“The victim is essentially a means to some yet unknown end,” Craig said.
“Exactly.”
“Taking all this into account, can you give us a breakdown of the person we’re looking for?” Meg asked.
“I can. We’re looking at a white male between twenty-five and thirty-five years of age. He’s physically strong, which is why he chooses such demanding sites to abandon his victims. You’ll find that he came from a stable home, with a father who was steadily and responsibly employed. He’s likely the firstborn. He’s of average to above-average intelligence and both socially and sexually competent. He likely holds down a skilled job, one requiring a substantial education, but given the nature of his crimes, he is either salaried and on his own time or a telecommuter with flexible hours, has some other type of employment flexibility that allows him to be out of the office for extended periods, or is self-employed. He’s one hundred percent in control from the moment he selects his victims to the moment he abandons them. And he’s going to be involved in the urbex community somehow. The average Joe on the street doesn’t pick the locations in which you’ve found victims, because they don’t know they exist. And even if they did, they wouldn’t have the knowledge to move through the locations with his competence.”
“That’s a pretty good outline of our killer.”
“It will be more helpful once you have a group of suspects to compare it to. Right now, it doesn’t point to anyone in particular. Oh, one more thing. He’s going to be the type who will follow along on media reporting of his crime. Knowing that could be useful for you at some point. After all, you do have Mr. McCord at your disposal.”
“We’ve used him for that before, and he and his editor are always willing as long as they get the exclusive on the story once the case is closed. It’s an option, if we need it.”
“Excellent.”
“This is extremely helpful,” Kate said. “Really gives a better picture of the man we’re up against. But I assume he’s not done?”
“Impossible to say, really. There’s a reason he’s going after these specific victims. When that reason is fulfilled, he’ll disappear.”
“Because the kills aren’t the actual point. You don’t foresee any devolution of the suspect or escalation in the kills?”
“I don’t believe there will be. This is another reason you need to stop him soon. Not only to save the life of his next victim, if there is one, but because I suspect he’ll vanish once the job is finished. This type of personality tends to compartmentalize these activities, and he’ll simply move on and not look back when he’s done. That will make the job of bringing him to justice that much harder, because there likely won’t be another crime downstream to bring him to law enforcement’s attention.”
“Considering the effort required to plan these kills, do you think there’s some time before his next one, or will he be ready to move on right away?”
“That entirely depends on how much prep work he’s done in advance. If he has a location list of his victims ahead of time, the urbex sites may already be scouted. Keeping that in mind, as dangerous as those sites are, they would only be more treacherous once the snow flies, so I anticipate he’ll want to have his kills completed by winter, or he may pause his activities at that point. Nothing like leaving a clearly traceable set of footprints in the snow to yell ‘Here I am!’ He’s much too organized to make that mistake. Assuming he has more victims in mind, I suspect he’ll move on to the next one within the next week or two.” He closed the file folder. “As always, the profile will be amended as more information becomes available. And my door is always open if you want to run anything by me.”
The group broke up as Kate rose to shake Rutherford’s hand.
Brian leaned close to Meg. “The way this guy works it’s like his victims are nothing more than notches on a bedpost. If only he’d get his DNA analyzed. Or someone in his family would. Then we might get lucky, like they did with the Golden State Killer.”
“We’ve never been that lucky,” she said. “We always seem to pick the hard way to end a case, and I have a feeling this one won’t be any different.”
CHAPTER 19
Rooftopping: A high-risk, unsecured climb to the top of a building or other structure in order to get a panoramic view.
Friday, November 9, 7:47 AM
Jennings residence
Arlington, Virginia
“Kate Moore.”
Meg’s reticence dissipated slightly with the alertness in the FBI agent’s voice. “Hi, Kate, it’s Meg Jennings. Sorry to call so early.”
“No worries, I’ve been up for hours and am getting ready to head into the office. What’s up?”
“I have a suggestion I want to run by you.”
“Shoot.”
