by Jaden Skye
Tracy took a long breath. She understood what Salty was saying and also knew that Hunter did not.
Clay quickly jumped in, getting the conversation back on track. “Who do you think killed her, Salty, and why?” he repeated.
“Damned if I know.” Salty jumped up off his chair and went over to a table in the corner. Then he flipped open a photo album that was on it and brought it over to them. “I sit here looking over these photos day after day, thinking about it. These are the people she was close to and also some she just ran into. Tina liked taking pictures. Take a look for yourself. Tell me what you think.”
Tracy, Hunter, and Clay converged on the album like a flock of birds hunting for a crumb. Tracy flipped the pages, as they all stared at each photo. Most of them were pictures of street types, prostitutes and probably a few pimps. There was also a string of respectable-looking, well-dressed guys. Probably Tina’s customers, Tracy figured.
“Do these guys know you have their photos?” Tracy asked, amazed.
“No, they don’t.” Salty chuckled. “Tina wanted them, though, and I said okay.”
Hunter looked over at Salty for a second. “You know a guy named Jeffrey Glaze?” he asked abruptly. “Did he come down here looking for Tina? Is he somewhere in the book?”
“The guys who come down here don’t give their real names,” Salty shot back at him, “and we don’t ask for them. Look for Glaze in the album. You’ll see for yourself if she took a picture of him.”
Tracy flipped back to the beginning and they looked at the pictures once again. There was no photo of any guy who resembled Jeffrey Glaze and Tracy didn’t think there would be. Of course, that didn’t mean he didn’t come down here. As Tracy looked through the photos she was struck by an odd-looking woman in her early fifties who appeared in the background of many pictures. The woman was tall with a square frame and stiff red hair. She definitely looked out of place.
“Who’s this?” Tracy asked.
Salty laughed. “That’s Lollipop. She’s a regular down here on Sundays. Doesn’t say much to anyone, just walks around. There’s plenty others like her, too. They enjoy the life, want to be part of it. Most of them are usually wannabes or has-beens.”
“Why is she in Tina’s album?” Tracy felt unsettled by her.
Salty shrugged it away. “No reason. She must have been around when Tina was taking pictures. Doesn’t mean a thing.”
“She looks peculiar,” Tracy mentioned, noticing her flowered dress and pink pearl bracelet.
Salty laughed harder. “No one’s peculiar down here. Anyone can come and look any way they feel like. They can walk up and down all day long if they want to.”
“Could she be looking for customers?” Tracy wondered.
Salty laughed harder. “Who would pick up someone like that? I doubt it.”
Tracy felt disconcerted, but she didn’t want to get sidetracked by the scenery. And there was plenty of scenery down here.
“Give us one lead, Salty,” Hunter said directly then.
Salty became silent a moment. “Someone in this album knows something,” he finally mumbled. “I’m sure of it. That’s all I can say for now.”
Chapter 11
By the time they left and got into the car, it was late afternoon and the rain was falling harder. The windshield wipers tossing back and forth created a forbidding rhythm. They rode for a while lost in their thoughts, not saying anything to one another.. Suddenly, Tracy’s phone rang, startling everybody.
She picked up immediately. “Hello?”
It was Wess. I’m jumping a shuttle plane to Boston after work,” he started. “Can you pick me up at the airport?”
Tracy was startled. “Of course I can’t, Wess, how can I?”
A strained silence fell on the other end. “You can’t give me an hour? I’m just coming for a quick dinner and then I’ll fly back,” Wess continued.. “I need to see you. We need to talk.”
“About what?” Tracy felt disconcerted.
“About us,” Wess replied. “I can’t sleep, this is making me nervous. I’m worried about you and about us.”
“Please don’t worry, Wess.” Tracy’s voice grew softer. “I’m safe, I’m well cared for. This is all part of the job.”
“I can’t do my work, Tracy,” he continued. “Let me come for a few hours.”
