Sense of Evil - Kay Hooper [9]
“You mean he could be punishing them for their success?”
“It's a possibility. Also a possibility that he was attracted to them because of their success and was rejected by them when he expressed his interest.”
“Men get rejected all the time. They don't turn to butchery.”
“No. The vast majority don't. Which is a good thing, don't you think?”
Rafe frowned slightly, but she was going on before he could comment.
“It means this particular man has some serious, deep-seated emotional and psychological problems, which have apparently lain dormant or at least were hidden here in Hastings until about three weeks ago.”
“Hence the trigger.”
Isabel nodded. “There's no question about that, not as far as we're concerned. Something happened. To him, in his life. A change. Whether it was an actual event or a paranoid delusion on his part remains to be seen. But something set him off. Something definitive.”
Rafe glanced at his watch, wondering if there was time today to visit all three crime scenes.
“Starting with the actual crime scenes,” Isabel said, “would probably be the best way to go. According to the map I studied, they're within a five-mile area. And it's still hours till sunset, so we have time.”
“Where's your partner?” Rafe asked. “I was told there'd be at least two of you.”
“She's settling in. Wandering around, getting a feel for the town.”
“Please tell me she isn't blond.”
“She isn't.” Isabel smiled. “But if you're wondering, she doesn't resemble the conventional FBI suit any more than I do. The SCU really is an unusual unit within the Bureau, and few of us conform to any sort of dress code unless we're actually on FBI grounds. Casual and understated are sort of our watchwords.”
Rafe eyed her but decided not to comment on that. “And do you normally show up unarmed?”
“Who says I'm unarmed?” She lifted one hand and gently wiggled her fingers, each one adorned with a neat, but hardly understated, red-polished oval nail.
Hearing the faint note of mockery in her voice, Rafe sighed and said, “Let me guess. Martial-arts expert?”
“I've trained,” she admitted.
“Black belt?”
“Got that when I was twelve.” She smiled again. “But if it makes you feel better, I'm also wearing a calf holster—usually my backup, since my service automatic is worn in a belt holster. Our unit doesn't break all the rules, just some of them; on duty, we're expected to be armed. Since I was taking a casual look around town, a visible weapon would have been a bit conspicuous, I thought.”
Rafe had noticed that her jeans were very close-fitting from waist to knees, so he couldn't help asking, “Can you get to that weapon in a hurry if you have to?”
“You'd be surprised.”
He wanted to tell her he wasn't sure he could take too many more surprises but instead said only, “We've set up a conference room here as a base of operations, so all the reports, evidence, and statements are there. Couple of good computers with high-speed Internet access, plenty of phones. Standard supplies. Anything else that's needed, I'll get.”
“In a situation like this, the city fathers generally say to hell with the budget.”
“Which they pretty much did.”
“Still, you and I both know it'll come down to basic police work, so the budget is likely to go toward overtime rather than anything fancier. As for the crime scenes, I really would like to take a look at them today. And it would help if it's just you and me out there this time. The fewer people around me when I'm studying a crime scene, the better.”
“Fewer distractions?”
“Exactly.”
“We've kept the scenes roped off,” Rafe said, “but I'd bet my pension that at least a dozen kids have tramped all over them despite the warnings. Or because of them.”
“Yeah, kids tend to be curious about crime scenes, so that's to be expected.”
More than a little curious himself, Rafe said, “It's rained since we found Tricia Kane's body on Monday; what do you expect to find?”
“I'm not likely to find anything you and your people missed,” Isabel replied, her matter-of-fact tone making it an acknowledgment rather