people’s reactions. In which case, he might
involve himself in the investigation and watch it unfold
from within.”
Marshall nodded. “That’s what I think. I have a few
other ideas I’d like to test, too,” she said, turning her gaze
back to the interview room. Powell and Rick were still
talking about the case.
“So you like serial killers?” Powell asked.
“I’ve been fascinated with them since I was in high
school,” Rick replied. “I used to read about them in books
all the time. It’s my dream to do what you guys are doing,
going around the states solving these kinda cases.” “Well, show us what you can do, and I might put in a
good word for you.”
Rick beamed with joy. “Seriously? Oh man, where do
I start? He makes no effort to hide the bodies, so he
clearly wants us to find them. I’d say he’s also pretty sure
of himself. Maybe even narcissistic.”
“That’s good. What else?” Powell leaned in closer,
resting his chin on his clasped hands.
“The way he cuts the bodies, it’s almost like looking
at two different killers sometimes. There are neat,
methodical slashes, but some of them are messy, like he
loses his cool and goes on a rampage. So I’d say we’re
looking at borderline personality disorder.”
“I’d better watch my back, or you’ll be after my job
before long,” Powell said.
Rick leaned back and grinned. The poor bastard didn’t
seem to have a clue what was happening. Either that, or he
knew and was putting on a very good act.
“What about his victims?” Powell asked. He brought
out a selection of photos from the file and laid them out
across the desk.
“There’s no obvious pattern, other than that they’re all
male and in their twenties or thirties,” Rick said, leaning
over the desk to study the photos closer. After a minute or
so, he shook his head. “I dunno. There must be some
reason he’s choosing these people. He seems too smart to
pick them at random.”
“I agree. We’re going to be doing background checks
to see if we can find a common denominator. I hear
there’s a theory going around that he’s targeting child
abusers. What do you think about that?”
Rick shrugged. “It makes sense. I mean, the way
he…you know…”
“Mutilates their genitals?” Powell suggested. The young man nodded and clenched his fists. “Yeah,
that. It might be his way of playing out a fantasy against
his abuser. But we couldn’t find any evidence to suggest
all the victims had been involved in abuse.”
Powell motioned to two of the pictures, pushing them
forward. “One of these men was a known pedophile, and
the other was accused of molesting a young girl. Says here
in the records that you interviewed the pastor about the
claims.”
Rick sat up straight and narrowed his eyes. “Yeah, I
did.”
“Do you think he was guilty?”
“Probably, yeah. He never answered questions
directly, like he was trying to hide something.”
The agent nodded and pulled the photos back. “Maybe
the killer thought so, too. That just leaves four victims.
Did you ever see any of them before?”
Rick shook his head, but pointed to the end picture.
“Just Fernando.”
“I guess it was inevitable since you both work here.
Did you know him well?”
“Not really.” Rick folded his arms and huffed. “I tried
to stay out of his way as much as possible. He’d been
giving me a hard time since I joined.”
Powell leaned in but didn’t say anything. Silence
settled in over the interview room, and I wondered what
he was thinking, when Rick opened his mouth again. “He was always calling me names and laughing at me.
The other officers started calling me Chicken Shit because
of him. Made my life fucking hell last year, and no one
would do anything because he was the deputy chief’s
nephew.”
“I hate guys like that,” Powell replied. “They kinda
make you wish someone would do something about them,
don’t they?”
“Yeah,” Rick said. Then his eyes went wide and all
the color drained
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