Spider - Michael Morley [66]
The question hung in a cloud of thoughtful silence, before Jack finally spoke. ‘He desired her. The length of time that he spent with her before he killed her, and with her corpse afterwards, indicates that he was somehow attracted to her. Whatever the purpose of his kill, whether it was to relieve a violent tension inside him, to satisfy a deep sexual fantasy or to feed some dark psychological need, he was attracted to her. And once he had her, he wanted to keep her. You know as well as I do that maybe he was just trawling for a victim and her physical appearance was enough to set off some subliminal trigger in him that focused on her as a victim. Or it could be that there’s a more substantial link, a previous meeting at which he became attracted to her. Somehow I don’t think so. BRK stalks, kills and then –’ Jack’s voice trailed off as he tried to imagine what inner cravings drove the killer. ‘Bearing in mind how long he seems to have kept her body post mortem, it seems an extra wave of desire came crashing in on him once she was dead. It’s as though death feeds some psychological and possibly sexual need, fills some primal absence in his life.’ Jack looked off into the distance, remembering the past cases, more than a dozen women who’d met their end in similar circumstances to Cristina. He turned back to Massimo. ‘I guess we won’t really be able to answer your question on why he kills until we actually catch him, and even then we might never find out the true reasons.’
‘I agree,’ said Massimo. ‘In which case, the next big question we have to answer is: where will he kill again? Will it be here, in Italy, or back in the United States, where we believe he has returned to?’
Jack grimaced; not because of the seriousness of the questions, but because of a sharp pain inside his head, flying fast and low like a tornado and then fireballing to an explosive stop in his right temple. He felt a twitch erupt in the corner of his right eye, the same twitch he’d developed just weeks before collapsing at JFK.
‘I don’t know where,’ said Jack, catching his breath and rubbing his face, hoping to massage away the twitch. Oldwounds hadreopened andthementalscars he hoped had healed were gaping painfully again.
41
FBI Field Office, New York
Howie Baumguard and his new partner, Angelita Fernandez, sat in the conference room waiting for the IT guy to fix the video link to Rome. Howie had brought along a cappuccino with a dense topping of chocolate.
‘You going to share that?’ asked Fernandez, a slightly chubby 39-year-old with shoulder-length dark hair that Howie noticed she sometimes pulled back and pinned up in a bagel-shaped plait.
‘You mean I should have got you one?’ he asked, almost regretting making Fernandez the first recruit to his BRK task force.
‘Would have been nice,’ she teased. ‘It’s okay though, I can improvise.’ She wandered away from the conference table and came back with two plastic cups from the water cooler. She popped one inside the other, grabbed Howie’s cappuccino and tipped herself a share. ‘Thanks,’ she said, sliding back his cup.
‘Man, how I hate shy women. When are you girls going to get your shit together and start sticking up for yourselves?’ he asked wryly.
‘Got a picture,’ announced the IT guy.
All eyes flicked to the pull-down screen at the front of the room. Jack appeared, sitting next to Massimo Albonetti, chatting intently about something that was so far still inaudible.
‘Good-looking guy,’ said Fernandez. ‘Wouldn’t mind sharing some of that too.’
‘What? You like little bald Italians?’ asked Howie.
‘Not what I meant,’ said Fernandez, ‘but now you mention it, yeah, I think there are some I could give some bed space to.’
Howie smiled at her. Fernandez was eighteen months out from a painful divorce. By painful, it should be made clear that it was far more painful for her ex than for her. She’d returned home after a fourteen-hour shift to find him naked in their bed with a neighbouring housewife. After