cupped her hand at the receiver, trying not to let Victoria know it was her mother. "I gotta go," she muttered into the phone.
"We're not done," her mother answered.
"Let me put you on hold." With a push of the button she cut off her mother's protest, then waved Victoria in.
"We got a message from someone who may be the killer."
Andie did a double-take. "What kind of message?" "E-mail from a copy center in Seattle. One of those temporary office places where you can rent a computer for an hour and send all the e-mail you want over the Internet." "He sent an e-mail?"
"Photographs, actually. They appear to be our Jane Doe, alive. From the looks of things, however, I wouldn't guess she was alive for very long after the little photo session. Looks very weak, obviously been beaten. The neck was badly bruised, too, which suggests some ligature strangulation."
"You sure she was alive?"
"No question. One look at those eyes, and you know she's looking right at her killer."
Andie fell silent. "How'd you get the photos?" "Minneapolis field office sent them to me."
"He e-mailed the FBI in Minneapolis?"
"No. He sent it to the Torture Victims' Institute, which is in Minneapolis. They contacted the local FBI."
Andie asked, "There's an institute for torture victims?" "Quite an impressive organization, actually. Some ver y s killed psychotherapists. Victims of political torture al l o ver the world go there for treatment and counseling."
"So maybe he's insinuating there's some politica l a genda attached to his killings."
"No political agenda," said Victoria. "His message is more straightforward."
"Which would be what?"
"You said it at the meeting. We're dealing with a sadist. And his agenda is torture. Period."
Andie was suddenly flummoxed. Victoria sensed her discomfort. "Not sure how you should feel, are you?" Andie shook her head.
"That's the thing about profiling. Once you figure out what kind of monster you're dealing with, there's no rejoicing in being right. Not till he's caught."
Andie said nothing.
"I'm having hard copies of the photos reproduced. Yo u n eed to get them distributed to the task force as soon as they're ready. You'll also need to coordinate with the Minneapolis field office on their follow-up with the institute. I don't think an airplane trip is necessary, but make sure the personnel records are thoroughly reviewed, with an eye in particular for disgruntled former employees. Certainly if the institute has received any messages like this in the past, you'll want to check that out. And there's also an International Center for Victims of Torture. It's in Denmark. Touch base there, see if this jerk sent them anything."
"Right."
Victoria stepped out of Andie's office and closed the door behind her. Andie went back to the phone. The hold line was blinking. Her mother was waiting, primed to hash out a problem that now seemed more trivial than ever.
Andie punched the button and deliberately disconnected.
In the solitude of his bedroom, he held a pendant in his hand. His newest acquisition was already his favorite. The long braided chain weaved in and out between his fingers like golden rope. He held it higher, toward the light, allowing it full extension. No bigger than a dime, the heart-shaped pendant dangled at the end of the strand. It was a gold frame of diamonds, hollow in the middle. The fluorescent desk lamp made it sparkle. With his eyes narrowed, it looked curiously like the noose at the end of rope. That was what he loved about it.
The so-called experts would have called it a trophy--a keepsake taken from the victim. That was one of those terms he had picked up from the multitude of books written by former criminal profilers. He'd read them all and knew their secrets. It amused him the way those authors denied they were making it possible for future serial killers to avoid apprehension. Sociopaths are psychologically compelled to engage in certain conduct, the experts argued, so publication of
"We're not done," her mother answered.
"Let me put you on hold." With a push of the button she cut off her mother's protest, then waved Victoria in.
"We got a message from someone who may be the killer."
Andie did a double-take. "What kind of message?" "E-mail from a copy center in Seattle. One of those temporary office places where you can rent a computer for an hour and send all the e-mail you want over the Internet." "He sent an e-mail?"
"Photographs, actually. They appear to be our Jane Doe, alive. From the looks of things, however, I wouldn't guess she was alive for very long after the little photo session. Looks very weak, obviously been beaten. The neck was badly bruised, too, which suggests some ligature strangulation."
"You sure she was alive?"
"No question. One look at those eyes, and you know she's looking right at her killer."
Andie fell silent. "How'd you get the photos?" "Minneapolis field office sent them to me."
"He e-mailed the FBI in Minneapolis?"
"No. He sent it to the Torture Victims' Institute, which is in Minneapolis. They contacted the local FBI."
Andie asked, "There's an institute for torture victims?" "Quite an impressive organization, actually. Some ver y s killed psychotherapists. Victims of political torture al l o ver the world go there for treatment and counseling."
"So maybe he's insinuating there's some politica l a genda attached to his killings."
"No political agenda," said Victoria. "His message is more straightforward."
"Which would be what?"
"You said it at the meeting. We're dealing with a sadist. And his agenda is torture. Period."
Andie was suddenly flummoxed. Victoria sensed her discomfort. "Not sure how you should feel, are you?" Andie shook her head.
"That's the thing about profiling. Once you figure out what kind of monster you're dealing with, there's no rejoicing in being right. Not till he's caught."
Andie said nothing.
"I'm having hard copies of the photos reproduced. Yo u n eed to get them distributed to the task force as soon as they're ready. You'll also need to coordinate with the Minneapolis field office on their follow-up with the institute. I don't think an airplane trip is necessary, but make sure the personnel records are thoroughly reviewed, with an eye in particular for disgruntled former employees. Certainly if the institute has received any messages like this in the past, you'll want to check that out. And there's also an International Center for Victims of Torture. It's in Denmark. Touch base there, see if this jerk sent them anything."
"Right."
Victoria stepped out of Andie's office and closed the door behind her. Andie went back to the phone. The hold line was blinking. Her mother was waiting, primed to hash out a problem that now seemed more trivial than ever.
Andie punched the button and deliberately disconnected.
In the solitude of his bedroom, he held a pendant in his hand. His newest acquisition was already his favorite. The long braided chain weaved in and out between his fingers like golden rope. He held it higher, toward the light, allowing it full extension. No bigger than a dime, the heart-shaped pendant dangled at the end of the strand. It was a gold frame of diamonds, hollow in the middle. The fluorescent desk lamp made it sparkle. With his eyes narrowed, it looked curiously like the noose at the end of rope. That was what he loved about it.
The so-called experts would have called it a trophy--a keepsake taken from the victim. That was one of those terms he had picked up from the multitude of books written by former criminal profilers. He'd read them all and knew their secrets. It amused him the way those authors denied they were making it possible for future serial killers to avoid apprehension. Sociopaths are psychologically compelled to engage in certain conduct, the experts argued, so publication of
Similar Books
