by Anne Patrick
"She look that bad?"
"You haven't seen her?"
Austin shook his head. "Not since Wednesday. She said she needed to be left alone."
"She also needs someone to be available if she needs to talk."
He suddenly felt guilty for not having called her. "She knows I'm here if she needs me."
"It's not an easy job, Sheriff."
"I know. I've seen her with the victims and at the dumpsites."
"I was referring to your job of being there for her. What she goes through with the victims is nothing compared to what she's going through right now. These past few days, she's relived every horrifying moment of the past four weeks through the eyes of a killer. Unless you've murdered someone yourself, you've no idea what that feels like, or what it does to you."
That was the last thing Austin wanted to hear. If it wasn't hard enough to stay away from her before, it was going to take an act of God to keep him away from her now. "This is usually your job, isn't it?" he asked, suspecting that was the reason he was here.
"Yeah. I had to make certain you were up to the task. As I'm sure you've learned these past couple of weeks with her, Jo can be very stubborn."
"For the last three years I've raised a teenager on my own, I can handle stubborn." For the first time, Agent Washington laughed, and Austin finally felt more at ease with the man. "Jo's mentioned you on several occasions. She respects you a great deal."
"I don't want to see her get hurt, Sheriff."
Austin suspected Washington now spoke on a more personal level and wondered what Jo had said of their relationship. "I'm not going to hurt Jo. I care very much about what happens to her. She knows that."
"Yes she does, and I can see she's in good hands, so I'll be on my way. If you need anything, or if she needs anything, don't hesitate to call." He handed him a card. "My private number is on the back. Jo has it, but I doubt she'd use it, so I'm relying on you."
"That's it? You flew all the way out here, just to spend a couple of hours checking on the welfare of your agent?"
"Jo isn't just an agent in my charge. She's a very dear friend. When I hear that a cherished friend of mine is becoming involved with a man she barely knows, I make it my business to find out all I can about that man."
"You found out all you needed to know about me in the few hours you were here?"
"I'm with the FBI, Sheriff. I knew everything about you, your background, your service record, and your family's history before the plane even landed. I wasn't convinced, though, until I talked to Jo."
Austin couldn't hold back the grin forming on his lips and felt like a foolish sixteen-year-old on the eve of his first date. "What did she say about me?"
"She didn't have to say anything. As miserable as she is right now, I've never seen her more content."
"She didn't say anything?"
"Goodbye, Sheriff, it's been a pleasure."
Austin stared in disbelief as the man turned and simply walked out the door, never even glancing back. 'She loves me,' he concluded; his grin widening.
"What happened to you, you look like the cat that just swallowed the canary?"
Only then did he realize Walt had entered the office. "Ah, it's a beautiful day, Walt. It's days like today that make this job bearable."
"If you say so." Walt brushed past him. "I've got the phones if you want to go ahead and take the afternoon off."
"I think I'll take you up on that," he said as an idea began to form. "What time does Al go in to work?"
"They open at ten-thirty, but Al doesn't go in till six."
It was no secret, Al made the best pizzas around, and he'd yet to train anyone that could outdo him. "Anyone needs to get a hold of me, I'll have my cell phone."
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Determined to finish the profile, Jo called the desk as soon as she returned to the motel and asked not to be disturbed. She would have finished it on Friday, but was sidetracked when Federal Express delivered the list of passengers she'd requested. She'd hoped to make a separate list of all the male passengers and then feed them through the FBI database for priors, but had only managed to get halfway through the list.
After reliving most of the murders through her visions, she knew now what both the victim and the killer had felt and how they'd reacted to one another's feelings and actions. The sights, sounds and emotions had drained her both physically and emotionally, but it had been worth it, the profile was coming together nicely and in a few more hours she'd be finished.
Three and a half hours later, and seventy-two hours into the profile, Jo could count on one hand the hours of sleep she'd had. Closing her eyes, she rotated her head to loosen the tense muscles of her neck. On the edge of exhaustion, she considering a short nap when a knock at the door startled her.
Wide-eyed and fully awake now, Jo stared at the closed door, debating whether or not to answer it.
"Jo, it's Austin."
She smiled and shoved the laptop to one side. Opening the door to the aroma of pepperoni and mushrooms, she lowered her gaze to the pizza box Austin held in his hand. "Please tell me this isn't a mirage."
With a grin, he brushed past her into the room. "I'm sorry if I'm disturbing your work, but you have to eat and I couldn't stand to let another day go by without seeing you."
"I'm glad you're here," she admitted as she closed the door. "I've wanted to call you."
He held her gaze for several seconds before finally asking, "Why didn't you?"
She shrugged her shoulders, smiling.
He stepped forward, and she thought he was going to kiss her. Instead, he lifted his fingers to the cut above her eye. "Are you okay?"
Disappointed, she merely nodded and took the pizza from his hand. "Let's eat. Then we'll talk."
"I've got paper plates and sodas out in the car. I'll be right back."