“Not in the middle of this.” Tracy felt her voice rising. “I can’t.”
A strained silence fell on the other end. “You can’t give me an hour? I’m just coming for a quick dinner and then I’ll fly back,” Wess continued. “I need to see you. We need to talk.”
“About what” Tracy felt disconcerted.
“About us,” Wess continued. “I can’t sleep, this is making me nervous. I’m worried about you and me.”
“Please don’t worry, Wess,” Tracy’s voice grew softer. “I’m safe, I’m well cared for. This is all part of the job.”
“I can’t do my work, Tracy,” he continued. “Let me come for a few hours.”
“Not in the middle of this,” Tracy felt her voice rising. “I can’t.”
“You’re having dinner with someone tonight, though, aren’t you?” Wess wasn’t stopping.
“Wess, I’m on the case,” Tracy repeated and saw both Hunter and Clay looking at her intently. “I’ll call you later when I get a minute.”
“Who are you having dinner with, Tracy?” he plunged on.
This wasn’t the man Tracy knew. Wess had never been jealous or insecure. He’d never doubted or questioned her.
“I need to know who you’re having dinner with tonight,” he demanded.
“It’s not like that, believe me,” Tracy broke in.
“It’s hard to believe you, though,” Wess mumbled. “You’re not yourself, not the woman I know.”
“I’m on a high-profile case, Wess,” Tracy repeated, as he mumbled something and hung up the phone.
Tracy took a quick breath and shoved her phone back into her bag.
“Who was that?” Hunter asked pointedly,, concerned.
“My boyfriend,” Tracy tried to make light of it. “He can’t stand being away from me.” Clay laughed.
Hunter didn’t laugh though. “He’s not thinking of coming here now in the middle of the case?” he asked, irritated.
Of course that would be an unwelcome intrusion and Tracy realized it. “He can think whatever he wants,” she replied. “I told him not to.”
Hunter looked at Tracy more clearly than he’d done since she arrived. “When you do work like this,” he said softly, “it’s important who you let into your life.”
Tracy felt a sharp pain go through her heart. “I realize that only too well,” she replied. She didn’t like hearing Wess criticized, but also knew that Hunter was right.
“Let’s not make a federal case out of nothing,” Clay interrupted. “I can definitely see why Tracy would have guys falling all over themselves for her.”
Tracy smiled at Clay’s unexpected comment. It felt strange. “Thanks,” she said lightly. Tracy knew she was attractive, but never thought of herself as someone who guys fell over themselves for. It wasn’t something she aspired to.
“That’s not the point,” Hunter continued. “Of course Tracy’s a beautiful woman. Coupled with her brains, she’s the total package. Any guy would be lucky to have her. I only made that point for her sake. She needs all the support she can get. She doesn’t need calls from a boyfriend who upsets her when she’s working this hard.”
Tracy was both touched and unnerved by Hunter’s reaction. “Thank you,” she said looking back at him directly. “I appreciate your understanding my needs.”
“Well, they’re obvious, aren’t they?” Hunter replied, quickly looking away.
*
As soon as they got back to the offices, Hunter had a meeting to get to and Clay insisted on walking Tracy back to her hotel. They could grab a quick bite on the way, if she wanted. She agreed, wanting to eat quickly, as sh
e had a lot to do that night. Tracy planned to spend the evening going over today’s impressions and preparing an initial profile to present to the FBI first thing in the morning. Other agents would be coming to hear it, including special agent August Lane. Sergeant John Harding from the Boston police department would also be there.
Tracy was actually delighted to be walking back to the hotel with Clay. It had been a long day and she was interested in finding out what he’d thought about it. It would round out her picture before she started the profile.
They grabbed some quick hot dogs and two large Cokes at a local stop on the way and ate as they walked.
“What do you think, Clay?” Tracy asked, taking a big bite of the hot dog, which had too much ketchup on it.
