he has a vigilante mentality. Look, check out this letter he sent to the local papers.” Annie found the newspaper and read, “ ‘The city belongs to the people who pay the taxes that pay the police and the firemen and the city workers. I’m a street cleaner, just like them.’ ”
“Ugly.” He frowned. “Who thinks like that?”
“Some misguided soul in Denton, Ohio.” She yawned and closed the file cover. “How about your case, you ready to talk about it now?”
“I don’t know what else to tell you that you haven’t already read for yourself. I’m finding it confusing as hell.”
“It is confusing, but I still think you’re looking for two different people, Evan.”
“The killer is doing exactly the same things, in exactly the same manner. Rape the girl, slash the throat. Dump the body. Steal the shoes. The murders are identical.”
“Except for one very important difference. The victims. And you know what I always say.” She poked him in the ribs with her pen.
“Yeah, yeah. Know the victims, know the killer.”
“Are you humoring me?”
“Nope. That’s what you always say. And you’re usually right; at least, in my experience with you, that’s held true. I just don’t see how it could be two different killers. Especially since we haven’t released any of the details about the crimes. I just wish we had something—hair samples, DNA, something—that we could use to confirm one way or the other. We’ve kept the MO, the signature, all of the important things, under wraps. And as far as I know, there haven’t been any leaks.”
“Well, someone is talking. The second killer has to be someone close to the investigation.”
“You realize what you’re saying?” He bristled. “The only people close to the investigation are the cops working the case. I’ve known all these guys forever, since I joined the force in Lyndon. I’ve worked with every one of them at one time or another, either as a county detective or as a Lyndon cop. I can’t believe that any of these guys would kill a kid.”
“Someone’s killing them, Evan. And you of all people should know that killers don’t look like killers. They look like the rest of us.”
“I can’t argue with that, but I just don’t see any of these guys killing little girls. I couldn’t even narrow the list down to a few likely suspects, Annie.”
“It’ll be the person you least expect. It always is,” she said almost absently as she made notes on the yellow legal pad.
“So, you almost finished with your analysis?”
“Almost.” She nodded. “I won’t be too much longer. I want to get this e-mailed to the chief of police tonight.”
He sat up and began to lay the photos of the murdered girls side by side across the table.
“Those are your vics?” She looked up from her notes.
He nodded and continued setting out the pictures in order of the girls’ deaths.
Annie put her notes aside and sat next to him, studying the photos.
“It’s not the same guy, sweetie,” she said softly.
“Annie . . .”
“Look at these girls in their school uniforms, at the way they project such innocence. Now look at them through his eyes, at the way he’s left them, defiled. He’s ruined them. He’s taken something clean and pure and ravaged it. He’s stolen from them. He has tremendous power over them now. He’s definitely feeling very proud, very smug. He’s stolen something precious, and no one can stop him. No one is
powerful
enough to stop him.”
“You think this is mostly about power for him?”
“It is only about power. My guess is he works a low-level job where he’s in contact with people whom he perceives as socially and economically superior to him.”
“We all come in contact with people like that.”
“This is daily, this is close contact on a daily basis. He resents that he’s placed in a position of inferiority, of subservience, when he knows he’s morally and intellectually superior to all of them. That
“Ugly.” He frowned. “Who thinks like that?”
“Some misguided soul in Denton, Ohio.” She yawned and closed the file cover. “How about your case, you ready to talk about it now?”
“I don’t know what else to tell you that you haven’t already read for yourself. I’m finding it confusing as hell.”
“It is confusing, but I still think you’re looking for two different people, Evan.”
“The killer is doing exactly the same things, in exactly the same manner. Rape the girl, slash the throat. Dump the body. Steal the shoes. The murders are identical.”
“Except for one very important difference. The victims. And you know what I always say.” She poked him in the ribs with her pen.
“Yeah, yeah. Know the victims, know the killer.”
“Are you humoring me?”
“Nope. That’s what you always say. And you’re usually right; at least, in my experience with you, that’s held true. I just don’t see how it could be two different killers. Especially since we haven’t released any of the details about the crimes. I just wish we had something—hair samples, DNA, something—that we could use to confirm one way or the other. We’ve kept the MO, the signature, all of the important things, under wraps. And as far as I know, there haven’t been any leaks.”
“Well, someone is talking. The second killer has to be someone close to the investigation.”
“You realize what you’re saying?” He bristled. “The only people close to the investigation are the cops working the case. I’ve known all these guys forever, since I joined the force in Lyndon. I’ve worked with every one of them at one time or another, either as a county detective or as a Lyndon cop. I can’t believe that any of these guys would kill a kid.”
“Someone’s killing them, Evan. And you of all people should know that killers don’t look like killers. They look like the rest of us.”
“I can’t argue with that, but I just don’t see any of these guys killing little girls. I couldn’t even narrow the list down to a few likely suspects, Annie.”
“It’ll be the person you least expect. It always is,” she said almost absently as she made notes on the yellow legal pad.
“So, you almost finished with your analysis?”
“Almost.” She nodded. “I won’t be too much longer. I want to get this e-mailed to the chief of police tonight.”
He sat up and began to lay the photos of the murdered girls side by side across the table.
“Those are your vics?” She looked up from her notes.
He nodded and continued setting out the pictures in order of the girls’ deaths.
Annie put her notes aside and sat next to him, studying the photos.
“It’s not the same guy, sweetie,” she said softly.
“Annie . . .”
“Look at these girls in their school uniforms, at the way they project such innocence. Now look at them through his eyes, at the way he’s left them, defiled. He’s ruined them. He’s taken something clean and pure and ravaged it. He’s stolen from them. He has tremendous power over them now. He’s definitely feeling very proud, very smug. He’s stolen something precious, and no one can stop him. No one is
powerful
enough to stop him.”
“You think this is mostly about power for him?”
“It is only about power. My guess is he works a low-level job where he’s in contact with people whom he perceives as socially and economically superior to him.”
“We all come in contact with people like that.”
“This is daily, this is close contact on a daily basis. He resents that he’s placed in a position of inferiority, of subservience, when he knows he’s morally and intellectually superior to all of them. That
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