pieces of a gruesome puzzle. Andie wasn't a total neophyte, but it unsettled her to stare into the bulging eyes of a strangulation victim.
Victoria returned to her seat, facing the photographs.
Andie pulled up a chair. "This will just take a minute." "It's okay," said Victoria. "I needed a break anyway." "I've had something on my mind since the task forc e m eeting."
"Was there something we didn't cover?"
Andie felt baited. It was as if Victoria knew why she had come. "Actually, yes."
"Your bookend theory?"
"That's the one."
Victoria smiled thinly. "I was wondering how long it would take for you to come talk to me about it."
"I'm not pushing it. I'm just curious, that's all. It did make front-page news this morning. But in, the whole three-hour meeting, you hardly mentioned it."
"Everyone in that room had read this morning's paper. A serious discussion about it would have galvanized their thinking. It's like I told you in the car. If it's a bogus theory, we don't want to give our task force a full head of steam heading in the wrong direction."
"Why are you so sure it's bogus?"
"I didn't say it was."
"Do you think it has any merit? Possibly, I mean?"
"Would it make you feel better if I said I did?"
"Maybe."
Victoria raised an eyebrow. Andie said, "Okay, yes, it would. And that's not because I'm some kind of egomaniac. It's just that your little speech in the car this morning left me twisting in the wind."
"How do you mean?"
"You said it was okay that my theory leaked to the press, so long as I was right."
"That's right."
"Well, I don't think it's fair to hoist the blade up the guillotine and then give me no indication as to whether you think I was right or wrong."
Victoria nodded and said, "That's a fair complaint."
Andie wasn't sure if she was agreeing with her or simply acknowledging her right to gripe. "So, what do you think about the bookend theory?"
"It has definite appeal, if you focus on the first two victims. Both white males, fifty-one years old. Same hair and eye color. Divorced, middle-class. From a victimology standpoint, the only apparent difference is that one drove a 1989 Ford pickup and the other's was a '93. And, of course, the similarities don't end with the choice of victim. Both were strangled and stabbed exactly eleven times after death, mutilated and degraded the same way, left on display in their own living rooms. And. here's something I just picked out of the police reports. In both cases the television was on when the cops arrived. Tuned to the same damn station. KOMO, channel 4."
"So you understand where I'm coming from," said Andie.
"Of course. But there are dissimilarities, too. Until we construct a more complete profile of the killer, it's hard to know if these differences are meaningful psychological indicators or just cosmetic changes in m . O ."
"But like you say, the more you review these three cases, the more viable the bookend theory becomes."
"I didn't say that. I said the two men were remarkably similar."
"Jane Doe was also strangled."
"Yes. And unlike the men, she was photographed alive, and the pictures were sent to the Torture Victims' Institute."
"But it was the same kind of rope in all three cases. Doesn't that make you think that victim number four will look a lot like her, maybe even have her picture sent to Minneapolis?"
"Not enough to put it in the newspaper."
Andie withdrew, deflated.
Victoria shifted gears quickly, as if not to let all the air out. "By the way, what did you make of the busted eardrum?"
"The what?"
She glanced at her notepad. "I was just reading the final autopsy report on our Jane Doe, hot off the press. Didn't you pick up on that?"
"I guess I didn't focus on her ears."
"Says she had a ruptured right eardrum. Strangulation obviously creates pressure in the head, but I've never heard of it causing an eardrum to burst. Interestingly, we don't have any kind of ear trauma in the two male victims."
"You're saying what? My bookend
Victoria returned to her seat, facing the photographs.
Andie pulled up a chair. "This will just take a minute." "It's okay," said Victoria. "I needed a break anyway." "I've had something on my mind since the task forc e m eeting."
"Was there something we didn't cover?"
Andie felt baited. It was as if Victoria knew why she had come. "Actually, yes."
"Your bookend theory?"
"That's the one."
Victoria smiled thinly. "I was wondering how long it would take for you to come talk to me about it."
"I'm not pushing it. I'm just curious, that's all. It did make front-page news this morning. But in, the whole three-hour meeting, you hardly mentioned it."
"Everyone in that room had read this morning's paper. A serious discussion about it would have galvanized their thinking. It's like I told you in the car. If it's a bogus theory, we don't want to give our task force a full head of steam heading in the wrong direction."
"Why are you so sure it's bogus?"
"I didn't say it was."
"Do you think it has any merit? Possibly, I mean?"
"Would it make you feel better if I said I did?"
"Maybe."
Victoria raised an eyebrow. Andie said, "Okay, yes, it would. And that's not because I'm some kind of egomaniac. It's just that your little speech in the car this morning left me twisting in the wind."
"How do you mean?"
"You said it was okay that my theory leaked to the press, so long as I was right."
"That's right."
"Well, I don't think it's fair to hoist the blade up the guillotine and then give me no indication as to whether you think I was right or wrong."
Victoria nodded and said, "That's a fair complaint."
Andie wasn't sure if she was agreeing with her or simply acknowledging her right to gripe. "So, what do you think about the bookend theory?"
"It has definite appeal, if you focus on the first two victims. Both white males, fifty-one years old. Same hair and eye color. Divorced, middle-class. From a victimology standpoint, the only apparent difference is that one drove a 1989 Ford pickup and the other's was a '93. And, of course, the similarities don't end with the choice of victim. Both were strangled and stabbed exactly eleven times after death, mutilated and degraded the same way, left on display in their own living rooms. And. here's something I just picked out of the police reports. In both cases the television was on when the cops arrived. Tuned to the same damn station. KOMO, channel 4."
"So you understand where I'm coming from," said Andie.
"Of course. But there are dissimilarities, too. Until we construct a more complete profile of the killer, it's hard to know if these differences are meaningful psychological indicators or just cosmetic changes in m . O ."
"But like you say, the more you review these three cases, the more viable the bookend theory becomes."
"I didn't say that. I said the two men were remarkably similar."
"Jane Doe was also strangled."
"Yes. And unlike the men, she was photographed alive, and the pictures were sent to the Torture Victims' Institute."
"But it was the same kind of rope in all three cases. Doesn't that make you think that victim number four will look a lot like her, maybe even have her picture sent to Minneapolis?"
"Not enough to put it in the newspaper."
Andie withdrew, deflated.
Victoria shifted gears quickly, as if not to let all the air out. "By the way, what did you make of the busted eardrum?"
"The what?"
She glanced at her notepad. "I was just reading the final autopsy report on our Jane Doe, hot off the press. Didn't you pick up on that?"
"I guess I didn't focus on her ears."
"Says she had a ruptured right eardrum. Strangulation obviously creates pressure in the head, but I've never heard of it causing an eardrum to burst. Interestingly, we don't have any kind of ear trauma in the two male victims."
"You're saying what? My bookend
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