In his absence she opened the lid of the box and was pleased her guess had been right, Pepperoni and mushroom, her favorite. Not bothering to wait for the plates, she helped herself to a slice and set the box on the spare bed. She had just sat down and taken a bite when Austin reappeared with a brown paper sack. She shot him a grin and hurried to swallow.
"I had a hunch you hadn't eaten today."
"That's not true. I had a big breakfast at Bertha's this morning after my run."
Austin glanced briefly at the mass of files and paperwork on her bed before stepping to the table. After taking out two sodas, he popped the tab on one and handed it to her. "Have you been at this all day?"
"Pretty much."
Austin placed a couple of slices of pizza on a plate and passed it to Jo before serving himself. He then sat down across from her. "Are you finished?"
"Almost."
"Can I hear what you have so far?" he asked, adding a persuasive grin.
"Sure." She set the plate aside, stood and slowly paced to the bay window and back again; then paused at the end of the bed where he sat. "He's a white male, thirty-five to forty-five years old, over five-eight, slim to muscular build, with medium to dark hair. I also suspect he is handsome and very charming."
"Except for the hair and height, you just described me." She shot him an annoyed expression, which drew an apology. "Sorry."
She began to pace the length of the room, as the profile took shape in her mind. "He meets his victims in flight or waiting in the airport, and then invites them for a drink in the lounge. A few drinks later, the women begin to trust him. After all, he's handsome, charming, and attentive. He knows women, knows them well. He presents himself as the perfect man. At some point when they get up to use the rest room or to make a phone call, he slips the Dalmane into their drink. A short time later, confusing the effects of the drug with their indulgence in alcohol they feel a little ashamed and embarrassed, so when prince charming offers them a lift to their motel or his place, to freshen up, they accept.
"Twenty to thirty minutes later they're pretty much out of it. They're dizzy, disoriented, physically
numb, and may at some point even lose consciousness. He takes them by taxi to his place, somewhere in Portland, gets them comfortable in the bedroom or living room and injects them with the Pavulon. After this point, they are powerless to do anything.
"He strangles them from the front so he can watch their facial expressions, see them struggle. He likes to toy with the victims before he kills them, taking them to the brink of death before allowing them to revive momentarily. This fulfills a fantasy in him. He gets very aroused at seeing them powerless. As they grow weaker, he removes their clothes and jewelry and places them into a tub of water, where he'll eventually end their misery and then cleanse the body and trim their nails. At this point, he's feeling his most powerful. He sees himself as almost God-like for having saved them. This is when he finds them the most attractive. They're pure, innocent and submissive."
Austin stared at his half-empty plate, his appetite seemingly lost. He set the plate beside him on the bed and glanced up at her. "What's he trying to save them from?"
"From their ambition; he sees it as crippling to them. Their estrangement from their families and past divorces is all the proof he needs. He thinks they are unhappy, which in all but one of the cases, he was wrong."
"Do you still think he decapitates them so we can't identify them quickly?"
"Partly. They're representative kills. The victims aren't important to him as individuals but as symbols of a greater goal. He's fixated on a particular woman who will be his ultimate kill. That's why he transports them to Claremont and stages their body for discovery."
"So the woman he's fixated on lives in the area?"
"Yes."
"Can you give me anything on his background, what he may do for a living for instance?"
"At some point in his life, he's had medical training because of his precision and knowledge of drugs. He's also very intelligent. In his professional life he's secure and dominant, but when it comes to his personal life, he's insecure and sees himself as a failure. His mother pampered him early on in life. He was the sole purpose of her existence. He had her complete attention. Then some point in his preteen years his mother sought employment, more out of her own desire than the need of extra income. No longer there when he arrives home from school and preoccupied with her work when she is home, he feels himself abandoned. These feelings turned into a subconscious hatred for strong, independent women."
Jo returned to her bed, picked up her plate and took a bite of pizza.
"All that stuff about his mother, how'd you come up with that?"
"Past experiences of other serial killers I've interviewed that have similar feelings of resentment toward their mothers. As I've said before, no two are identical. But there are similar characteristics derived from their childhood that have become common denominators in almost all. The majority come from broken homes, show abuse toward animals, child arson, even bed-wetting."
"Why now? I mean he doesn't fit the usual age group of a serial killer."
"The tendency to kill is in all of us on some unconscious level, whether it is out of survival or just pure evil. We all have our limits and there isn't any one of us who isn't capable of murder if pushed to that point, which is what we call a stressor: an event that has taken place in his life in the last six to eight months which drove him to start killing."
Jo took another bite and chased it down with a swig from her soda.
"How can you eat after all that?"
She glanced up at his shocked expression. "Because I'm hungry." Then said with a smile, "Believe it or not, I've run across guys a lot more twisted than this one. This guy is mild compared to many."
"Seeing as I have five headless women on my hands, I don't find much consolation in that."
"No, I don't imagine you do."
Jo watched as Austin rose from the bed to fetch another soda. Instead of his usual khaki uniform, he wore blue jeans and a white tee shirt, the short sleeves straining against his biceps.