“I know you went to Hampden Manor to interview the staff, but did they let you talk to any of the residents?”
“I discussed the possibility with them, but they weren’t overly encouraging. A lot of the residents are not well. Strangers tend to scare them and they get confused. We agreed it likely wouldn’t lead to any positive results and could actually harm some of the residents.”
“I think it would be great to talk to some of them, though. Some of them are likely more lucid than others and may be able to help us.”
“I agree.” Exasperation crept into Kate’s tone. “But we just went over why I couldn’t.”
“I think I can.”
“How would you be different?”
“Because I have a therapy dog.”
Kate was silent for a moment. “You think that would make a difference?”
“I do. My sister, Cara, has a certified therapy dog she takes to hospitals, retirement homes, and nursing homes. Patients who most of the time exist in a stupor often come alive when they’re with a dog. Something about animal contact speaks to them at a deeper level. With your permission, I’d like to try.”
“Are there any risks involved?”
“To the residents? None. You’ve seen Hawk a few times now. He’s very calm and is as gentle as a lamb with the elderly and infirm. I’d also like to bring Cara and her therapy dog, Saki.”
“I’ve heard about this sister. She’s the one who likes to get involved in your cases.”
Meg winced. “Actually, she’s come into the cases because I’ve asked her to. Because she has a skill I can’t find anywhere else. And this is a perfect example. If we find anyone who saw the suspect, I’ll do the questioning. Cara will just be there to help narrow the field and to give us a variety of dogs, because sometimes you find someone who had that kind of dog earlier in life and they latch on to it.”
A long sigh came down the line. “Okay, you’ve sold me. But I have some reservations about bringing your sister into this.”
“She’ll be one hundred percent my responsibility. And she’ll likely have a better hand at this than me because she does this kind of therapy all the time.”
“All right. Would it help if I called and officially cleared it with the staff? Told them you’re coming and why you think you can make the residents comfortable with your visit so they’ll talk to you?”
“It would, thanks. Tell them we can be there around ten a.m.”
“Will do. Let me know as soon as you’re out of there if you get any leads.”
“I will. Thanks, Kate. It’s frustrating to sit here waiting for someone to disappear. I really want to do something proactive.”
“Let me assure you, I understand. I’ll call them now. If there’s a problem, I’ll let you know, but assume you have a green light.”
“Thanks.” Meg hung up and turned to Cara, who had been sitting beside her for the entire conversation. “You’re in. She’s a bit nervous about it, but I convinced her.”
“Good thing she doesn’t know it was my idea.” Cara gave her an overly wide grin, complete with batting eyelashes.
“It’s a good one, and you’re absolutely right that it could well be worth the effort. A
nd I am frustrated at sitting here waiting for the next shoe to drop.” She stood and called the dogs. “Hawk, Saki, you’re up. Let’s see if you can make a breakthrough for us.”
Friday, November 9, 10:11 AM
Hampden Manor
Baltimore, Maryland
“I think we picked the perfect time to come,” Meg said.
“Mornings are always best,” Cara replied. “Especially for dementia patients. They’ve had breakfast, their energy level is high after a night’s rest, and if you can get them some sunlight, you can almost see them come to life. If they’re going to be perky, this is when it happens. And this room is perfect. Cheerful, bright. A ton of natural light.”
Flanked by their dogs, the women stood in the doorway of a large, comfortable sitting room, brilliantly lit by banks of wide windows that looked out onto overflowing gardens, now showing the sparseness of fall. In the distance, the trees bordering the well-manicured lawn glowed in flaming tones of yellow, red, and orange.
Meg glanced down at the leashed dogs. Hawk wore a simple red collar, and stubby little Saki wore her bright blue therapy group vest with several badges, including the Canine Good Citizen patch denoting her training. “You’re the expert. Where do we start?”
“Pick someone to talk to,” Cara said. “We’ve already caught a few eyes. Start with someone who looks interested. Then you’ll find it snowballs from there, and people will come near to pet and talk to the dog. You may have trouble getting anyone’s attention because you’re not the star of the show today.”
