Catch Me (Detective D.D. Warren, #6)(59)

“Agreed.”

“Male or female?”

“Statistics would argue male. Lack of sexual assault, however, complicates the analysis.”

“Gut feel?”

“Can’t get one from the Providence murder. However, factoring in the Atlanta homicide, where the victim was last seen with a woman, I lean toward a female perpetrator. It would explain the willingness of both women to open their doors, even the thorough cleanup afterward. Granted, many serial killers can be meticulous in their ability to sanitize a crime scene, but few think to tend the sofa cushions.”

“Tend the sofa cushions?” D.D. asked.

“They appeared recently fluffed. A distinctly feminine touch.”

“Fluffed? How can you tell that?”

“Can’t, not definitively. But according to Jackie’s neighbor, Ms. Knowles had a tendency to toss the decorative pillows to one side of the love seat and sit on the other. When the police arrived at the scene, however, the accent pillows were perfectly positioned. In fact, the lower cushions and back cushions of the love seat were smoothed out and neatly squared. As one detective observed, it appeared as if no one had ever sat on the furniture. It was fluffed.”

“But Jackie might have done it,” D.D. countered. “You know, tidying up in case she brought up a ‘guest’ that night.”

“True. I’m offering a theory based on supposition, not fact.”

“Well, at least you’re honest,” D.D. informed him.

She thought the profiler might have laughed, but the moment was brief.

“We need to stir the pot,” D.D. said abruptly. “We have two days before January twenty-first. I’ve got Charlene Grant running around Boston, hiding from everyone she knows and currently armed with a twenty-two semiauto—”

“She has a handgun?”

“Legally registered.”

“Won’t help her.”

“Based on supposition or fact?”

“Both. First two victims never fought back. If they didn’t rip off their own fingernails trying to claw away a pair of hands choking them to death, what makes Charlene think she’ll get off a single shot?”

D.D. swallowed hard, not liking that image. “Maybe they did fight back. The perpetrator cleaned up their hands afterward, after fluffing the pillows, of course.”

“Randi had perfectly manicured nails of above average length. Not a single one was broken. What are the odds of that?”

“Tox screen?” D.D. asked.

“Negative for drugs.”

“Could they have been attacked in their sleep?”

“Possible, but lack of oxygen should have bolted them awake, triggering fight or flight. By all accounts, both were capable of fighting.”

“Then how do you explain the lack of self-defense wounds?”

“I can’t.”

D.D. sighed again. “At least you’re honest,” she repeated.

“Sadly, that’s not helping either one of us. Or, on the twenty-first, Charlene Grant. Has there been any contact?” Quincy asked abruptly. “A note to Charlene, anything?”

“No.”

“Unusual,” he commented. “Very, actually, for a repeat offender to duplicate a pattern so precisely. Most killers describe murder as a physical sensation, releasing a chemical in the brain similar to a runner’s high. The first kill is generally impulsive and anxiety-inducing. But after the dust settles, the killer forgets the fear, remembers the buzz, and begins to yearn again. Next kill cycle may take a bit, but over time, the need for the physiological release that accompanies each murder becomes the overriding drive, shortening the kill cycle, leading to more frenzy, less organization, less control. The killer may try to combat the cycle by turning to alcohol and/or drugs as a substitute for the homicidal high, but it rarely works. On the other hand, it does assist law enforcement efforts as the killer begins to disintegrate, making more and more mistakes.”

“Judging by that logic, this killer is still at the infancy of the kill cycle, if he or she can make it a full year between each victim?” D.D. guessed.

“Technically speaking, this killer isn’t yet a serial killer. Takes three. At this point, we have a repeat offender whose pattern is almost technical in nature. More ritualized assassin than serial predator.”

“Maybe because the murderer is a female. She’s not driven by bloodlust, but something else.”

“It’s the something else we need to understand. If we could identify the why, then perhaps that would reveal the who.”

“All right.” D.D. was game. “Why Randi Menke? Why Jackie Knowles? What do they have in common?”

“Both single women living in urban environments. Same age. Both grew up in the White Mountains of New Hampshire, with friends and family in common. More specifically, both were best friends of Charlene Grant.”

“Which Charlene takes to mean that she’s the next victim. Are you as sure of that? Maybe this has something to do with Randi and Jackie. Not Charlie at all.”

“Possible,” Quincy agreed. “With only two murders, we lack enough data points to draw meaningful conclusions. The fact that Randi and Jackie happened to know each other could still be completely random; they knew they knew each other, but the killer did not.”