Naked in Death (In Death #1)(65)

Oh God, what was she going to do if he wasn’t where he said he’d be?

The blue screen contracted into a pinpoint, then opened up. There was Roarke, a trace of impatience in his eyes, a half smile on his mouth.

“Lieutenant. You’ve caught me at a bad time. Can I get back to you?”

“No.” She could see from the comer of her eye that Feeney was already tracing the transmission. “I need to verify your whereabouts.”

“My whereabouts?” His brow cocked. He must have seen something in her face, though Eve would have sworn she kept it as smooth and unreadable as stone. “What’s wrong, Eve? What’s happened?”

“Your whereabouts, Roarke. Please verify.”

He remained silent, studying her. Eve heard someone speak to him. He flicked away the interruption with a dismissing gesture. “I’m in the middle of a meeting in the presidential chamber of Station FreeStar, the location of which is Quadrant Six, Slip Alpha. Scan,” he ordered, and the intergalactic ‘link circled the room. A dozen men and women sat at a wide, circular table.

The long, bowed port showed a scatter of stars and the perfect blue-green globe of Earth.

“Location of transmission confirmed,” Feeney said in an undertone. “He’s just where he says he is.”

“Roarke, please switch to privacy mode.”

Without a flicker of expression, he lifted a headset. “Yes, lieutenant?”

“A weapon registered to you was confiscated at a homicide. I have to ask you to come in for questioning at the first possible opportunity. You’re free to bring your attorney. I’m advising you to bring your attorney,” she added, hoping he understood the emphasis. “If you don’t comply within forty-eight hours, the Station Guard will escort you back on-planet. Do you understand your rights and obligations in this matter?”

“Certainly. I’ll make arrangements. Good-bye, lieutenant.”

The screen went blank.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

More shaken than she cared to admit, Eve entered Dr. Mira’s office the following morning. At Mira’s invitation, she took a seat, folded her hands to keep them from any telltale restless movements.

“Have you had time to profile?”

“You requested urgent status.” Indeed, Mira had been up most of the night, reading reports, using her training and her psych diagnostics to compose a profile. “I’d like more time to work on this, but I can give you an overall view.”

“Okay.” Eve leaned forward. “What is he?”

“He is almost certainly correct. Traditionally, crimes of this nature are not committed within the same sex. He’s a man, above average intelligence, with sociopathic and voyeuristic tendencies. He’s bold, but not a risk taker, though he probably sees himself as such.”

In her graceful way, she linked her fingers together, crossed her legs. “His crimes are well thought out. Whether or not he has sex with his victims is incidental. His pleasure and satisfaction comes from the selection, the preparation, and the execution.”

“Why prostitutes?”

“Control. Sex is control. Death is control. And he needs to control people, situations. The first murder was probably impulse.”

“Why?”

“He was caught off guard by the violence, his own capability of violence. He had a reaction, a jerk of a movement, the indrawn breath, the shaky exhale. He recovered, systematically protected himself. He doesn’t want to be caught, but he wants — needs to be admired, feared. Hence the recordings.

“He uses collector’s weapons,” she continued in that same moderate voice, “a status symbol of money. Again, power and control. He leaves them behind so that they can show he’s unique among men. He appreciates the overt violence of guns and the impersonal aspect of them. The kill from a comfortable distance, the aloofness of that. He’s decided on the number he’ll kill to show that he’s organized, precise. Ambitious.”

“Could he have had the six women in mind from the beginning? Six targets?”

“The only verified connection between the three victims is their profession,” Mira began, and saw that Eve had already reached the same conclusion, but wanted it confirmed. “He had the profession in mind. It would be my opinion the women are incidental. It’s likely he holds a high-level position, certainly a responsible one. If he has a sexual or marriage partner, he or she is subservient. His opinion of women is low. He debases and humiliates them after death to show his disgust and his superiority. He doesn’t perceive these as crimes but as moments of personal power, personal statement.

“The prostitute, male or female, remains a profession of low esteem in many minds. Women are not his equals; a prostitute is beneath his contempt, even when he uses her for his own release. He enjoys his work, lieutenant. He enjoys it very much.”

“Is it work, doctor, or a mission?”

“He has no mission. Only ambitions. It isn’t religion, not a moral statement, not a societal stance.”

“No, the statement’s personal, the stance is control.”

“I would agree,” Mira said, pleased with the straightforward workings of Eve’s mind. “It is, to him, an interest, a new and somewhat fascinating hobby that he has discovered himself adept at. He’s dangerous, lieutenant, not simply because he has no conscience, but because he’s good at what he does. And his success feeds him.”