“You know what questions we’re asking?”
“I do. If I find anyone who seems promising, I’ll let you know right away. Come on, Saki, my love. Let’s go make some new friends.” Cara led Saki toward a couch occupied by two older ladies.
“Hawk, let’s see what we can do.” Meg headed in the opposite direction from her sister and approached a wizened old man, sitting by himself opposite a large, cold fireplace. “Hi, I’m Meg. Would you like to meet Hawk? Hawk, sit.” Hawk obediently sat at the man’s knee, looking up at him. When he continued to stare blankly into the cold fireplace, Hawk touched his nose to the gnarled hand that rested on his knee.
The man blinked and looked down at the black Lab sitting beside his chair. A smile curved his parted lips, revealing several missing teeth.
“Would you like to pet him?” Meg asked, running her hand over Hawk’s head and down his back to demonstrate.
The hand that rose trembled but settled with infinite care on Hawk’s head, and the man’s eyes closed in bliss. When he opened them, they were bright with unshed tears.
Meg looked over at Cara, who gave her an encouraging smile and a thumbs-up.
The first twenty minutes told Meg it was doubtful they were going to get anywhere and that she had greatly overestimated the ability of many of Hampden’s residents to observe the world around them, retain it, and then be able to actually report on it. Hawk was a hit, but most of the residents were only barely verbal with a child’s vocabulary, or they spoke gibberish. But their appreciation of Hawk was crystal clear.
A worthwhile trip, though not in the way I’d hoped.
“Meg.”
Cara’s call brought her head up from watching Hawk with one of the social workers and a nonverbal resident, who was slowly coming alive in his presence. Looking over at her sister, who sat with a woman on a love seat, she caught Cara’s hand motions. Dogs stay, you and I switch.
Meg nodded at her sister, then bent low to Hawk as she dropped the leash on the floor at his feet. “Stay,” she commanded. She met her sister halfway across the room. “Got something?”
“The woman sitting with Saki. She’s the sharpest one in the room. Knows the residents and the nurses. She may have noticed a stranger.”
“If she can recall seeing one and can tell us about them, that will be a gold mine, because I’ve come up empty so far. Thanks.”
The sisters continued on, and Meg looked back in time to see Cara kneel down on the floor beside Hawk, pick up his leash, and start talking to the elderly gentleman.
“Hello.” Meg took Saki’s leash as she sat down carefully on the love seat beside the frail woman. She looked to be in her late eighties and leaned heavily on one elbow on the couch but repeatedly stroked the back of Saki’s neck as the dog sat quietly beneath the woman’s touch. “My name is Meg. Is Saki being a good girl?”
“A very good girl.” The woman’s voice held a tremor, but her words were clear.
“I’m so glad, Mrs. . . .”
“Lovett. Mrs. Lovett.”
“I’m so glad, Mrs. Lovett. Saki loves meeting new people. Do you get many visitors here?”
“A few. Not me, though. I’m on my own.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. I’m especially glad then that we could bring Saki to visit with you.” She let a few seconds tick by as the woman continued to pet Saki. “You seem to be very aware of what’s going on around here.”
“More than most people. They’re angry and only look inward. Or are just plain daft.”
Meg struggled to keep the surprise off her face.
Mrs. Lovett pursed her lips. “Did I shock you? At my age I don’t have time to waste. I just speak my mind.”
“That’s . . . refreshing. Don’t stop on my account.”
Mrs. Lovett gave a cackle of laughter and patted Meg’s hand. “I like you, honey.”
“I like you, too, Mrs. Lovett. Could I ask you a question?”
“Of course, dear. As long as I get to sit here with this pretty dog, you can ask questions for as long as you like.”
Meg made a mental note to thank her sister again for this idea. “Did you know one of Hampden’s residents, Mrs. Devar, left with someone a few days ago?”
