by Philip Cox
The killer liked this particular bar: it was never too crowded, whilst being busy enough for him not to get noticed. He had seen this woman here before: on his second visit, and this one. He had read somewhere - he didn’t know how true it was – that singles tend to frequent the same bar, one they feel most comfortable with. Of course, it all depends on their reason for going to a singles bar. They tended to be women; single men would head for a gay bar, and a gay bar would not offer what the killer was looking for. Of course, the sexual orientation of the victim was neither here nor there: strange, perhaps he had overlooked that aspect when he drew up his checklist. Maybe if he was unsuccessful, he would head to a gay bar, although how many single women would he find there? If he did find any, he would probably not find them attractive. Or was he not being politically correct? Politically correct or not, he didn’t give a shit: this is where he liked to watch and wait. To hunt. Like a predator in the animal kingdom, patiently and silently waiting for the right prey and the right moment to strike.
He saw one quite early on that night. Right age, right race, on her own for some time. He began to sit up, the hairs on the back of his neck began to tingle. Then another woman arrived, a friend. They two women embraced and went to a table to chat. The killer relaxed again.
Then she arrived. Again, she fitted the profile. She looked pathetic, in the literal sense of the word. She sat at the bar with what looked like a diet coke, got out her cell phone. Seemed to ring three numbers. Left voicemail messages. Poor little girl: nobody wanted to talk to her. For the rest of the evening until about ten, he watched her nurse her soda, occasionally speak with somebody, but alone.
Ideal.
When she got up to leave, he did also. He followed her out; she stopped at a Metro Bus stop; he was parked the other side of the street, at the end of the block. He sat in his car, in the darkness, and watched. When the bus arrived, he followed at a safe distance behind. When she got off, he parked and followed her on foot.
He followed her for the half block walk to her home: a small apartment building with an underground parking garage. Both the entrance to the garage and to the building lobby were protected by a PIN-code reader. Difficult to access there, but at least he knew where she lived.
For the next few weeks, he made a point of following her. To her work, to the shops. And that was it: work, shopping, home. To the killer’s surprise, she had a car: he wondered why she was using the bus that night. He had two theories: she wanted to avoid being pulled over DUI, although how she could be DUI on diet soda; or she was hoping to spend the night at somebody else’s place.
Eventually, his moment came. She had parked on the third floor of a garage near where she worked. She had been working late one night, and returned in the dark to where she had left her car.
He was waiting there too.
The actual abduction was done swiftly, efficiently and professionally. Took no more than fifteen seconds, including the sedation. Then it was back to ‘HQ’ where the fun started. There he could show his artistic side, the delicate precision of small-scale art. Of course, she knew nothing about his artwork: the knife saw to that. Then he cleaned her up, and began work. Finally, once another masterpiece and its little brother were done, he began to enjoy his victim. Yes, he knew she was dead, but she was still warm. And he could take care of any dryness. He had read somewhere that necrophilia is not illegal in Massachusetts - perhaps he ought to relocate to Boston - and the law is murky on that subject in Kansas and Louisiana.
Once he was done, then it was time to leave her somewhere. The vehicle had been prepared for some days. He certainly wanted rid of her before decay set in.
Another successful operation, he reflected. He looked down at the hooker who was kneeling in front of him; rested the back of his head against the soft furnishings smiling in pleasure and with satisfaction.
Job done. And there was another in the pipeline.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Johnson said, ‘Unfortunately for you guys, and for the Bureau, there’s no generic template for a serial killer.’
‘Ah,’ said Perez quietly, leaning back in his chair.
‘No,’ she continued. ‘There’s no single cause, or factor, that has been identified that leads to the development of a serial killer. Many factors contribute, the most significant being the killer’s personal decision to kill. As I’m sure you know already, the predisposition to violent crime, including serial killing, is biological, psychological and social in nature - no specific characteristic. However, research has shown that there are no specific combinations of characteristics which differentiate serial killers from other violent offenders.’
Leroy frowned and glanced at Quinn: he wasn’t getting this point, but let Agent Johnson continue.
