Emerson laid them on the table in two rows. Stanton first, then Peters. While Lynn studied the pictures, Emerson unearthed her laptop and logged in.
“There were no phones or laptops collected from either victim’s home, correct?” Lynn asked.
“That’s right. The second victim owned a cell phone, but the techs couldn’t find it.”
“Cause of death?”
“Strangulation for Stanton. The ME’s report showed ketamine in her blood. I don’t have the autopsy results for Peters yet.”
“Ketamine is an easy way for the killer to gain power over their victim. They become paralyzed and helpless to fight back.” Lynn studied one of the pictures. “You said Gloria Stanton wasnotsexually assaulted. Was April Peters?”
“Forensics came back with a negative on that.”
“A small win in a dark situation,” said Lynn. “So, with only two deaths, we don’t classify this as the work of a serial killer.”
“I contacted you because of the perp’s bizarre MO and I want to get a jump on creating his profile. I’m concerned he’s going to kill again.”
“Got it. Based on what you told me, this does have all the markings of a spree serial killer.”
“Right,” said Emerson. “A thrill seeker.”
“Let’s start building our profile. I like to start with generalities, then we can create a profile based on what we’ve got to work with. The more evidence you collect, the more you can fill in the missing pieces.”
“Sounds good.”
“Because most serial killers are men, I tend to use the word ‘they’ or ‘he’.”
“Understood,” Emerson replied.
“Psychopaths lack remorse and empathy, which is why they kill so easily. They love killing and they don’t fear repercussions—a very dangerous combination that spurs them to do it again and again. The killing satisfies a temporary need. Over time—and that timeline varies—the need overtakes him and he does it again. There’s a glibness about them. They believe they won’t get caught and, for some, it becomes a cat-and-mouse game with law enforcement. Most of them are charming. They can also lead a double life. Some have a loving spouse and happy children. Their families act as unknowing shields keeping their secrets well buried. No one would suspect that their friendly neighbor or helpful coworker is an evil monster.”
When Lynn finished discussing general characteristics of serial killers, she asked about details surrounding Emerson’s cases. “I know we spoke on the phone, but let’s start from scratch. Assume I know nothing.”
“Both victims are white females, late twenties to mid-thirties. Brunettes with long hair who lived alone. Both were wearing white wedding gowns, no veils, no shoes and no jewelry.”
“Underwear?”
“Bras and panties for both vics.”
As Emerson continued listing their commonalities, Lynn jotted notes on a white board. Once Emerson had finished, Lynn reviewed the crime scene pictures one more time.
“I’ve been doing this a long time,” Lynn said. “I’ve been wrong, but fortunately, less than I’ve been right. I think your killer is a white male between thirty and thirty-five years old. He’s either asking his victims to dress in a wedding gown—or he’s forcing them into one—to relive an experience. Since he didn’t sexually assault either woman, I’m presuming he’s reliving something that didn’t happen. Maybe his fiancée left him at the altar. Maybe the killer got married, but he and his bride couldn’t consummate their marriage. Maybe she broke the engagement and he hates her for it. Rather than process it like a mentally healthy person, he’s begun reenacting the ceremony with his preferred ending.”
A shiver skirted through her. “Horrifying.”
“Very.” Lynn nodded.
“His victims let him in, so we presume they know him.”
“Looks that way,” Emerson replied. “No forced entry.”
“On the phone, you mentioned having a person of interest,” Lynn said.
“A bartender where Peters worked. He was nervous when I questioned him, so that doesn’t fit the profile of someone being glib.”
“You can’t rule him out, either.”
“I’m not. He called out sick the first night Peters went missing. The second night—the night her body was found—he was at work.”
