close-up pictures of Margaret Geraty’s hideously mutilated corpse.
“His first killing was his most violent,” she said. “These wounds are deep and ugly—worse even than his next two victims. I’ll bet your technicians have already determined that he inflicted these wounds really rapidly, one right after another.”
Flores nodded with admiration.
“You’re right.”
Meredith looked at Riley with curiosity.
“What does that tell you?” Meredith asked.
Riley took a deep breath. She found herself slipping into the killer’s mind again.
“I’m pretty sure of something,” she said. “He’s never had sex with another human being in his life. He’s probably never even been on a date. He’s homely and unattractive. Women have always rejected him.”
Riley paused for a moment, collecting her thoughts.
“One day he finally snapped,” she said. “He abducted Margaret Geraty, bound her, stripped her, and tried to rape her.”
Flores gasped with sudden comprehension.
“But he couldn’t do it!” Flores said.
“Right, he’s completely impotent,” Riley said. “And when he couldn’t rape her, he went into a rage. He started stabbing—the closest he could get to sexual penetration. It was the first act of violence he’d ever committed in his life. My guess is he didn’t even bother to keep her alive for long.”
Flores pointed to a paragraph in the official report.
“Your guess is right,” he said. “Geraty’s body was found just a couple of days after she disappeared.”
Riley felt a deepening terror at her own words.
“And he liked it,” she said. “He liked Geraty’s terror and pain. He liked all the cutting and stabbing. So he’s made it his ritual ever since. And he’s learned to take his time about it, to enjoy every minute of it. With Reba Frye, the fear and torture went on for more than a week.”
A chill of silence settled over the room.
“What about the doll connection?” Meredith asked. “Why are you so sure he’s creating a doll?”
“The bodies sure look like dolls,” Bill said. “At least the last two. Riley’s right about that.”
“It is about dolls,” Riley said quietly. “But I don’t know exactly why. There’s probably some sort of revenge element here.”
Finally Flores asked, “So do you think we’re looking for a registered offender at all?”
“Could be,” Riley said. “But not a rapist, not a violent predator. It would be somebody more innocuous, less threatening—a Peeping Tom, or a flasher, or somebody who masturbates in public.”
Flores typed vigorously.
“Okay,” he said. “I’ll get rid of the violent offenders.”
The number of red dots on the map lessened to a handful.
“So who have we got left?” Riley asked Flores.
Flores glanced at a few records, then gasped.
“I think I’ve got him,” Flores said. “I think I’ve got your man. His name’s Ross Blackwell. And get this. He was working in a toy store when he got caught posing dolls in kinky positions. Like they were having all kinds of weird sex. The owner called the police. Blackwell got probation, but the authorities have had their eye on him ever since.”
Meredith stroked his chin thoughtfully. “Could be our guy,” he said.
“Should Agent Paige and I go check on him right now?” Bill asked.
“We don’t have enough to bring him in,” Meredith said. “Or to get a warrant for any kind of a search. We’d better not alarm him. If he’s our guy and he’s as smart as we think he is, he’s liable to slip through our fingers. Pay him a little visit tomorrow. Find out what he’s got to say about himself. Handle him carefully.”
Chapter 11
It was very dark by the time Riley got back home into Fredericksburg and, if anything, she felt her night was almost sure to get worse. She felt a spasm of déjà vu as she pulled her car in front of the large house in a respectable suburban neighborhood. She’d once shared this house with Ryan and their
“His first killing was his most violent,” she said. “These wounds are deep and ugly—worse even than his next two victims. I’ll bet your technicians have already determined that he inflicted these wounds really rapidly, one right after another.”
Flores nodded with admiration.
“You’re right.”
Meredith looked at Riley with curiosity.
“What does that tell you?” Meredith asked.
Riley took a deep breath. She found herself slipping into the killer’s mind again.
“I’m pretty sure of something,” she said. “He’s never had sex with another human being in his life. He’s probably never even been on a date. He’s homely and unattractive. Women have always rejected him.”
Riley paused for a moment, collecting her thoughts.
“One day he finally snapped,” she said. “He abducted Margaret Geraty, bound her, stripped her, and tried to rape her.”
Flores gasped with sudden comprehension.
“But he couldn’t do it!” Flores said.
“Right, he’s completely impotent,” Riley said. “And when he couldn’t rape her, he went into a rage. He started stabbing—the closest he could get to sexual penetration. It was the first act of violence he’d ever committed in his life. My guess is he didn’t even bother to keep her alive for long.”
Flores pointed to a paragraph in the official report.
“Your guess is right,” he said. “Geraty’s body was found just a couple of days after she disappeared.”
Riley felt a deepening terror at her own words.
“And he liked it,” she said. “He liked Geraty’s terror and pain. He liked all the cutting and stabbing. So he’s made it his ritual ever since. And he’s learned to take his time about it, to enjoy every minute of it. With Reba Frye, the fear and torture went on for more than a week.”
A chill of silence settled over the room.
“What about the doll connection?” Meredith asked. “Why are you so sure he’s creating a doll?”
“The bodies sure look like dolls,” Bill said. “At least the last two. Riley’s right about that.”
“It is about dolls,” Riley said quietly. “But I don’t know exactly why. There’s probably some sort of revenge element here.”
Finally Flores asked, “So do you think we’re looking for a registered offender at all?”
“Could be,” Riley said. “But not a rapist, not a violent predator. It would be somebody more innocuous, less threatening—a Peeping Tom, or a flasher, or somebody who masturbates in public.”
Flores typed vigorously.
“Okay,” he said. “I’ll get rid of the violent offenders.”
The number of red dots on the map lessened to a handful.
“So who have we got left?” Riley asked Flores.
Flores glanced at a few records, then gasped.
“I think I’ve got him,” Flores said. “I think I’ve got your man. His name’s Ross Blackwell. And get this. He was working in a toy store when he got caught posing dolls in kinky positions. Like they were having all kinds of weird sex. The owner called the police. Blackwell got probation, but the authorities have had their eye on him ever since.”
Meredith stroked his chin thoughtfully. “Could be our guy,” he said.
“Should Agent Paige and I go check on him right now?” Bill asked.
“We don’t have enough to bring him in,” Meredith said. “Or to get a warrant for any kind of a search. We’d better not alarm him. If he’s our guy and he’s as smart as we think he is, he’s liable to slip through our fingers. Pay him a little visit tomorrow. Find out what he’s got to say about himself. Handle him carefully.”
Chapter 11
It was very dark by the time Riley got back home into Fredericksburg and, if anything, she felt her night was almost sure to get worse. She felt a spasm of déjà vu as she pulled her car in front of the large house in a respectable suburban neighborhood. She’d once shared this house with Ryan and their
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