A Killer's Mind (Zoe Bentley Mystery #1)(86)
“Come on! Sure, they change it a bit, try new things, but nothing so radical.”
“All the killings had something to do with water—”
“No, they didn’t,” Tatum said. “Glover’s victims were in the water. The Chicago killer posed the victims near water. And Veronika Murray, the earliest victim of the embalming serial killer, wasn’t close to water when they found her.”
“Maybe I was wrong about her. She hadn’t been embalmed.”
“You weren’t wrong. This killer doesn’t care about water. He picked those locations because they were abandoned at night and because they fit the poses he gave the bodies.”
“I’m right,” she said. “Rod Glover is the killer of all these women.”
“Look at your initial profile.” Tatum tapped the paper violently with his finger. “Remember this? Methodic? Obsession for control? Does this really fit your Maynard serial killer, who simply grabbed women who were wandering around in a remote location, raped them brutally, killed them, and left them in the same location?”
She stared at him angrily, and he looked back at her, challenging. Neither averted their gazes.
“Here’s what I think,” he finally said. “Rod Glover probably did kill those two women back in 2008. Hell, he admitted to killing one of them, with no prompting from you, right? But other than that, he’s messing with your head. He went to all those sites to leave those envelopes for you after seeing you in the news. He decided to follow you around, maybe hoping to get you in some alley. And to his delight, you went straight to one of his favorite locations, where he had already killed Pamela Vance. This guy who is killing women and embalming them . . . I think he’s someone else.”
“You’re wrong,” Zoe said.
“Why?”
“Because my gut says you are,” she said sharply. “Yeah, sure. I’m good at what I do. But it’s not all experience and deduction. It has a lot to do with instincts, and my instincts say it was Glover.”
“And I’m telling you that your instincts can’t be trusted when it comes to that psycho. He’s got an obsession with you—there’s no doubt about it. But you know what, Zoe? You’re just as obsessed about him.”
“Go to hell.”
He looked at her, saying nothing. There was nothing but fury in her eyes, the anger underscored by the blue bruise that circled one of them.
Finally, he sighed. “It’s late,” he said. “Get some rest, okay?”
She hardly moved as he got up to leave. He opened the front door and took a final look at her. Then he walked out and closed the door behind him.
CHAPTER 58
The idea popped into his mind as he was driving past another corner. A row of dead, empty eyes followed his car as he slowed down, voices calling out to him, offering unattractive short pastimes for little money. He no longer saw the potential in any of those women. He now knew them for what they were: conniving, lying bitches, ready to stab him in the back as soon as he looked away.
His foot pressed the gas pedal, and he drove away, gritting his teeth in anger. They didn’t deserve his treatment, his eternal offer, his affection.
He needed something else.
He parked his car near a club. A line of teenagers stood outside, waiting to be let in. He stared at the young girls. Was this what he needed? Had his problem been the women’s age? After all, these young girls were still innocent. Some had probably never been with a man before. He gripped the wheel tightly, looking at one of the girls. No visible tattoos, barely any makeup compared to her friends, her skin smooth.
He had already begun concocting a plan. He would wait outside until they left the club and follow her from afar. Either he’d get an opportunity to grab her tonight, or he’d find out where she lived.
And if not her, there were others. Thousands and thousands of innocent young girls who were only looking for a grown man to—
Her friend pointed straight at him, and she turned to look. Their eyes locked, and after a second, he gave her a bashful smile.
She flipped him the finger, her face twisted in contempt. Panicking, he quickly hit the gas pedal, lurching into the traffic. A car honked at him and swerved to avoid collision. His heart thrummed in his chest.
Innocent. Right. Damn whores.
Maybe there wasn’t such a thing as real love. Maybe he had been wrong. Woman after woman, they had all disappointed him. Perhaps he should just take them for one night or two, silence them, and enjoy their company before the smell became a problem.
The idea was attractive, but he fought it. He was better than this. He wasn’t one of those sad, empty people, swiping left and right on their dating apps, looking for a one-night release.
He was searching for something real. Something that would fill the void, dispel the loneliness.
It was then that it came to him. He was thinking about it all wrong. He was looking for a woman to be his companion for years to come. But a woman couldn’t really be enough. After watching all these happy couples on television and in real life, he should have figured it out long before.
A woman was just another lonely soul, like him. Two lonely people couldn’t fill the void for each other. Such a relationship was bound to end in disappointment.
What he really needed was a family.