Side Effects: An FBI Psychological Thriller by Jeff Menapace

the accommodating little smile there, but only just.
    I decided to quit while I was ahead. “Same time next week?”

CHAPTER 18
    We knew about Hal’s fear of fire. Victim number six in upstate PA had yet to be identified, so no verification on fear of being buried alive or the like was forthcoming anytime soon. So, we decided to continue moving backwards from most recent. That left us with victim number five: Douglas Caley, the nineteen-year-old in southeastern Pennsylvania, a junior at West Chester University. All the hallmarks of our guy were there—the cuffs, the excessive head trauma, the lesions on the right palm.
    Now we were hoping to test my theory.
    “So, have you given any thought to what this one’s phobia might be?” Morris asked on the drive to West Chester.
    “Assuming my theory is correct.”
    “You seemed pretty damn certain the other night at the motel.”
    “If you’d had the dream I had, you’d feel pretty certain too.”
    “So…” he said. “Thoughts on this one’s phobia then?”
    “I have no idea. How could I? It could be fear of clowns for all I know.”
    “Lots of people are afraid of clowns. You might be right.”
    I didn’t say anything.
    “We should be going to the crime scene in Coatesville so you can do your Spiderman stuff,” Morris said, “not where the kid went to school.”
    The student’s body had been discovered in the trunk of his own car in Coatesville, Pennsylvania, about twenty miles west of West Chester University. The body was only discovered after neighborhood kids playing nearby complained of the smell.
    “The crime scene is likely only a dumping spot,” I said. “Besides, Coatesville PD was thorough—they didn’t get anything.”
    “Yeah, I read the file—doesn’t mean you wouldn’t get something. That’s the whole point of this…experiment, isn’t it? Local PD got nothing at the makeshift grave in upstate PA, and then you come along and suddenly we’ve got a microfiber cloth and the very strong possibility that our guy’s trophies are film or video.”
    “We got lucky with the grave in upstate PA because our guy was interrupted doing his thing. That won’t be the case with the prior five. Our guy’s too careful to just leave their bodies on the spot when he’s finished with them.”
    “He left the homeless guy.”
    “After setting him on fire in the hope that there’d be nothing left by the time he was found.”
    “If he hadn’t been interrupted in upstate PA, our guy would have probably buried number six on the spot,” he said.
    “Right—” I said, feeling as though Morris had no heart in his own debate, but was just using (and annoying) me so he could think aloud. “ Buried him. Who knows when he’d have been found, if ever.”
    “So you think digging around the university is the way to go.”
    “I think questioning students and professors is a good start, yes.”
    “Local PD already did that. No leads.”
    “Maybe they didn’t ask the right questions.”
    “Like what? What was he afraid of?”
    “Yes,” I said straight-faced, despite Morris’ hint of sarcasm.
    Morris went quiet for a minute. Then: “You know even if we do manage to find out about some kind of phobia with this victim, or any of the victims, what does it really give us?”
    I frowned, confused. “What do you mean?”
    “I mean what I said. What does it give us?”
    “Our guy has to find out about these victims’ phobias somehow, right?” I said. “I’d say finding his method would be a damn good lead, wouldn’t you?”
    “He only needed to ask the homeless guy.”
    “After drugging him. And we’ve already agreed that Hal was an exception to his type—a one-night stand. Much as it kills me to say, the bastard got lucky Hal was as terrified of fire as he was. We need to focus on the other six if we want to see his typical methodology at work.”
    Morris went quiet for another minute. Then: “You ever figure out the cuffs with Hal? Why our guy