‘As I said, there is no generic template for a serial killer: there’s no, look guys, this is what one looks like. They’re driven by their own reasons and motives, which are unique to them as individuals. They’re not limited to any specific demographic group, such as their sex, race, age or religion. Those who are sexually motivated tend to eroticise violence during their development; for them sexual gratification and violence are intertwined.’
‘So,’ said Leroy, ‘we’ve still no idea who our perp is, and what kind of sick motherfucker he is, is that what you’re saying?’
Johnson took a deep breath and held up the palm of her hand. ‘However,’ she said, ‘certain traits have been identified as being common to most - not all - serial killers.’
Perez asked, ‘Those being?’
‘Sensation seeking, lack of remorse, an impulsive nature, the need to control, predatory behaviour. They could be slick and convincing, be charming - although the charm is superficial – and narcissistic. They are pathological liars, and skilled manipulators. As I have just said, they show no guilt or remorse, no empathy, and don’t accept responsibility for their actions. Lifestyle behaviours would include stimulation seeking, impulsivity and irresponsibility. And they are anti-social: characteristics here would be delinquency, criminal versatility.’
‘Psychos,’ said Quinn. Leroy and Perez nodded in agreement.
Johnson shook her head. ‘No, not necessarily. You must know that not all violent offenders are psychopaths; conversely, not all psychopaths are violent offenders. Now, gentlemen: as law enforcement officials, we all understand psychopathy to a degree, some more than others; you’ll know from interrogating suspects that psychopaths are immune to ideas such as remorse or guilt over their crimes. They do, however, possess certain character traits which can be exploited in an interview situation, such as their narcissism, their selfishness, and their vanity. The Bureau has had many successful interviews which have been successful as they focussed on praising the suspect’s intelligence, how clever they are, and their skill in hitherto evading capture.’
She paused and looked around the room. ‘Sorry, guys; I should have asked earlier. Any questions?’
Perez, Leroy and Quinn looked at each other, moved about in their seats and shook their heads. It was Leroy who spoke first.
‘So, what you’re saying is: you’ve dispelled some of the myths about these men, or women - one in six - and what personality traits we should look for when we’re talking to suspects, yes?’
Johnson nodded. ‘But you need to be aware that these characteristics are not exclusive. For example, just because somebody is narcissistic and conceited and controlling, that doesn’t make them a serial killer.’
‘I get that. So, what you’ve given us would help us if we had a list of potential suspects; but how do we go about finding any suspects, if these guys are as goddamned clever as you say?’
‘In finding a serial killer, we take the same steps as we would in an ordinary homicide case. In fact, remember that a serial killer case begins as an ordinary homicide case. Because most homicides are committed by somebody known to the victim, you focus on the closest relationships, yes?’
They nodded.
�
�That is a successful strategy for most investigations. However, the majority of serial murderers don’t know, and aren’t in a consensual relationship with their victims. Mostly, a serial murder involves strangers. Strangers with no visible relationship between the killer and the victim. This means that this type of investigation is much less precise that an ordinary murder, if I can call it that. As there is no obvious connection, we would attempt to focus on the motive.’
‘Sounds logical,’ Perez agreed.
‘But serial murders can have bizarre features which can cloud the identification of a motive. A serial killer’s behaviour might change, might evolve as the murders progress. The killer might interact differently with one victim than with another. And if there is more than one offender - and I believe you have been discussing the possibility of an accomplice to Harlan Cordell - it can be very difficult to identify a single motivation.
‘The killer might have multiple motives. The motive might evolve within a single murder as well as the whole series. And,’- she paused a beat - ‘even if a motive is identified, it might not help to identify the killer. I am aware of at least three investigations where resources have been taken up seeking a motive instead of the offender.
‘So - just to wind up here: a serial murderer’s probable motivations. Anger – the killer will display hostility or even rage towards a certain group or even to society in general.
‘Criminal enterprise – the offender benefits in status or in financial terms, and I’m talking about drug or gang related murders. That’s not the same as financial gain – robbery homicides, “black widow” killings.
‘Ideology.’
