At First Light(Dr. Evan Wilding #1)(99)

“Southeast. Heading toward Canterbury.”

It took only a moment for the two maps to merge in Evan’s mind. If his theory was correct and if his map-reading skills were halfway decent—which they were—then there was a solid correlation between the construction firm’s site in England and his own beloved woods where he took Ginny hunting.

So why hadn’t Diana listed this site on the map she gave him? Most likely she’d been working from a pre-1990s map.

“You’ve gone quiet again,” River said.

“Thinking.” He picked up his pen and drew a quick sketch of the woods in his journal, adding it to the list of sites he’d noted earlier. He labeled it WASHPK, SOUTH END, LAGOON. “This is helpful, River. Thank you. I believe I’m just missing one or two key pieces of information.”

“Which are?”

“I’m not entirely sure.”

“Then I wish I had more to offer.”

They chatted a moment longer before disconnecting. Evan stared up at the shadowed ceiling, thinking about ill-fated archaeological digs.

He turned to his computer. He searched for information about Rhinehart’s kids and the dead assistant. It was easy enough to locate people with the surname Rhinehart living in the UK and in the States. There was even a handful in Chicago. Some of the listings included relatives, but none with the name of Ralph Rhinehart. Deeper digging would require skills he didn’t possess along with access to databases beyond his reach.

He stared at the ceiling again.

What if Blakesley was Rhinehart’s son? The stepchild with a different surname?

Back to the computer. But he couldn’t find anything that linked the two men. Rhinehart hadn’t made mention of his personal life on his website. And as for Blakesley, there was almost no information. Most police didn’t have social media profiles and tended to be publicity shy, for understandable reasons. He found a two-year-old article about the cop’s heroic actions stopping a would-be carjacker. But nothing else.

He also looked for a connection between Raven and Blakesley. Or Raven and Rhinehart. Another strikeout. He might be a decent scholar. But he was also, he feared, something of a Luddite.

He picked up his tea mug. Empty. He set it back down.

He was close. He could sense the answer buried somewhere in everything he’d learned and studied since he’d stood next to Talfour’s body and considered the eeriness of death amid the water and reeds and mist. What was it in the human heart that—over the centuries—continually linked the sacred and the violent? The same part that worshipped gods as superior beings but also believed that honoring them required the blood sacrifice of animals and people.

At some point in the killer’s life, violence and sacrifice had become so intertwined in the killer’s mind that they could no longer be unwoven.

Once again, Evan opened Heaney’s translation of Beowulf.

Fate goes ever as it must.

After a moment, he returned the book to the stack. If he was playing the role of the hunter, it was a good thing no one was waiting dinner on him.

He stood. He needed to give his brain time to chew on things. Plus, it was way past time for him to feed Ginny.

He called Addie on the landline and left a message expressing his concerns regarding Officer Blakesley. Then he casually mentioned that he was heading home. When she learned he’d violated her wishes, she’d be livid. But he’d find a way to make it up to her. Maybe with tickets to Hamilton. And if Blakesley was their killer, she’d have no choice but to forgive him.

Next, he dialed the campus police and let them know he was ready to head out. They agreed to meet him near the main doors.

He tucked the gun in his coat pocket, picked up his satchel, then flipped off the desk lamp and made his way to the door through the semidarkness, his path lit by the university lights shining through the windows.

He lifted his coat from the hook and opened the door.

In the hall—hands clenched, breathing hard—stood Tommy Snow.





THREE





Excerpt from Criminal Behavioral Analysis: The Viking Poet

Semiotician: Evan Wilding, PhD, SSA, IASS

The fantasy the killer is fulfilling—given its complexity—likely began in childhood. A child who is troubled or traumatized will look outside himself for an acceptable narrative. He (or she) will turn to the stories of others in order to give meaning and shape to his own life.

The narrative chosen by the Viking Poet is the epic saga Beowulf. He casts himself as a tragic hero who does not intend to survive his own narrative. Just as the hero Beowulf was slain by the dragon at the end of his story, so, too, does our killer intend to die in battle after he has murdered the monsters of this world—five monsters, according to his poem.

We know that the killer has a safe place in which to hold and torture his victims. Bearing in mind the Beowulf narrative, this is likely an underground area near water, similar to the lair of the monster Grendel.

Of interest, too, given the killer’s knowledge of OE poetry: the folktales and poems of Northern Europe often center on a search for someone’s secret name. We know that the Viking Poet embedded the name of at least one of his victims in his poetry. Likewise, I suspect a clue to his own identity will also be found there.





THE VIKING POET