Tainted Mind (27 page)

“The mayor will back you. He already stopped by this morning to make sure you know that. He wants this cleared up. Nothing like this has ever happened here, and he doesn't like that it happened on his watch.”

“That and he's my uncle,” Ian said.

Sharon grinned. “He is that.”

Ian let out a little laugh and, as Vivienne hung up her cell, he motioned her up the stairs, asking if there was any news from Daniel.

“No. They're running some more sophisticated tests on the wood and dirt—” Vivienne was saying.

“Soil.” Marcus, Carly, and Nick all interjected as they hit the landing.

Vivienne let out a put-upon breath and cast Ian a look. “Soil,” she corrected. “But nothing yet. Daniel is more interested in the bodies, so he's spending some time researching and brainstorming some other tests he might be able to run.”

“To look for what?” Ian asked as he approached the board, looking for anything new that might have been posted in the last twenty-four hours while he was in the hospital.

“A variety of things. Other objects that might have been used on the body, elements that might have been absorbed into the bones or body tissue. Things like that.”

He opened his mouth then closed it. “I don't want to know. Not unless they find something.”

“Good choice, if you ask me,” Vivienne said.

“So, how are you, boss?” Carly asked. His two officers were looking at him with genuine concern.

“I'm okay. A little sore. But thanks for pulling me out. I'm glad you all were behind me. If you or those kids hadn't been there to see it happen, it could have been a while before anyone found me.”

To his right, Vivienne was going through one of the boxes he'd brought back from Boston. Her back was to him, but he saw her straighten at his comment and he gave himself a mental kick in the ass. She didn't need to hear that.

“Yeah, we're glad we were there too. It's weird though. Those tires were only put on about six months ago, but I guess sometimes those things happen,” Marcus commented before going back to his papers.

“I'm just glad it wasn't any worse,” Carly added.

“You and me both.” Ian replied, turning in time to catch Vivienne and Nick sharing a look. He watched them for a heartbeat before they realized his attention. Vivienne went back to her box.

“Whatever happened with the call you were on your way to?” Vivienne asked as she pulled out a file and opened it on the table.

“Wyatt went.” Marcus answered. “It was a report of multiple gunfire. It's not too unusual around here, though this time of year, it's less common than in hunting season. People shoot on their own property for practice all the time, but because it was a report of multiple shots fired in rapid sequence, we wanted to check it out.”

“Did he find anything?” Nick asked.

“No, couldn't even find the caller, but if I weren't local and heard gunshots, I'd probably hightail it, too,” Carly answered.

“Anyone mind if I open a window?” Vivienne asked suddenly. Nobody did, so she crossed the room to do just that. Ian didn't miss the piece of paper she slid in front of Nick. Without being obvious, Ian watched as the agent folded the sheet, put it in his pocket, and stood.

“I'm off to see the felons. If anyone needs me, you all know how to reach me,” Nick said. And he was gone. When Ian's eyes sought Vivienne's, she looked away.

“Felons?” Carly asked.

“Naomi and Brian,” Ian supplied. “Not actual felons, I feel obligated to point out.”

“But they could kind of pass as some,” Marcus interjected with a grin. “I ran into one, Naomi, at Frank's. Said she'd spent the night with you, Vivi, and was on her way back to The Tavern. I think Frank might actually be in love. Not real love, mind you, since he's like twenty years older,” he added as an aside.

Now this was news to Ian. Not that Frank might be in love, but that Naomi had spent the night with Vivienne. He certainly didn't mind and was actually glad she'd had someone with her. But the fact that she hadn't mentioned it made him wonder if maybe Naomi's visit was more than just a girls’ night in. Again he turned to Vivienne.

Avoiding his look, she cleared her throat. “Carly do you have any updates?” she asked.

Both Carly and Marcus stood. “Yeah, and I don't think you're going to like it,” Carly answered.

Ian's gaze lingered on Vivienne a moment longer before he turned back to his officers. “But I'm not going to be surprised, am I?” he said. He could hear the inevitability in Carly's voice.

“I wish, but no,” Marcus responded.