“I think it’s possible you’ll have to create a profile for two different guys,” Clay responded. “I still don’t see any connections between the killings, except that both women had ash-blonde hair.”
Clay took a bite of his hot dog as well. Tracy listened to him munching and suddenly felt sad. She thought about Wess’s invitation for dinner and wished he could see her now, working and eating on the run. She wished he could understand. Her leaving so suddenly and canceling the engagement dinner must have been a shock. It brought out a whole new side to Wess, an uncertainty that Tracy hadn’t known was there.
“We don’t have any clear motives yet, either,” Clay continued. “Neither victim was raped, nothing was stolen. What the hell did this perv get out of it? A joy ride? A quick high? A sadistic thrill? You let us know. That’s your department.”
“For starters, he got the thrill of taunting the police and terrifying the public,” Tracy commented, “that much is certain. This is no wilting lily.”
“That’s a funny expression, but you can say that again,” Clay agreed. “A wilting lily, he’s not.”
“Some of them commit a crime, get frightened and hide. Others crave public attention,” said Tracy.
“That’s why we let everyone know that you’re on the case,” Clay reminded her. “Let’s bring whatever we find out into the open! The killer will get off on it, won’t he?”
“I hope so,” said Tracy. “I can’t wait to hear if the announcement brought in any special tips or strange responses.”
“We’ll have that information for you at the morning meeting,” said Clay.
“I’m betting the announcement unnerves him and make him careless,” Tracy mused.
“Or, it could turn his attention on you instead.” Clay backed away, watching her response. “Could make him come after you next.”
Tracy grimaced. “Good, let him try, I’ll welcome it.” Tracy’s eyes narrowed. She was ready for whatever came next.
“You welcome it, really?” Clay stared at Tracy.
“Yes, in fact, I can’t wait,” Tracy stared right back at Clay. “I’m not afraid of facing the killer. In fact I want to look him straight in the face.”
Clay took a deep breath, ruffled. “That’s why you’re here on the case with us,” he said. “You’re brave, you’re smart, you’re fearless. You’ll give us a better picture of him tomorrow. Show us how to find him. You can do it, Tracy, I have faith in you.”
Chapter 12
As soon as she got to her hotel Tracy went to her room to go over the day’s impressions. She’d have to present preliminary impressions of the killer first thing in the morning and wanted to gather her thoughts. At this early stage, before all the evidence was in, Tracy had to rely on the crime scene, reports of those interviewed, and the killer’s MO and signature behavior. She also had to rely on her gut.
There were certain questions that had to be answered though before she started. What kind of mass murderer were they up against? Tracy plopped down in a comfortable chair, grabbed a long yellow pad and pen, and began to take notes. There were two types of mass murderers. The first chose specific people he or she had something against. The second killed someone who was part of a group they hated. The second type knew nothing about the particular victim. The person was just an object to them, a representation of something they loathed.
Did the killer they were now hunting have something against the particular women, or was it what they represented to him? There were no defensive wounds found on either victim. The fact that they never fought back implied that the women felt safe with him, might have even liked him. This killer had to have known both victims, even had a personal connection with them. Most likely, he’d charmed them, put them at ease with his false demeanor. That was normal behavior for a psychopath, who lured his victims in with smiles, to soften them up before the kill.
It was important for Tracy to know what kind of killer she was up against so she could predict his next action. Was he a spree killer, a serial murderer, or something else entirely? Spree killers were on the move, went from victim to victim in rapid succession. Usually they were motivated by hatred that simmered until a sudden event brought it all to a boil. Spree killing was rare, though, and these killers typically committed suicide or were killed by the police.
Their killer didn’t feel suicidal to Tracy. She also did not feel he was out of control. It seemed as though he were thoroughly enjoying himself each step of the way. The way he left Shannon was too well thought out, placing her in an idyllic spot on a beautiful day. But of course, who knew how the killing took place? He could have been in a wild rage at that moment. But given the condition of Shannon’s body, Tracy didn’t think so.
