Crush - Alan Jacobson [60]
Everyone stood there, silently absorbing Vail’s analysis.
“Okay,” Brix said. “So let’s figure out what we have here. Same killer, right?”
Vail opened her eyes. “Looks like it, yes.”
“He killed again, right after we spurned his demand to go public,” Brix said.
“Not to mention the text message,” Dixon said.
Fuller asked, “What text message?”
“Karen got a text message,” Dixon said, “about three hours ago, after the article was posted to the Press’s website.”
Brix shot her a look. Vail interpreted it as, Why weren’t we told about this?
“There was no point in notifying everyone,” Dixon said. “There was nothing we could do but wait for something to happen.”
“Well, something happened,” Fuller said.
Vail stood up. “You’re the one who reads all the profiling books, Wonder Boy. What do you have to say about this?”
Fuller’s face flushed the burgundy side of Cabernet. His eyes surveyed the faces of everyone, who were now looking at him, as if they were expecting an answer. “I—the texts don’t address this.”
“I can tell you this,” Vail said. “His actions fit those of a narcissistic killer, and I think it’s important we start treating him like one. It’s entirely possible this kill was meant to get our attention, a response to our decision to reject his demands.”
“Your decision,” Fuller said.
“My decision,” Brix said. “We discussed it, and based on what we had, I felt this was the way to go. No one has all the answers. But goddamn it, we’re doing the best we can.”
“I need some time to digest this,” Vail said. “For now, let’s get back to basics. First off, I don’t think the victim was killed here.”
“Why not?” Lugo asked. “The body’s here, and obviously the blood drained underneath it.”
“Yes, the blood,” she said, motioning to the soaked soil. “So it’s safe to say this is where the cutting was done. But assuming the guy’s MO hasn’t changed, we’ll find that the trachea was crushed. Like I demonstrated back at the sheriff’s department, he’d need to force the victim up against a wall using his forearm, remember? That’s his MO, and it’s worked well so far, so no need to change it. But there’s no place for him to do that here. So I think he was killed somewhere else, somewhere close, then brought here and sliced and diced.”
Dixon said, “But we’ve got something new here. It’s a guy, which means, theoretically, at least, he chose a victim that wasn’t as easily subdued.”
Vail nodded. “That’s part of what bothers me. Why he suddenly changed. Could mean our UNSUB is extremely confident that he could overpower his victims. He’s either skilled in some form of martial art that enables him to efficiently control or debilitate an individual, or—”
“He knows them,” Brix said.
“Exactly. He knows them, so they don’t see him as a threat. Could also be he’s a person of authority or standing, so he can get close without someone seeing him as a threat.”
“If that were the case,” Brix said, “how does that fit with the wine cave at Silver Ridge?”
“Hard to say at this point. Someone of authority in a place like that would stand out, the employees would tend to remember him. Unless, of course, it’s someone they’re accustomed to seeing there.”
Brix stared at her.
Vail figured he thought that comment was intended for him—which it was—but only as a jab, not because she thought he was the offender.
“This guy could be changing his appearance, too,” Lugo said. “He may’ve worn a uniform for this kill, but regular clothing for the wine cave murder so he wouldn’t stand out.”
“Uniform,” Fuller said. “You saying it’s a cop?”
Lugo squinted at his colleague. “Lots of people wear uniforms, Scott. Gas, electric, water department workers, security guards. But