This little speech was more to convince George and Andi than for Geena, who had arrived here as the only agent the FBI sent, without a profiler of her own, thus knowing firsthand how understaffed her agency was, and George glanced at his partner. Andi wasn’t too happy, evidenced in the way his jaw muscles were twitching and the general tension radiating off him, but he was as much a realist as George, and Luke was right. Time was of the essence.
“Then please enlighten us. Or do you need some time to read the files we have so far?” George lifted one of his brows.
“I have to admit I already know what’s in the files.” Gelman sounded almost apologetic. “It’s a huge case.”
“We’re listening.”
“Why do you think this is his only burial ground?” If Geena was picking up on the undercurrent of not yet hostility but definitely growing animosity, she hid it well.
Luke gestured toward the whiteboard. “As you know, the profiling of serial killers isveryeducated guesswork more than anything else. There’s always room for surprises.” He made a step forward. “That being said, this killer is highly organized, as is evident in his choice of victims. He seems not to be escalating as far as we can tell from what we have—twenty-four bodies in ten years, evenly distributed in four squares in the ground. And even if he’s escalating, he’s doing it slowly. Otherwise we’d have a lot more bodies.”
“Which could be in different graves,” George interjected.
“Always a possibility, but unlikely. He’s methodical, using chalk to make sure he doesn’t accidentally dig at the wrong place. Why would he do that, if he had more places to dump the bodies? No, I’m sure he wants them all in one place, where he can control them. I’d say he’s strong-willed enough to keep his killing urges in check, which would fit with the type of victim he chooses. This means the kill itself is not as important to him. Something else is, something he finds in these vics.”
“PTSD, depression, bipolarity.” Andi listed the medical findings for the victims.
“Except for Izzy Whitewall.” Geena pointed to her name. “It sounded as if she was treated for something puberty related.”
“Yes.” George nodded. “But ‘overactive imagination’ isn’t that far from hallucinations or manic episodes, which are common for PTSD and bipolarity. He could have gotten confused.”
“You think he’s not somehow medically trained?” Geena looked at Luke, asking for his opinion.
“Could be George is right, could be he’s wrong and the killer is trained and thought he knew better than his colleagues. Though chances are he’s somebody who knows a good deal about mental illnesses but has never studied to work in the field.”
“This is bad. If you’re right, we have unearthed his shrine, where part of his fantasy takes place. How fast is he going to escalate now?” The worry in Geena’s voice made George antsy.
“Depends on various factors. He could just leave, start over somewhere new.”
“You think he’s that controlled?” George stared at Luke.
“No.” Andi’s voice had that faraway quality that meant he was connecting dots, forming a picture from the hard evidence combined with what only he knew. It was also something nobody besides George should hear, because the information came as a mixed-up jumble of bits and pieces. With a sinking heart, George realized there was nothing he could do to stop this, not when Andi was already opening his mouth. “He needs the bunker, important, the soil, mixing the bones, not on purpose, his trophies, tied to the place, can’t leave, needs it, not going anywhere, waiting for the next meal, always so hungry, need, hunger, so deep in the earth.”
Luke and Geena stared at Andi with open mouths. George’s brain was overheating in his attempt at finding a plausible explanation,anyexplanation at this point that would get them out of this situation unscathed. He didn’t know if it was the panic or his fear for Andi’s safety, but his synapses seemed blocked. There was nothing.
11. Waves on the Beach
“WOW! YOU’REalready deep in the case, aren’t you? I’ve heard about this method but have never seen it done. This is quite interesting.” Geena patted Andi’s shoulder, just once. He winced at the unsolicited contact. Sandra and Tobias just shared a look that spoke volumes. They were used to Andi being, well, Andi. Still, George would have preferred to have fewer witnesses to how strange his partner could act.
“It’s what he does. Best not to disturb his flow.” George had no clue how Geena could see anything Andi had said as coherent, methodical police work. He had no problem grabbing what she was offering and running with it, though.
“I surely won’t.” Luke made a step back. “What he said is also plausible. The killer is taking souvenirs, perhaps in the bunker before he buries them, and it’s all linked to this place. He’s not going anywhere.”
“Then what’s he going to do?” Geena was still staring at Andi with awe.
“That’s the big question. Laying low for the moment, which gives us time to find him. Hopefully before he strikes again.” Luke cocked his head. “I will think about this, try to give you a more detailed analysis. Things are bound to get clearer the more Dr. Melcourt can find out about the victims.”
“I’m going to see who owns the bunker. Perhaps our killer is easier to find than we thought.” Hope mixed with fear they probably wouldn’t be that lucky vibrated in Geena’s tone.
“Good idea. I’m going through the files of the victims we have identified. Perhaps something will pop up. Sandra, Tobias, could you dig a little deeper into the history of House Cusabo? And Dr. Blackton? But first—” George put his hand on Andi’s lower back to guide him toward the exit. “—Andi and I are going to the bakery. After the charming morning we just had, I guess we all can use some sugar. Geena, is there anything you can’t or won’t eat? And how do you take your coffee? Sandra, Tobias, what do you want?”
“If it’s sweet, I’m in. Unless there’s cherries involved. As for my coffee, as black as the night. The one you brought me this morning was perfect.” Geena smiled at him.
“We’ll take donuts with chocolate glazing. Two lattes, heavy on the milk. Thank you very much.” Sandra saluted lazily before she and Tobias went back to their desks. They were close enough that George saw no need to haul them over. Sometimes a little space between detectives during an investigation was a good thing.
“Noted. No cherries, coffee of doom. Two abominations of coffee accompanied by the policeman’s fuel. We’re back in fifteen.” George followed Andi out of the precinct, where he took the first full breath in what felt like an eternity.
“That was close.”