“All right,” Ian said, stepping to the front of the room. “Lay it on us.”

“Turn the board over, boss,” Marcus said. “It's all there.”

C
HAPTER
18

“YOU GOTTA BE FUCKING KIDDING ME.”
Ian crossed his arms and stared at the board. The newly updated board of death. They'd started with eighteen women, three confirmed dead and the other fifteen missing. The last time Ian had looked at the board, Carly had eliminated five of the victims, bringing the number down to thirteen women who fit the profile.

This board had twenty-one women on it. Girls, some of them. And went back over fifteen years.

“There were a few earlier than this woman, or, uh, girl,” Carly corrected herself, pointing to the first picture on the board. Amanda Corlis, seventeen, found raped, strangled, and murdered in a summer resort town in southern Maine. She was probably getting ready to go to college. “But they only had one or two similarities so I didn't include them,” she added.

“Shit.” Ian ran his good hand over his face. “So, how many of these women are missing and how many confirmed dead?” Ian couldn't believe he was hearing those words out of his mouth. This wasn't Afghanistan, asking for “confirmed dead,” while standing here in his small, quiet town was more than surreal.

“Ten in total are confirmed dead. The remaining eleven are missing, presumed dead,” Marcus answered. His voice sounded about how Ian felt.

“And do we have the files?” Vivienne asked.

Carly nodded. “I was able to track down everyone I needed yesterday, and we have all but one, but that one should be here today.”

They all stared at the board for a long, silent moment. Ian thought about turning to Vivienne and asking that she call in the Bureau. But as he studied the board, a pattern emerged in his mind. A plan.

“We need timelines,” Ian said.

His officers looked at him with a combination of curiosity and eagerness in their expressions. Vivienne's face said something more along the lines of “you know what we need to do, now tell us.” That she didn't bother to hide that little bit of “I told you so” brought a faint smile to his lips.

“A couple of timelines. Of the women we know are dead, we need to know when they went missing and the estimated times of death,” Ian continued.

“To get an idea of how long he holds them,” Marcus interjected, speaking more to himself than anyone else.

“But we also need to know more about where they were last seen. If they were seen at a bar on Friday night and reported missing on Saturday, we'll have a more reliable sense of when the clock started ticking for them,” Ian kept talking.

“But if they went missing from somewhere where it's harder to lock down a time, like if they went camping by themselves or something like that, then we need to take that into consideration,” Carly added, catching on.

Ian nodded. “We also need to know where they went missing from and where the bodies were found. If there is any pattern there, it might give us an idea of how far he takes them from the grab sites. And it might also help us know where to look for the other women, depending on what we find.” Both Carly and Marcus moved into action—pulling up their computers, calling off dates and locations, examining the files.

“Ian?” Vivienne's voice held a note of concern.

He swiveled his eyes from his officers to Vivienne. He could tell by the look on her face that she'd seen the same pattern on the board he had. He gave an almost imperceptible nod.

“And folks, I hate to say this, but I think we need to work fast,” Ian added. Both heads shot up. “When he started his spree, he went after about one woman a year for several years,” Ian continued. “But in recent years, his attacks have been getting closer and closer together.
If all these women really are his victims, a few years ago he went after two a year. Then there were the three in Boston, all in one year. After that, it looks like there might have been a short break for some reason, but he picked up again a little less than a year ago, and since then he's already gone after two, with Rebecca being the most recent.”

“What does that mean? Other than the obvious, I mean,” Marcus asked.

“It means that he is devolving,” Vivienne answered. “Whatever it is that's driving him is becoming more and more of an obsession. To the extent he's losing control over it.”

“Isn't that the definition of an obsession? Having no control?” Carly asked.

“That's the definition of an addiction,” Vivienne corrected. “With a lot of serial killers, killing itself is a kind of addiction, they get a high from it. But some are driven by compulsion, the desire to commit the act itself, and some by obsession, a desire or need for something else that results in the killing.”

“Is there a difference that can help us?” Ian asked, unsure why what drives a killer would matter.

“Maybe.”

