by P. D. Martin
“I think I saw him.”
“The killer?” She supports the underneath of my arm.
“Yes.” The pain in my head and eyes eases slightly.
“Could you make him out?”
“No. It was dark. Like it was nighttime or he was in a darkened room. I could only see a shadow. A lurking presence. But I know it was him.”
“You’re as white as a sheet. Do you feel all right?”
“I’ve got a headache. A bad one.”
“I’ll get you some Tylenol. Hold on.” Sam sits me down on her couch.
She returns a few moments later, pills and glass of water in hand. I gobble the pills. The pit of my stomach is filled with hatred, dread and fear. The hatred is his, the killer’s, but the dread and fear are mine. I can’t shake the feeling that something bad is going to happen. I think again of John and the nightmares I had all those years ago.
“Psychics often get very physical reactions when they see things,” Sam says.
I hope my physical and emotional symptoms are just part of the insight and that they’ll fade soon.
“Could you see where he was?”
“No. I was looking at the photo of Jean when it happened, so perhaps it was when he grabbed her.”
“In her apartment?”
I shrug. “I don’t know.”
“Could you tell if it was inside or outside?”
“No. I couldn’t make out anything except for his shape.”
“Well, that’s something. What was his shape like?”
“You think it was in proportion? To me?”
“Let’s assume so.”
“Okay.” I run with the idea. Height and weight are something at least. I stand up. “I’d say he was about three inches taller than me.” I hold my flat palm above my head. “I’m five-ten, so that makes him about six-one.”
“Okay. Was he skinny? Fat?” Sam scribbles on her notepad.
“He had a muscular build. Not fat, but broad.” I pause. “That’s it.”
Sam nods. “It’s something.”
“You reckon?”
“Well, if Flynn and Jones start interviewing a short, fat guy, we can steer them away.”
I laugh. “You should try stand-up.”
“I don’t like big audiences,” Sam says, but I can’t imagine it’s true.
“Do the cops have any suspects?”
“Not yet. They won’t even have anyone to run the profile against.”
“What about the note? Anything on that?”
“Nothing interesting yet. Marty’s got the guys in Questioned Documents on it, but the perp used a standard blue Bic ballpoint, the type you can pick up just about anywhere.”
“Paper?” I ask. But if the guy knew to use a run-of-the-mill pen, he probably did the same with the paper.
“Spirax notebook paper. And who knows how many of them have been sold in the U.S. in the past year.”
“Great. No prints, I take it?”
“Nothing. The note’s going to a handwriting expert for analysis tomorrow and they’ve got a forensic linguist looking at it too.”
“Maybe that’ll give us something.”
“They’re usually pretty good at pinpointing where the writer was raised, based on the dialect. And the handwriting expert will be able to tell us if he was trying to disguise his writing,” Sam says.
“Where he grew up could help narrow things down.”
“Especially if we cross-reference that with the VICAP info when it comes through.”
“Surely we’ll have to get some hits. Listen, I’m sorry I didn’t look over the profile last night.”
“Don’t worry. You had other things on your mind.”
The thought of Josh eases my headache a little more. “Back to business?”
“You don’t look up to it, girl. I doubt you’d even be much good with Marco tonight.”
“Very funny. My headache’s going. Let’s sit for a couple of minutes and see how I feel.”
“Okay, but you’re still very pale.”
I rest my head on the top of the couch. I close my eyes for what feels like a minute, but when I open them Sam is nowhere in sight.
“Sam?” I get up from the couch and look at my watch. It’s 9:30 p.m., which means I’ve been asleep for nearly an hour.
“Ah, you’re awake,” Sam says, walking into the living room. She carries a half-full glass of water. “I was just watching TV in my room.”
“Sorry, I can’t believe I fell asleep.”
“Don’t worry. How’s the head?”
“Yeah, it seems to be better. Do you want to get back to it?”
“Do you? I don’t want you feeling sick again, honey.”
“This is all so weird. I don’t know what to do.”
“Why don’t we go through the profile, and you can leave the photos for another time. Besides, maybe Flynn and Jones will have enough with the profile.”
“Sounds good. I don’t know if these visions are going to be productive anyway. So far all they’ve given me is tiny pieces of a much larger jigsaw.”
“I’d still keep them between you and me until you know exactly what you’re dealing with.”
“I don’t think I’ll add it to my résumé quite yet!”
“Sophie Anderson, Profiler and Psychic. I can see your business cards now.”
“Yeah, real good look.” I smile. “Okay, let’s go through this profile.”
Sam puts the printout on the table and we stand over it, ready to go through each element together.
Sex:
Male
Age:
28-35
Race:
Caucasian
Type of offender
Organized—lack of evidence indicates well-planned murders and/or knowledge of crime scenes. High risk—keeps victims for long period of time (more chance of getting caught).
