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and carefree that she broke Charlie’s heart. Once upon a time, Charlie had looked like that herself. Holly had looked like that. Until they, too, had been ambushed by random evil.
    Only this time, Charlie was in a position to fight back.
    “I’m ready.” Charlie nodded at Crane, who pushed the record button on the video camera he was holding. They had agreed that her insights would be recorded so that they could be viewed by the investigative team, which would convene again in the morning. The recording could then be replayed whenever and wherever it was needed.
    “Go ahead,” Crane said.
    “This guy hates his mother,” Charlie said into the camera. “Or his mother substitute. He was very likely raised by a single mother, probably biological but possibly adoptive or foster, middle- to upper-middle-class household. His mother or mother figure was abusive to him from a young age. Certainly physically and psychologically, possibly sexually as well.”
    “You can tell that from looking at a couple of autopsy pictures?” Kaminsky broke in skeptically.
    Charlie glanced at her. “Yes.” Turning back to the monitor, she pointed to the wound on Julie Mead’s neck. Crane came around with the camera to capture what she was pointing at. “The depth and severity of this wound indicates extreme rage and hatred. Either the killer knew this victim well and hated her, or she served as a symbol of a similar figure in his own life whom he hated. We have to assumethe latter, because this is the third matriarchal figure to suffer this violent of an injury, and it’s very unlikely that the killer personally knew and hated all the mothers in all three of the targeted families. Therefore, she acted as a surrogate for his own.”
    “Okay.” Crane turned the camera from the screen back to Charlie. “So why a middle- to upper-middle-class household?”
    “Because of the nature of the victims. Bayley Evans’ family—all three families—are middle to upper-middle class. The killer is targeting these families for a specific reason, which is most likely that they remind him in some way of the circumstances in which he himself grew up. He is in part lashing out at his past.”
    Kaminsky looked unconvinced. Charlie felt a flicker of annoyance.
    “Anything else?” Crane asked.
    “The killer is probably an only child. Or if there are siblings, they were much older and out of the house when he was growing up.”
    Kaminsky’s brows went up. “How can you possibly tell that from autopsy pictures?”
    Charlie kept a grip on her patience. “If you’ll call up a full body photo of each member of Bayley Evans’ family, I’ll show you.” The vagaries of an unfamiliar computer system were the reason Kaminsky was in the room: Kaminsky knew how to operate it. Charlie was perfectly proficient with computers, and it wouldn’t have taken her long to figure it out, she didn’t think, but however long it took her was time Bayley Evans didn’t have.
    Or at least, that was how Bartoli had put it when he had ordered Kaminsky to work with Charlie on this.
    A moment later autopsy pictures of Julie Mead; her husband, Thomas Mead; and their son and Bayley’s half brother, Trevor Mead, appeared side by side on the screen.
    Charlie tried not to notice that Trevor Mead was a cute eleven-year-old kid. The only way she was going to get through this was if she mentally objectified the victims.
    “The killing wounds in both of these victims were stabs, not slashes.” She pointed to the wounds on the torsos of Thomas and Trevor. “The only slashes were suffered by Julie Mead.” There were slashes to the woman’s arms and chest area and left cheek in addition to the fatal wound to the neck. Charlie pointed to each of them inturn. “The father and son were simply killed in the most efficient manner possible. The mother was slain with far more emotion, as the slashes clearly indicate.”
    “He would have to be a pretty big guy to overpower Thomas