The condition of Tina’s body said something different, of course. But even that was odd. Despite the horrible mutilation, no sexual activity had taken place. Again, Tina’s killing and mutilation seemed more like a message he was sending than an impulsive act of rage.
Serial killers were different from spree killers in that there was usually a cooling-off period between murders, a time to reflect, reap the fruits of their efforts and then move along. Also, most serial killings involved sexual activity. There was no sexual activity here, however, with either woman. This put their killer in a different category. Tracy found the contradictions both perplexing and fascinating.
They would have to dig deeper to find him. What kind of motivation was fueling their guy? Tracy thought about the motivations of those who killed. What were they after? Some killers were compelled to kill by visions or dark voices in their head. They were taken over by them. Others felt it to be their life mission to kill certain kinds of people. Their behavior was noble in their eyes. They thought they were helping the world become a better place
Hedonistic killers killed for the pure thrill and joy of it. The majority of serial killers were hedonistic. Many were also sadistic. Sadistic murderers gained satisfaction from exercising power and control over their victims, seeing them suffer. Sexual activity was almost always involved with sadistic killers. As there was no sexual activity in these killings, this category did not fit their case, either. Their killer was a mixed breed, an anomaly. He would be harder to track, but worth finding. Tracy loved the moment when she stood eye to eye with the culprit. She loved watching him exposed, his cover being torn apart. It strengthened her to know that she was saving other lives. It was a need that had lived inside her since her mother had been snatched away.
But right now, Tracy was far from that moment. There were a lot of steps she had to take. And tomorrow morning, she had to offer some definite ideas about their killer’s motivation. That question was always uppermost in everyone’s mind. Most profilers answered by talking about how serial killers had been abused and neglected in childhood. To this day they longed for mothering and acceptance they never got and developed a rich fantasy life to make up for it, In their fantasies the killers received all the recognition and nourishment they craved. Their grandiose fantasies also soothed the feelings of inadequacy and worthlessness that plagued them every day. The act of killing gave them a sense of power and control they would never have any other way.
Of course these psychological theories had truth to them, but th
ey only scratched the surface. Tracy was convinced there was a deeper reason why people killed, much deeper. Many people never had decent mothering or acceptance and yet they did not stalk others and tear them limb from limb. Some devoted their lives to helping. Others lived on the fringes of society and became artists or healers. These theories didn’t answer the question of what truly caused a killer to break with the bonds of humanity and wreak havoc on the world. They didn’t begin to touch the true cause of darkness. For Tracy, profiling murderers was a direct road into the heart of darkness, to understanding and vanquishing it.
Tracy thought of the places her victims had been found. They couldn’t be more different. One place was dark, forlorn, and filthy, with a hidden crucifix buried under the earth. The other was filled with sun, sky, family, and light. The places represented different aspects of the killer himself, thought Tracy. She felt that he was someone who lived on the fringes of a world where he longed to be accepted, but was not. And never would be.
Of course this was only a preliminary presentation coming up. Tracy would have more ideas in the morning. She decided to go to bed early, sleep on it, and see what else came to mind. Something always did. She was known for that.
After a quick shower Tracy fell into bed. But rather than sleep soundly, she tossed restlessly all night long, with one dream after another. Tracy woke from each dream quickly and then fell back to sleep. But just before morning, Tracy was gripped by a nightmare she could not shake off. In the dream she was walking alone on a country field that was overrun by wildflowers. Suddenly she saw a shadow behind her and began walking faster to get away. The faster she walked, the closer it came. The shadow wobbled at first and then grew stronger. As Tracy broke into a run it began spinning around her, holding her in its grip.
Tracy cried out for help but no one could hear her. She raised her arms to the sky and so did the shadow. “Run, run, run all you like,” it shouted to her. “Trample the flowers under your feet. You’ll never get away from me, never!”