Ian didn't like the sound of doubt in her voice. “Vivienne?” he prompted.

She sighed. “Compulsive killers can often be easier to identify because the more they kill, the clearer their compulsion becomes to those of us trying to find them. And, at some point, their compulsion can overwhelm other parts of their personality, making it harder for them to hide what they've done.”

Ian crossed his arms over his chest. “And obsessive ones?”

“Honestly, they're all over the board. It all depends on the obsession.”

The cool breeze and clean scent of spring that blew into the room through the open window was so at odds with the conversation that Ian felt unbalanced for a moment. But watching Vivienne pull her hair back into a ponytail, as if girding herself for battle, brought him back to the here and now.

“What do you think his obsession is?”

“This woman, whoever she is.” There was no doubt in her answer as she gave a sweeping gesture that encompassed all the women on the board.

“And what does that mean for us?”

“He'll keep going until he gets her. Whether or not he falls apart before that happens, your guess is as good as mine.”

Ian liked the sound of that about as much she did, judging by the look on her face. “When you say “gets her,” what do you mean? It sounds like you're talking about a specific woman, but you're looking at all of them.”

“Oh, it's definitely a specific woman. And I think he wants her as a lover. And when he can't have her or doesn't get her, he takes out his frustrations on these other women,” Vivienne answered.

“Uh, what's the likelihood of him actually being able to be her lover?” Carly's voice was filled with disgust.

“And what happens if he is, will it be over?” Marcus asked.

“It depends on who she is. If she's a celebrity, it's unlikely. If it's just a woman he knows, it's always possible, depending on how charming he is. And, as to your question, Marcus, if only it were that simple. What I've seen is that once obsessive killers actually get their hands on the person or object of their obsession, paranoia sets in and they devolve in a whole different way than, say, how compulsive killers might devolve.”

“Meaning?” Ian pressed.

“They are unpredictable. They might kill themselves because they don't think they are worthy. If their object of obsession is a person, they may kill him or her. They might also start to believe that the people around them are starting to judge them, believe them unworthy.”

“And take it out on a big crowd of people?” This whole thing started out as a nightmare for Ian and it was only getting worse. At least in Afghanistan they had a general idea of who the bad people were and what they might do. When they would do it, who knew? But at least they knew what to look for.

“I've seen it happen,” Vivienne said quietly.

“Shit,” Ian muttered, more to himself than anyone else.

“So, is there any way to find out who his obsession is?” Carly posited.

“And do what, use her as bait? Come on Carly, you know we'd never do that,” Marcus responded.

“No, we wouldn't,” Ian interjected. “But I imagine, like most things, the more we know about his obsession, the more likely we are to find him.” He turned to Vivienne, who was nodding.

“If we can find the woman, it's more likely than not the killer will be someone she knows. But that makes it sound easier than it is because she may not know she knows him. It's possible he could be her brother or an uncle or something like that. But it's just as likely to be the guy at the coffee shop who serves her coffee every day, or the male nurse at her doctor's office. But still, if we can find her we might be able to narrow the playing field, so to speak.”

“But we don't have to find her, do we, to find him?” Ian believed in Vivienne's work as a forensic psychologist and didn't discount the benefit of knowing the victim, but everything in him screamed to find the killer.

“You're right. It's a bit if the chicken and egg scenario. We can try to find her in order to find him, or we can try to find him directly through the evidence. We don't have a lot of physical evidence in these cases, but we should be tracking both avenues,” she answered.

“We may have some more evidence,” Carly said, standing and holding out three files. “The families of these three victims have left standing permissions to have the bodies exhumed if it will help find the person responsible.”

Ian took one of the files and handed the other two to Vivienne. He flipped it open and saw the face of a young woman smiling back at him. Her long brown hair was blowing in a breeze, and her dark brown eyes sparkled in laughter. She'd been twenty-nine when she was killed. Her body found in an abandoned mine shaft in Virginia, not far from her DC home. Her parents had included a directive in the case file that left no room for doubt, agreeing to the exhumation of their only child if it meant someone might bring the person responsible to justice.