Silent Victim - C. E. Lawrence [84]
“Mutilation of a corpse almost always has a sexual element,” he replied.
“The mutilations are postmortem,” Chuck pointed out.
“What does that tell you?”
“That he wasn’t driven by sadism—otherwise he would have done it when they were alive.”
“Assuming he could control them that well,” Butts pointed out, digging through his jacket pockets, looking for something. “What was the cause of death?”
“Strangulation,” Chuck said.
“So he’s strong,” Krieger mused.
“Or he takes his victims by surprise,” Lee added.
“So he didn’t want them looking at him after they were dead,” Krieger said.
“That don’t make sense,” Butts said, taking a bite of a powdered doughnut. “They can’t see him once they’re dead.”
“Exactly,” Lee agreed. “Or hear him.”
“I don’t understand,” said Chuck.
“Hey, I think I know what you’re gettin’ at,” Butts said. “When I was a kid, I had to go to my uncle’s funeral, which was open casket. It freaked me out, lookin’ at this dead guy lyin’ there, and I kept waiting for his eyes to open. It was creepy—I had nightmares about it for weeks.”
“So maybe something like that happened to him when he was a child?” Krieger suggested. She looked really engaged now, and had dropped her confrontational manner.
“Whatever it was,” Lee said, “it filled him with a rage so deep that he has to kill over and over.” He looked at the picture of poor Joe, his empty eye sockets blind as Justice herself.
“And the note?” he said.
Chuck handed him a photocopy of a handwritten note, in the same block letters as the others.
Next time I’ll look twice before being such a bad boy – not.
“So now he’s a comedian,” Butts remarked with disgust. “It’s time for some undercover work,” Krieger said to
Chuck.
He frowned at her, then scratched the back of his neck.
“I don’t know. It sounds too dangerous, especially—”
“For a woman?” she said, challenging him.
“I was going to say especially after so many deaths in so short a time. We’re dealing with either a particularly driven or desperate killer.”
“I’m not afraid,” Krieger snorted.
“You may not be,” Chuck said, “but—”
Krieger wheeled around to face Lee. “Do you agree?” she demanded.
“I guess I do,” he said. “Some serial killers wait weeks or months between victims, but this one is working very fast. That could indicate he’s very confident or becoming more and more enraged, and heading for a breakdown. Either way, it means he’s extremely dangerous.”
Krieger snorted and whipped around to focus her attention on Butts, who was calmly munching on a Bavarian crème doughnut.
“And what do you think?”
Butts held up the doughnut and inspected it as if it were a precious gem.
“I say if that’s what you want, go for it.” Krieger turned to the others triumphantly. “Well?” Chuck shook his head. “I don’t like it.”
“But that’s what I do,” she protested, her voice sharp with impatience.
“I thought you were a linguistic forensic specialist,” Butts said.
“That, too,” she snapped back.
“Okay,” Chuck said reluctantly. “But you carry a cell phone and you have a uniformed and plainclothes officer on your tail every second. See Sergeant Ruggles and he’ll arrange it.”
Krieger’s face broke into a broad smile, showing large, somewhat horsy teeth. Lee realized this was the first time he had seen her really smile. He hoped it wasn’t going to be the last.
CHAPTER FORTY
“I was wondering,” Dr. Williams said, “if it’s ever occurred to you that you may never find your sister’s killer?”
It was early evening, and the sun snaking through the yellow curtains threw thin fingers of light onto the vase of white carnations on the table next to her. She sat with her long legs crossed at the ankles, her hands folded calmly in her lap.
Lee felt his throat constricting at her words, and the heat of shame rising from his neck.
“What makes you say that?” he asked in a tight voice.
“Well, it’s a possibility you may have to face at some point, and I was just wondering if it was something you’ve considered.” Her voice was mild and nonconfrontational, but his neck hairs bristled at the remark.
“That’s a rather punitive