means he’s suppressing those tendencies. He wouldn’t do that without a good reason.’
‘And he’s got a very good reason. Gasoline is horrible stuff to work with. The smell sticks to your clothing, your hair, your skin, and once that smell is on you, it’s difficult to get rid of it. Then there’s the smell of burning to take into account. That sticks to you, too. Have you ever sat around a camp fire? You’re still smelling the wood smoke days later. Fire is a stupid way to kill someone. You might as well stick a neon sign above your head advertising the fact that you’re the killer.’
‘But our unsub isn’t stupid. That’s why he gets someone else to torch the victims. He’s aware of the sort of evidence that forensics look for when dealing with arsonists.’
‘Go on,’ I encouraged. ‘You’re almost there. Take that final step. If it helps, the answer is in your earlier question. Why do I need to know if I can trust you?’
Taylor opened his mouth to tell me he didn’t have a clue what I was talking about. Nothing came out. His eyes widened with realisation.
‘Jesus. You think the unsub’s a cop.’
12
‘There’s no way this guy’s a cop, Winter. Absolutely no way. I work with these people day in, day out. If one of them was a murderer, I’d know.’
I walked over to the window and parted the drapes with one finger. There were a couple of early birds walking along Morrow Street, just in time for Happy Hour. These were your hardened drinkers, lonely lost souls who wouldn’t let something like a murder get between them and a bottle. The sun was a ferocious ball of yellow that was closing in on the horizon but it still had a way to go. I let the drape flutter down.
‘No, you wouldn’t know. For eleven years I lived with one of this country’s most notorious serial killers and I didn’t suspect a thing. My mother was with him for seventeen years. We’re talking almost two decades. For thirteen of those years they were married. They shared a bed, shared a life together, and she didn’t suspect anything. My father lived in the same small town all his life, one not much different from Eagle Creek, except it was on the other side of the country in California. Some of his friends went way back to his school days, and they didn’t suspect anything, either.’
‘You were just a kid. It’s no wonder you didn’t suspect anything. Nobody would have expected you to.’
‘And you’re missing the point. We all have multiple personalities. The average is three, but some people have more. There’s the face you wear for your friends and family, the one you let the outside world see. Then there’s the face you see every time you look in the mirror. Everyone has a dark side. We all have thoughts and feelings we’d rather not share. We’ve all lain wide awake in the dead of night and wished someone dead.’
‘You’re wrong.’
‘Am I? So you’ve never wished anyone dead.’ I shook my head. ‘You can try telling me that, but you’d be lying. Did you know that studies have shown there are an alarming number of similarities between psychopaths and teenagers? Psychologically speaking they’re almost identical.’
‘So what?’
‘So you were a football star in college. Back then you would have been pumped so full of testosterone your brain would have temporarily shut down for a few years. You wouldn’t have been able to help it. Now add in the fact that you were a teenage psychopath, and it would be nothing short of a miracle if you hadn’t wished someone dead. Probably more than one someone.’
A faint blush rose up in Taylor’s cheeks, a hint of red against a dark background.
‘I don’t want details. I just want you to admit I’m right.’
‘You’re wrong. What about Gandhi, or Mother Teresa? Are you telling me that they had a dark side, too? That they went around wishing people dead?’
‘Interesting you should choose two people who aren’t alive to defend themselves,
‘And he’s got a very good reason. Gasoline is horrible stuff to work with. The smell sticks to your clothing, your hair, your skin, and once that smell is on you, it’s difficult to get rid of it. Then there’s the smell of burning to take into account. That sticks to you, too. Have you ever sat around a camp fire? You’re still smelling the wood smoke days later. Fire is a stupid way to kill someone. You might as well stick a neon sign above your head advertising the fact that you’re the killer.’
‘But our unsub isn’t stupid. That’s why he gets someone else to torch the victims. He’s aware of the sort of evidence that forensics look for when dealing with arsonists.’
‘Go on,’ I encouraged. ‘You’re almost there. Take that final step. If it helps, the answer is in your earlier question. Why do I need to know if I can trust you?’
Taylor opened his mouth to tell me he didn’t have a clue what I was talking about. Nothing came out. His eyes widened with realisation.
‘Jesus. You think the unsub’s a cop.’
12
‘There’s no way this guy’s a cop, Winter. Absolutely no way. I work with these people day in, day out. If one of them was a murderer, I’d know.’
I walked over to the window and parted the drapes with one finger. There were a couple of early birds walking along Morrow Street, just in time for Happy Hour. These were your hardened drinkers, lonely lost souls who wouldn’t let something like a murder get between them and a bottle. The sun was a ferocious ball of yellow that was closing in on the horizon but it still had a way to go. I let the drape flutter down.
‘No, you wouldn’t know. For eleven years I lived with one of this country’s most notorious serial killers and I didn’t suspect a thing. My mother was with him for seventeen years. We’re talking almost two decades. For thirteen of those years they were married. They shared a bed, shared a life together, and she didn’t suspect anything. My father lived in the same small town all his life, one not much different from Eagle Creek, except it was on the other side of the country in California. Some of his friends went way back to his school days, and they didn’t suspect anything, either.’
‘You were just a kid. It’s no wonder you didn’t suspect anything. Nobody would have expected you to.’
‘And you’re missing the point. We all have multiple personalities. The average is three, but some people have more. There’s the face you wear for your friends and family, the one you let the outside world see. Then there’s the face you see every time you look in the mirror. Everyone has a dark side. We all have thoughts and feelings we’d rather not share. We’ve all lain wide awake in the dead of night and wished someone dead.’
‘You’re wrong.’
‘Am I? So you’ve never wished anyone dead.’ I shook my head. ‘You can try telling me that, but you’d be lying. Did you know that studies have shown there are an alarming number of similarities between psychopaths and teenagers? Psychologically speaking they’re almost identical.’
‘So what?’
‘So you were a football star in college. Back then you would have been pumped so full of testosterone your brain would have temporarily shut down for a few years. You wouldn’t have been able to help it. Now add in the fact that you were a teenage psychopath, and it would be nothing short of a miracle if you hadn’t wished someone dead. Probably more than one someone.’
A faint blush rose up in Taylor’s cheeks, a hint of red against a dark background.
‘I don’t want details. I just want you to admit I’m right.’
‘You’re wrong. What about Gandhi, or Mother Teresa? Are you telling me that they had a dark side, too? That they went around wishing people dead?’
‘Interesting you should choose two people who aren’t alive to defend themselves,
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