‘Would terrorism come under that umbrella?’ Perez asked.
‘Yes, or an individual who targets a specific racial, gender or ethnic group. Then we have a murderer who kills for the thrill of it. They feel empowered or excited at the kill.
‘An offender might be suffering from a mental illness and is killing because of the illness. They might be experiencing hallucinations and delusions.
‘Finally, sexually based murders. They are driven by the sexual needs of the offender. There may not be overt sexual contact reflected in the crime scene.’
Perez said to Leroy, ‘Remember, in Cordell’s case, there was no sign of any sexual violence.’
‘Yeah, just the lube.’
‘Which could have been used by a previous partner we never found out about.’
‘Finally,’ said Johnson, ‘we come to the victims. A serial murderer will select his or her victims based on their availability, vulnerability and desirability. Availability would be determined by their lifestyle, their circumstances, which give the offender access to them. Vulnerability – well, that’s what it says on the box; namely, how susceptible the victim is to attack. And desirability is the appeal of the victim to the killer. That would comprise race, gender, ethnicity, age, background, or any other specific the offender chooses.’ She tidied up her notes and returned them to the document wallet.
‘Any questions, guys?’ Perez asked.
Leroy shook his head and looked at Quinn, who did likewise. ‘What’s the plan, then?’ he asked Johnson.
‘As I said, I’m here only until tomorrow evening. My flight from LAX is at eight fifteen. So, unless you have any objections, I’ll tag along with you guys.’
‘Detective Leroy has no objections, do you, Sam?’ Perez asked.
Leroy said nothing. He, Quinn and Johnson got up to leave the room. Immediately, Perez’s phone rang. He picked up and began talking while the others chatted on the way out.
‘Honestly, Detective; I’m just here to help,’ Johnson explained, ‘and I fly back to Virginia tomorrow. The Bureau doesn’t want murders like this; we just don’t have the manpower. I’m hoping your killer doesn’t go interstate. I’ll just shadow you two: ask my opinion or advice if you want; I’ll give it anyway. But if you chose to disregard what I say, that’s down to you. It’s your investigation. Quite frankly, I don’t give a shit. Are we okay on that?’
Slightly off-guard, Leroy opened his mouth to respond, when Perez called out.
‘Guys, can you come back?’
They turned and walked back, Quinn giving Leroy a quizzical look. Now Perez was standing behind his desk, a sheet of letter sized paper. He looked stressed.
‘Talk about timing,’ he said. ‘There’s been another.’
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
They took the 405 down to LAX.
‘It’s a pick-up this time,’ Leroy explained. ‘She was under a tarpaulin.’
‘Where?’ Quinn was on this occasion.
‘Third floor of one of the parking garages. Terminal Three.’
‘That could be good news,’ said Johnson from the back. ‘For us at any rate.’
‘How so?’ asked Leroy.
‘Airport security. The place is covered with cameras. We’ve a much better chance of picking up his image there than anywhere else in LA.’
‘Lucky break,’ said Quinn.
‘Not so lucky for her, though,’ replied Leroy grimly.
By the time they arrived, the airport police had closed off that section of the parking garage. Quinn parked, and they walked over to the white pickup.
‘This is it?’ asked Leroy. ‘You gotta be kidding.’
It was a vintage vehicle, a Chevrolet.
‘What do you think?’ Leroy asked, walking around the vehicle. ‘Nineteen fifties?’
‘Obviously stolen,’ said Johnson, standing in front of the truck while Leroy and Quinn walked round. ‘If it’s vintage, then it’s going to be missed, and missed pretty quickly, and it also stands out.’
‘Stands out saying, “Here I am”, you mean?’ asked Quinn. She nodded.
‘We‘ve run the plates already,’ explained one of the airport officers. ‘It was stolen Saturday night, Sunday morning.’
‘She under here?’ Leroy asked one of the other officers. He lifted the tarpaulin. The body was almost identical to the one the other night. Same age, same hair colouring, same position, same tape and wire, same stab wounds.
Same carvings.
‘You wanna see?’ he asked Johnson, who was now standing behind him with Quinn.