"Do you have any idea of the significance of the string yet?" he asked.
"My guess is it represents a bond he feels he has with these women. He himself having been a victim of his mother's ambition, he's compelled to save these women and their families from the pain of abandonment. Subconsciously he's always had a deep-seated hatred of his mother. Before the killing started, the strong and dominant side of his personality was in control, but then something happened that triggered this subconscious hatred, forming the dangerous combination of evil and brilliance."
"The physical description you gave, is it pretty accurate…I mean, did you actually see him?"
"If it were that easy, I'd have my own talk show."
He chuckled.
"The description I gave you is based on what I learned from the victims. Since all of them are about the same age, I figure he probably is too, and in order to maneuver their bodies in and out of the bathtub, he'd have to be similar in height to them or taller. Our tallest victim was five-eight. The hair color and build is based on the type of man I think they may have been attracted to, based on ex-husbands I looked up through DMV."
"You're amazing, Jo. The physical description you gave fits perfect to the one the waitress gave at the airport, and you had no way of knowing that because you never asked."
"Keep in mind, Austin, that aside from what I witnessed in my visions, the profile is made up of my perceptions drawn from his actions and the way he carried out the murders. Profiling isn't an exact science."
"I understand that, but most of what you said makes sense. Are you ready to go public with it?"
"I'll finish it up tonight or in the morning and then you can call a news conference and give it to the media."
"Do you think we should continue to withhold the fact about the string?"
"I would. Up until now it's been a relatively quiet story, a brief mention here and there, but once we go public with the profile, you're going to have reporters camped on your door step, and every crackpot on the West Coast wanting to claim responsibility."
"Well, that gives me something to look forward to. Do you want the honors, or shall I?"
Jo hesitated, giving his request careful consideration. She walked to the mini refrigerator, took out a bottled water and took a drink. If she were to give the profile personally there was always the risk of the killer wanting to communicate with her.
"I just thought, since it's your profile and all, you might want to be the one to talk at the press conference. But if you're not comfortable with the idea, I can do it."
"No, I don't mind. I'll do it." If they were lucky, the killer would make contact, giving them a better chance of catching him.
"I sure hope going public with your profile helps."
"You know you could let me be more actively involved, Austin. I was an investigator before I was a profiler," she reminded him, figuring now might be a good time to tell him about the airline passenger list she'd requested without his knowledge.
"Thanks for the offer, but my men are already on the offensive where you're concerned. I mean it's one thing to stand on the sidelines, but requesting the help of your friends…well it just didn't go over well with them."
His words sparked immediate anger. "Is that what I've been doing, standing on the sidelines?"
"That isn't what I meant." He scrambled to his feet and quickly closed the distance between them. As he took her hand, his eyes leveled on her. "I really respect you, Jo, and I think what you do is incredible, but—"
"You know what, forget it. If all you care about is what your men…what this town thinks of you, then you—"
Before she could even think of resisting, his lips came down hard on her own, and his hand went to the small of her back, pulling her into his embrace. Her anger quickly forgotten, she eagerly gave into him.
Jo ended the kiss, her arms still draped across his shoulders. "I don't think this is such a good idea," she said, wishing she hadn't ended the kiss.
"You're right, it isn't." He
made no attempt to move, though.
"You should probably go." Yet she wanted him to stay.
"Or, we could just watch a movie or something on TV."
"I'm liable to fall asleep," she warned.
"Would you rather I go then?"
"No." When she stepped from his arms, she'd never felt lonelier in her life. "Any preference as to what we watch?"
"Nothing sappy."
Jo laughed, recalling the night she'd spent watching videos at his home. "I'll let you choose." She handed him the remote control and then picked up the pizza box, taking it with her to her own bed.
After choosing a channel, Austin settled back on the spare bed, and for the next two hours, Jo slept while Austin watched an old western.
*****
The sound of the phone ringing woke Jo from a peaceful sleep.
"Jo, it's Slim. I'm trying to locate the sheriff. He's not answering his cell phone, and Bailey said he was with you earlier. Do you have any idea where he might be?"
She looked over at the empty spare bed and was about to tell him 'no' when she heard the bathroom door open. "Yeah, hold on a minute." She passed him the phone before heading to the bathroom.
When she returned moments later, he was just hanging up. "Anything wrong?"
"We have a possible ID on Jane Doe number three. Melissa Stewart, thirty-eight. She ran a catering business from her home in Kansas City, Missouri. She was reported missing when she failed to return from her twentieth high school reunion in Portland. Divorced three years ago, no children." He removed his cell phone from his pocket and, after glancing at it, he frowned. "Battery's dead. Sorry. Hope this doesn't tarnish your reputation."
"Don't worry about it. My reputation was ruined a long time ago. It's yours you should be worried about. I am crazy you know."
Austin stood, smiling, and took her into his arms. As his lips fell on hers she wrapped her arms around him, lost in the comfort and security of his strong arms.
Ending the embrace, Austin took Jo's hand and walked slowly to the door. "Thanks for letting me hang out with you."
