Thr3e by Ted Dekker Page B

word forensics in there, for those who grew up in Backwater, Louisiana .
    “Fair enough. But I don’t want you talking to the media.”
    “I wouldn’t think of robbing you of all that airtime, sir.”
    “I think we have an understanding.”
    “Good. I reviewed your file as of an hour ago.” She looked at Nancy. “You do quick work.”
    “We try,” Nancy said. “You might want to take a look at it again. We found a timer.”
    “Preset?”
    “No. A receiver set the timer off, but from what I can gather, there was no way to terminate the timer once it was engaged.”
    Jennifer glanced at Milton. “So whoever did this had no intention of terminating the detonation, regardless of his threat.”
    “So it seems.”
    “Anything else?”
    Milton stood and turned to the blinds behind his chair. He parted them and looked down at the street. “So what does your crystal ball tell you on this one, Agent Peters?”
    “It’s early.”
    “Humor me.”
    They were undoubtedly thinking Riddle Killer, but she went with a conservative analysis.
    “Best guess, we have a white male who is extremely angry, but not angry enough to compromise his precision or method. He’s smart. And he knows it. He knew what kind of bomb to build, how to place it, how to detonate without detection. In fact, he knew that Mr. Parson would escape unharmed, and he knew that his riddle would go unsolved. That’s why he didn’t bother wasting resources on a termination switch.”
    “Random victim?” Nancy asked.
    “Nothing with this guy is random. If the victim isn’t a past acquaintance, then he was selected for specific reasons. His profession, his habits, the way he combs his hair.”
    “Which is why Parson’s insistence that he doesn’t know anyone who might hold a grudge doesn’t add up,” Milton said.
    “Not necessarily. You’re a cop who can list a hundred people who would take your head off, given the opportunity. The average citizen doesn’t have those kinds of enemies. We’re dealing with someone who’s probably insane—a sideways look on a train could mark you as his next target.” She paused. “That’s what I would say based solely on what you’ve given me. But as it turns out, I have more.”
    “Riddle Killer,” Nancy said.
    Jennifer looked at her and wondered if she knew about Roy. “Yes. Same MO. The last killing we’ve attributed to this guy was three months ago in Sacramento, but from every indication, we’re dealing with the same man.”
    “He used riddles, but did he ever not kill a victim?” Milton asked.
    “You’re right; this one’s different. All five of his victims were given one riddle and then killed when they failed to solve it. Which means he’s not finished with Kevin Parson. He didn’t just blow up a car without hurting anyone for the fun of it. He’s stretching himself. He’s bored. He wants a new challenge. Stringing together multiple riddles is the logical progression, but it also takes more time. He would have to study his mark well enough to sustain continued threats. That means lots of surveillance over many days. It’s one thing to pull off one stunt. This guy’s planning on doing this again. That kind of planning takes time. Could explain why the Riddle Killer has been so quiet over the last three months.”
    “This guy gave a name,” Bransford said. “Slater. The Riddle Killer remained nameless.”
    “Again. A progression, in my opinion.” Jennifer pulled a thick file from her briefcase and set it on the desk. The tab had two capital letters on it: R. K.
    “Don’t let the size fool you; we don’t know as much as you might think. There’s a lot of psychological profile data in here. When it comes to evidence, this guy’s as clean as they come. None of the bodies was abused in any way. The first four were asphyxiated; the last was killed with a bomb. All four asphyxiated bodies were reported to the police by the killer himself and left on park benches. For all practical