Silent Screams - C. E. Lawrence [114]
“Politics,” Chuck replied. “The mayor wants to let people know he’s in control and on top of things.”
“All right, so what about the instant messages the killer sent to Lee?” Nelson asked. “Any chance of tracking them?”
“Nope,” said Chuck. “It’s a cold trail. According to the computer whiz kids in the Computer Crimes department, the address and information on the account were bogus.”
“He certainly knows what he’s doing,” Florette remarked with a frown. He was dressed elegantly as usual, with a gray silk tie over a striped blue and white shirt with French cuffs.
“What about leaving a trail from where he logged on?” Lee suggested.
“Holyman logged on from different locations all over the place, including public libraries,” Chuck answered.
“So he’s used every means available to protect himself,” Florette said.
“Yep,” Chuck agreed. “And so far it’s worked.”
“So our guy is basically a ghost,” Butts remarked. “A face without a name.”
“Okay, what about the online conversation between this guy and Lee?” Chuck said. “Did anyone have a chance to study it?”
“I did, yes,” Nelson said.
“Does it tell us anything?”
“I don’t think it adds anything to the profile, other than he’s educated and articulate—but we knew that already. He’s ballsy, but that’s not news either.”
“Right,” Florette agreed. “Even if he knows his way around a computer, he has to know he’s taking a chance getting in touch like that.”
“The guys in Computer Crimes were reluctant to admit defeat. They wouldn’t even tell me exactly how he did it,” Chuck said. “Said they don’t like to give out that information.”
“Maybe they don’t want people knowing there are ways of getting around their tracking techniques,” Florette suggested.
Chuck indicated the series of crime scene photos spread out on the large poster board that had been set up in his office.
“All right, what about the placement of Sophia’s body?” Chuck said. “Any thoughts on that?”
There was a silence as they studied them; then Nelson said, “I know what he’s doing. It’s so obvious—I can’t believe I didn’t see it immediately.”
“You want to share it with us?” Chuck said. He sounded irritated; Lee didn’t think he’d entirely forgiven Nelson for his long unexplained absence.
“It’s the Via Dolorosa—the Stations of the Cross,” Nelson replied.
“The what?” Butts said.
“There are fourteen Stations of the Cross, each representing a moment in Christ’s final hours. The idea is to meditate on the major moments in Christ’s suffering and death. It’s especially popular among Roman Catholics, and it’s also called the Via Dolorosa, or Way of Sorrow.”
“How do you figure that’s what’s behind it?” asked Butts, the fat wrinkles on his forehead folding over each other. His face never resembled that of an old bulldog so much as when he was looking thoughtful.
Nelson pointed at the wide-angle shot of her leg, in which the stained-glass picture of Death was clearly visible. “The first station of the cross is Christ being condemned to death.” He pointed at the second photo, in which Sophia’s arm was placed underneath the cross at the back of the church. “The second station is Christ receiving the cross. And this,” he said, pointing to her other leg, which was positioned on a set of steep stairs leading down to the basement, “this is the third station, in which Christ falls for the first time.”
“And this one?” Florette said, pointing to the final series of photographs, in which Sophia’s other arm had been placed at the feet of a pietà.
“That’s the fourth station,” Nelson replied. “Jesus meeting his mother on the way to his death.”
“Jesus,” Chuck said, wiping sweat from his forehead, even though the room was quite cool. “What does this tell us?”
“Well,” Nelson said, “the good news is that as his rituals get more bizarre and obsessive, his daily behavior may start to draw attention to itself. The bad news is that the killing is more frenzied, and that makes him more dangerous.”
“I still think there could be two offenders at work here,” Lee commented.