Occupation/employment:
Possibly medical/scientific background—cuts indicate knowledge of how deep to cut before mortally wounding victim plus evidence that pressure bandages were correctly applied to prolong life after fatal wound inflicted. Maybe in law enforcement or related field (perhaps rejected from FBI and/or police force).
Marital status:
Single but sexually active
Dependants:
No
Childhood:
Probably an only child or has much older sibling(s) Good at school Kept to himself at school Awkward with women during his teens His victims represent women he wants Absent father or father abusive to mother
Personality:
Charming, but still slightly introverted Well-spoken
Disabilities:
None
Interaction with victims:
Stalks beforehand. Chooses women and thinks of them as his girlfriends. Chooses low-risk victims—career women, etc. Loves the women, but also punishes them (abusive father?).
Remorse:
No—victims not hidden and eyes open
Home life:
Lives alone or shares with one other. Lives in house (murders committed in basement or garage) or has somewhere to take the victims.
Car:
Van
Intelligence:
High IQ
Education level:
University educated
Outward appearance:
Well-presented and groomed
Criminal background:
Long history of murder—probably in other states—committing murders and refining MO for last 5–10 years, but probably no record. No other criminal background.
Modus operandi (MO):
Abducts in deserted areas, possibly posing as law enforcement.
Signature:
Body positioning
Trophies—jewelry
Media tactics:
Will be following the media—could use media input to draw out the killer.
Perhaps stage a murder and attribute to the killer—he’ll then contact med
ia, police or FBI to set the record straight.
Sam starts. “We’ve covered the age before. Caucasian.”
I nod. Killers tend to hunt within their own racial group. All three of our vics are Caucasian, so it’s a safe bet.
“And we’ve also talked about him being an organized offender. So the next item is occupation. Like we said the other night, a medical or scientific background, perhaps even nursing, is likely. All the nonfatal wounds were very carefully placed without being too deep. For instance, with this wound here—” she points to Jean’s upper arm “—we’ve got a vertical cut that missed her arteries by only a fraction of an inch. Any more to the left and that would have been a fatal wound. And this one here—” she points to a cut on Teresa’s hip “—another fraction of an inch deeper and he would have hit an artery and she would have bled out.”
“Sounds pretty precise,” I say.
“Exactly. If our guy hasn’t studied anatomy formally, he’s taken it upon himself to study it outside of his usual occupation.”
“Med student?”
“Potentially,” Sam says. “Might be something for Flynn and Jones to look into.”
I read from the next section of the profile. “Single, but sexually active.” It makes sense. “I think our guy has had girlfriends in the past, but the fact that he thinks of his victims as girlfriends indicates he’s single at the moment.”
Sam takes a swig of beer. “We can’t rule out the possibility that he’s picking these women up at bars or nightclubs then nabbing them later, after the first meeting, perhaps even after sexual contact.”
“He may have even been in Jean’s apartment. Invited up for a glass of wine.”
“But then someone would have seen him, surely.”
“Were the victims at the bars alone? Did their friends see them dancing with some guy before they disappeared?” I ask.
“Flynn and Jones haven’t turned up anything like that. No common males in their lives. Jean was a party girl, though.”
“Jean was his first in D.C. Maybe when he was stalking her she noticed him. Thought he was an interested guy. A suitor.”
“The boyfriend said she liked to play the field,” Sam says.
I run my hands across the photos. The victims. “The killer must have a face. Someone must have seen him.”
“Let’s say he’s a cop, he could get into a girl’s apartment that way, and probably get them in a car, spinning some story about a relative or friend in need. Jean may have been different. But perhaps she never met the guy before either. The glass could have been hers from the night before.”
“Yep, the evidence is vague for Jean. I like the cop angle. Maybe he’s met them before, maybe not. But he either is a cop or poses as one. That gets him the trust he needs to abduct them in the first place.”
We move to the next section of the profile.
“No kids,” Sam says.
“Agreed. Goes back to the girlfriend angle. So, his childhood.”
Sam continues. “He’s confident, overly confident, which is often a trait of an only child. He also keeps to himself, and that correlates with a single child or perhaps a child with much older siblings.”
“The menopause pregnancy?” I’ve heard of it happening. The woman thinks she’s starting menopause but then finds out she’s pregnant.
“Exactly. He may have felt unwanted, or in the shadow of much older, successful siblings. So he’s trying to prove himself. Show them what he’s capable of.” Sam moves on. “Given his knowledge of anatomy I’d say he’s smart, and this would have showed through in his grades at school.”
“Whether he got into med school or not, he studies hard.” I read the next point out aloud. “Kept to himself at school, just a few good friends.”
“I think at least in his youth he was socially awkward. That’s why he keeps the girls for so long, because he thinks he doesn’t make a good first impression.”
“Confident in killing, but not confident with women,” I say.
Sam nods hesitantly. “What do you think?”
I pause. “I like it. In some ways contradictory, but not really. Lots of intelligent guys are overconfident about their intellect and underconfident with women.”