She lifted herself up on her toes and looked. There was no expression on her face as she checked the body. ‘And this is the same as before?’
‘Apart from the fact that before he’s used the trunk of a sedan; yes, it’s the same as before. And before before.’
‘Excuse me?’
‘The same as the one we had Friday night, and Cordell’s victims.’
Johnson paused, looked over at the pick-up and said, ‘Caucasian. She looked about thirty.’
‘Friday’s did, also. And the others were between twenty-five and thirty-nine.’
‘At that age, they’re more likely to be alone, to be solitary. If they were younger, say in their early twenties, they’d be more likely to have a social circle, college friends, family close by. More likely to be living with Mom and Dad.’
‘More likely to be missed?’
‘Yes.’
‘He seems to be attracted to woman who won’t be missed until later.’
‘It’s all about control. He wants to control when they appear in the media. Before they appear on TV in a missing persons appeal.’ Johnson looked over at the truck again. ‘Was there sexual assault last time?’
‘Not had the ME report yet, but Cordell’s did. But never any sign of force. I told you about the lubricant.’
‘So he raped them gently,’ Johnson said and walked back to Leroy’s car. Leroy and Quinn glanced over at each other: Leroy raised his eyebrows and Quinn frowned. They joined her in the car.
‘We speculated on how he got them away from the abduction scene without the alarm being raised,’ Leroy said. Now he was in the driver’s seat.
‘Cordell’s victims,’ she asked. ‘Did they have any connection with each other?’
‘None that we could ever establi
sh. They came from different parts of town.’
Johnson said, ‘So you ruled out the possibility of him knowing them?’
Leroy said, ‘We went to his house as the result of a neighbour tipping us off. Then I shot him.’
‘I know, but was their any commonality between them?’
‘None.’
‘So if we assume that lady over there and Friday’s victim didn’t know their killer, how were they abducted without anybody noticing?’ asked Quinn. ‘At gunpoint?’
‘Probably not,’ Johnson replied. ‘Even with a gun, there’s always a risk, and he couldn’t be certain of controlling the situation. If he was stronger than his victims - and she doesn’t look very powerful - he could have sedated them.’
‘With what?’ asked Quinn. ‘Chloroform?’
‘Here’s Russell,’ Leroy said, as Hobson and an assistant arrived. ‘Give me a minute.’ He walked over to the truck and spoke to Hobson. After five minutes he joined the others again. ‘He was just about to start on Friday’s when the call came through. He said he’ll do the two exams together. In view of the urgency, he said he’ll let me have the reports by the morning, if not tonight.’ He looked back at Johnson. ‘You were talking about Chloroform. Where would he get that from?’
‘Detective Quinn raised the question of Chloroform; but yes, he could have used that, I guess.’
‘Ray.’
‘Say what?’
‘Mine name’s Ray,’ Quinn repeated.
She nodded. ‘Ray. I’m Genine. With a G.’
‘g-a-n-i-n-e?’
‘No. g-e-n-i-n-e. Think genuine without the u.’
‘Sam,’ said Leroy. ‘Where would he get Chloroform from? He couldn’t just walk into Walgreens and get a bottle.’
‘It’s easier than you’d think,’ said Johnson. ‘He might work in, or have access to, a laboratory, or a hospital. Chloroform’s also used in the manufacture of pesticides. And it’s possible to manufacture it at home.’
‘Chloroform?’
‘You’d need to know what you were doing. Chloroform’s an irritant – the eyes, the skin, the respiratory system. It can damage the nervous system, lungs, liver and kidneys, and can cause cancer. You ever heard of “sudden sniffer’s death”?’ Neither had. ‘It’s where there’s a fatal arrhythmia - that’s where the heart beats irregularly, or too fast, or too slow – that some people suffer on exposure to chloroform. Its purchase is illegal without a permit, so the likelihood is it was stolen. But there are many other sedatives: Trazodone, Ativan, Phenergen, to name a few. This guy’s obviously very resourceful, so getting a hold of illegal chemicals would be child’s play.’
