speaks to me.
‘Looks like your in, Sammy?’
‘You bet your ass I am.’
Will I ever learn?
30
An hour later, I’m back in my cubicle, thinking about the Serial-killer case again. I’m struggling with a lot of small details that either don’t fit, or aren’t yet fully understood. Like, how did this girl develop such a State-wide plan when she was only twelve? Why was she visiting the dominatrix in Naples after three homicides - when this was way off her north to south route? Why did Pamela Wilson video-record the girl, when she clearly didn’t fit her retirement plan criteria? And why would she have kept it? Did that result in her being killed three years later? Why did the girl choose Pamela Wilson in the fi
rst place?
The more I sit thinking, the more I don’t understand about this whole case.
A cough behind me, snaps me out of my thoughts, and I turn to find it’s Jimi.
‘I thought I should let you know how I’m getting on finding the guy who robbed the garage you asked about.’
Of course I’ve forgotten all about the garage, but try my best to sound enthusiastic.
He tells me he has singled out almost twenty further break-and-entries in the past six months that look like they could be by the same guy. He then says he’s in the process of gathering as much security and street-cam details for all of the locations, and that he’s hopeful he’ll soon have a photo to work with.
I make encouraging sounds and thank him.
He’s about to leave when I ask him if he can handle another task. Part of the big serial-killer case we are all working on.
He gives me that same keen puppy look again.
So, I lay the out the details of the task I want fresh eyes on, and off he goes almost skipping. His enthusiasm takes me back. Is it really only three years since I joined Homicide?
I see in the conference room, the others beginning to drift in, and they’re carrying what looks like the homicide files from the other counties. I make a coffee, and go join in.