Mrs. Lovett’s smile faded. “Yes. That was when they put the security guards on the outside doors. They look very stern.”
“They won’t hurt you. They’re here for your protection. But before the security guards came, do you remember any workmen in the residence?”
“There are often workmen here.”
“Anyone specific you noticed? Someone who was working in Mrs. Devar’s room?”
“You mean the workman who took her for a walk?”
For a moment, Meg simply blinked at her. “You saw her with him?”
“He was helping her. She wasn’t always steady on her feet.”
“Was she going with him willingly?” Meg asked.
“It looked like it. She was childlike.” She frowned. “That’s luckier than some. Some people here are violent. But at least they don’t really know what’s going on. I hope I won’t when it’s my turn.”
Meg knew a reply was required but wasn’t quite sure what to say and didn’t want to do anything to jeopardize the fragile relationship she was building with Mrs. Lovett. So she went with gently repeating the statement. “Your turn?”
“It happens to all of us here. Everyone is here because of the dementia.” When Meg couldn’t find the words to answer, she continued. “I know why I’m here. I’m here earlier than some because I was on my own, with no children, no family, and could pay for my own care. And they’ve recently put me on some new drug that keeps me clear. But it won’t last. Soon I’ll be childlike like Mrs. Devar. Or worse. But I probably won’t know it.”
“I’m so sorry.”
Mrs. Lovett smiled down at Saki. “Sweet girl. Such a blessing.” The eyes she turned to Meg glistened with moisture. “I’ve been luckier than most. Had over fifty years with my Robert, but now he’s gone.” The hand that bore a dull gold wedding ring folded into a fist. “I don’t want to lose him.” She tapped her temple with her knuckles. “He’s still here. I don’t want him to go.”
When Meg didn’t know what to say, she simply took the woman’s hand, squeezing back at the surprising strength. “Mrs. Lovett, could I ask a really big favor?”
“What’s that?”
“You said you saw the workman. Would you be able to
tell me what he looked like?”
“Why would you want to know?”
Meg pulled out the FBI flip case she’d thought to bring in case anyone questioned why they were there. She held her finger to her lips and then flipped the case open so only Mrs. Lovett could see it. “I’m here on a case. I’m here to help Mrs. Devar.”
“You’re an FBI agent?”
“I work for the FBI.” Meg kept her explanation simple since she didn’t want to confuse the older woman with an explanation of field agents versus canine handlers.
Mrs. Lovett studied the badge for a moment and then nodded. “What can I do?”
“We’ve seen security footage of the man with Mrs. Devar, but no one saw his face. Did you?”
“Of course. I was sitting in the big comfy chair in the main lobby. He walked right past me on his way to her room.”
“Could you describe him to me?”
Mrs. Lovett looked thoughtful for a moment. “He was about my Robert’s height, maybe six foot two. He was white, quite fair, actually. The kind that needs to wear sunscreen or they burn lobster red. Fair hair, with some red in it. Freckles across the bridge of his nose. Light eyes, not sure if they were blue or green. A birthmark on his neck, just above the collar of his shirt. Looked like a crescent moon.”
Her answer sent Meg scrambling for her phone. “That’s amazing. Would you mind repeating it so I could record it? I don’t want to miss any details.” She cued up her voice recorder app and then held her phone high so Mrs. Lovett could speak directly into it, grinning at her the whole time.
“Did I do all right?” the older woman asked after she had repeated the description.
“Did you ever! Mrs. Lovett, I could hug you.” When the older woman blushed with pleasure, Meg did just that. “You could do one more thing, if you think you’d be up to it. Do you think you could work with one of our sketch artists to come up with a likeness of the man you saw?”
Confusion creased Mrs. Lovett’s face. “You mean, you want me to draw him?”
“No, no, that’s the artist’s job. He or she will ask you questions—what are the shape of his eyes, was his nose this broad or that narrow, that kind of thing—and then they’ll draw the face you saw. It’s amazing to watch, actually.”
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