“It ties in with the next two points here too.” She indicates the childhood section. “Awkward with women during his teens and the victims he goes for now reflect his taste in women.”
“What’s your line on the father?”
Sam takes a sip of water from her glass. “Two things. The way he controls the women, it’s about power, almost a discipline. Perhaps he grew up as the man in the house and took on a disciplinarian role and he likes to inflict that on others. Also, he treats these women as his girlfriends, yet he cuts them up. Like he’s punishing them. That could be about the discipline or it could be he saw that sort of relationship growing up.”
“The husband who beats his wife and then tells her how much he loves her.”
Sam nods. “Personality,” she says, moving on. “He must be well spoken and well groomed to fit into the places he went when stalking his victims, especially Teresa. She was a high flyer and he knew her routines. He was able to fit in, in her surroundings.”
“He’s one of the charming ones,” I say.
“The men women think are too good to be true.”
“And they are.”
“What about Marco, is he too good to be true?” Sam’s ready to take on my cynicism.
“Josh? At the moment he’s pretty good, but we’re in our ‘good behavior’ period.”
“They’re always so accommodating when they’ve only just got into your pants.”
I laugh.
“So, back to our guy,” Sam says. “No disabilities. He stalks his victims, and we’ve covered the relationship he has with his victims. Next is remorse, an emotion our guy doesn’t feel.”
A lot of serial killers don’t feel remorse and that’s a major indicator of a psychopath. But the way the bodies were found also shows us his lack of remorse. Generally, a killer who feels guilty about his crime will cover the body with something and close the eyes so the victim’s not staring at him. Psychologically, open eyes correspond with judgment to a guilty mind, so he closes her eyes. Our guy left all three girls in open areas with nothing covering their bodies. Their nakedness was on display and their eyes open. He wasn’t worried about them judging him because he felt no remorse, no guilt over their deaths.
“Agreed,” I say.
“Home life.”
“I think he’s got a roomie,” I say. “He’s shy, but not a complete loner. Not anymore at least. And he probably functions normally in social settings. His behavior also indicates he’s a thrill killer. Having a roommate on the scene would heighten the thrill for him because it’s more dangerous.”
“But he’s keeping these girls somewhere personal, like his home. Surely he couldn’t get away with that if he had a roommate.” Sam plays devil’s advocate. “Any feelings on this one?”
“You mean hunches or psychic feelings?”
“Anything will do.”
I shrug. “Maybe our guy rents out a basement? It’s got a bit more privacy.”
“Sounds risky.”
“All part of the challenge. He comes to D.C. Rapes and murders under our noses and under a roommate’s nose.”
Sam nods. “It would certainly raise the stakes.”
“Or if he takes them somewhere else, it might be somewhere that feels homey to him. Like an abandoned building in a suburb where he grew up.”
She moves on to the next area. “Van. Obviously he’s got a van or a similar-type vehicle if he’s transporting these girls from parking lots or their apartments to his place or some other location.”
“Yep, that’s a sure bet.”
“Intelligence and education level are largely based on the fact that he’s an organized offender and leaves no clues on the bodies for us.”
“They’re a given.” I read off the profil
e. “And the outward appearance we covered in personality. The guy’s blending in, so he looks pretty good.”
Sam sits down. “What do you think about his criminal history?”
“I think he’s been murdering for a while. Although it’s possible he’s just been rehearsing it. Playing it over in his mind. Maybe even seeing crime scenes in his day job, and now replicating the cleanest ones.”
“Yeah, I bet we could commit a pretty good crime,” Sam says, giving a half-laugh.
“We could throw the cops and profilers off, no worries.”
“The perfect crime.”
“But we’re forgetting DNA, and DNA doesn’t lie,” I add.
“We ain’t got any DNA on this guy yet.”
“He knows his stuff, all right.”
Sam stands up and looks at the last few items on the profile. “MO and signature we know. And the media stuff…pretty standard.” She pauses. “So, have you got anything you’d like to add to the profile? The missing something?”
I lean back in my chair. “I can’t put my finger on it.”
“Me neither,” Sam says.
“I’m sure that tattoo I saw on Jean’s leg is important. Important to us and important to the killer.”
“But we don’t know how.”
“No. Besides, we couldn’t put it in the profile. It’s based on my visions.”
We’re silent for about five minutes.
“Crap,” I say.
Sam stands up and walks to the window. Her eyes follow something on the road. “Patrol car.”
“I’m glad they’re keeping an eye on you.”
“Sensible, I guess.” She shivers. “I think we have to leave the profile as is. We don’t have time to go any further.”
“No, not with Rivers breathing down our necks.”
“Your neck, honey. Your neck.”
“Gee, thanks for reminding me.”
I’m frustrated we haven’t gotten any further, but I don’t think there’s anything more to get…not yet. “We can add to it on the sly later. Tuldoon can take the credit.”
“He won’t mind that a bit.”
