Killing Hour - Lisa Gardner [48]
“Well, that summarizes things nicely,” Rainie said.
Watson’s face had developed a red mottled look above his regulation red tie. Mac just kept staring him in the eye. He was angrier than he should be, making enemies when he needed allies. He didn’t care. Another girl was dead, and Mac was tired of standing in an office, discussing a case these guys would never understand in time to make a difference.
“I still see no compelling evidence between this body and what happened in Georgia.” Kaplan spoke up finally. “Did the caller tell you this so-called Eco-Killer was going to strike this week?”
“Not specifically.”
“Did he tell you it would be at the FBI Academy?”
“Can’t say that he did.”
“Did he give you a reason why this killer has done nothing for three years?”
“Nope.”
“Or why he would move from Georgia to Virginia?”
“Nope.”
“In other words, the caller has told you nothing at all.”
“You got me, sir. That is the major weakness of our investigation. Five years later, we still know nothin’, and today hasn’t changed a thing. So maybe we can wrap this up now, so I can get back out there and, you know, do something.”
The former Marine ignored him, turning his attention to the rest of the suits instead. “So what we’re really left with is a letter to the editor written six months before the body was found today. It’s too far-fetched,” he said flatly. “Some Georgian serial killer, who does nothing in three years, suddenly delivers a body to Quantico grounds, while only notifying a National Academy student. It doesn’t make any sense.”
“Should he have called you instead?” Rainie asked. Her voice held just the barest hint of sarcasm and Mac liked her immensely for it.
“That’s not what I’m saying—”
“Or maybe he should’ve explained himself better in one of his notes?”
“Now that’s not a half-bad thought! If this guy is leaving notes, where’s the one for this body? Seems to me he likes to take credit for his crimes. So where’s the ownership?”
“It’s been three years,” Rainie said. “Maybe he’s had a change of heart.”
“Listen,” Mac interjected tightly. He could feel the urgency growing in his voice. Vainly, he tried to swallow it down. But he just didn’t have time for this. They didn’t understand; without the proper paperwork and memos, they never would understand. And maybe that’s what the Eco-Killer grasped better than any of them suspected. No bureaucracy moved fast, particularly one involved in law enforcement. No, law enforcement agencies moved painfully slow, dotting i’s, crossing t’s, and covering asses along the way. While a lone girl was dropped off in some surreal wilderness terrain, clutching her gallon of water, wearing her party clothes, and probably wondering what was gonna get her next.
“There’s more than a damn letter. The Eco-Killer has rules, Rules of the Game, we call them, and we’re seeing plenty of them in this murder. At least enough to convince me.” Mac ticked off his first finger, “One, he only strikes during a heat wave.”
“It’s July, we have plenty of heat waves,” Watson objected.
Mac ignored the FBI agent. “Two, the first girl is always found with clothing and purse intact. No sign of robbery, no sign of sexual assault. Body has one bruise in the thigh or buttocks, but cause of death is an overdose of the tranquilizer Ativan, injected into the upper left arm.”
Watson skewered Kimberly with a look. “Well, you really didn’t spare him any of the details, did you?”
“I went and looked for myself!” Mac spoke up sharply. “Dammit, I’ve been waiting for this moment for three long years. Of course I paid a visit to your crime scene. New agents aren’t the only people who can go skulking around in the woods—”
“You had no right—”
“I had every right! I know this man. I have studied him for five goddamn years. And I’m telling you, we don’t have time for this kind of bullshit. Don’t you get it yet? This girl isn’t the only victim. Rule number three: he always kidnaps in pairs, because the first girl is just a map. She’s a tool to help you find where the real game is going down.”
“What do you