Verraday saw some skeptical looks from some of the business students who were taking his course as an elective, probably having thought that finding out about serial killers would make a pleasant diversion from calculating gross domestic product and the yields on convertible debentures. They could give him all the skeptical looks they wanted, thought Verraday. But in a few years, most of those business students would be out in the corporate world. And the odds were extremely good that all those people smiling at him dubiously from the back rows would at some point become victims of a psychopath: a coworker who would take credit for their best ideas while simultaneously sabotaging them behind their back; a boss who would make them work twelve hours a day for years, control even their minutest decisions, then when something went wrong, blame them for incompetence and have them escorted out the front door by security. Ideally after screwing them out of a pension.
“I’m serious,” Verraday continued. “Psychopaths are believed to represent only one percent of the general population. But some studies suggest that as many as one in ten CEOs are psychopaths. Do the math. That’s where it’s an evolutionary advantage: in a corrupt system that values profits over human welfare. But a serial killer? Sorry, no evolutionary advantage to murdering your fellow human beings then becoming the target of society’s retribution. So to get back to your original question, just because someone is a psychopathic killer, it does not mean they’re smart like Hannibal Lecter and can talk somebody into biting their own tongue off. It is entirely the invention of fiction writers, though I can certainly understand the appeal. There are times I wish I knew how to talk people into biting their tongues off.”
There were titters of laughter in the lecture hall. Verraday felt a pang of guilt over his not-particularly-subtle put-down of Koller but decided it was worth it. A bit of applied psychology and tough love was exactly what this kid needed.
“Now, if we can move along, I’ve still got a lot of material to cover today. Mr. Koller, if you’d like to discuss this further, you’re welcome to come see me in my office during the scheduled time, between nine and ten AM Thursdays.”
Koller looked pissed off, but settled in and didn’t ask any more questions for the rest of the lecture. Ninety minutes later, Verraday was happy to hear the rustling of backpacks and paper and the tearing of Velcro that indicated the end of today’s class.
CHAPTER 17
Verraday’s agitated mood began to return when he got home. He was still chafing from Maclean’s rejection of his help. But he decided that sharing the information about Destiny with Maclean was the right thing to do anyway, even if she was too damned bullheaded to do anything useful with it. He grabbed his cell and typed in the contact information along with a terse message: “In case you care, the other girl in the photo with Rachel is named Destiny. This is where you can reach her.” Then he hit send. That was it. He was done with Maclean and the investigation now. He had fulfilled his obligation, done as much as he could for the cause of justice.
He resolved to get a head start on the midterm exam, on the off chance that he decided he wouldn’t feel completely foolish going to the steampunk convention that weekend with Penny. So he poured himself a glass of wine, turned on the gas fireplace, and sat down on the sofa with the coursework and his laptop, determined to write some new questions this year. He spent the next hour wading through various scholarly papers and writing, and, satisfied that he’d now come up with the beginnings of something that was not only fresh but also genuinely useful to his students, he put his work away and retired upstairs to the den to check his e-mail.
Most of the messages were questions about the midterm. Predictably, there was one from Koller, continuing to argue the point about psychopaths being more intelligent than the average person and including a link to a dubious pop psychology website that reinforced his belief.
Then there was an e-mail from Jensen, the mousy, nondescript girl.
“Dear Professor Verraday, I have a question about the course material. I’m still not entirely clear on the difference between modus operandi and signature in serial killers. The material from the FBI suggests that a criminal usually has a ‘signature’ that identifies them. But couldn’t a repeat offender confuse investigators by intentionally changing their signature?”
“That’s an interesting question,” Verraday replied, “To a logical mind, that seems like the obvious thing to do. But the short answer is, killers with a signature behavior do what they do because it’s what gratifies them. A strangler would feel cheated if he had to shoot someone. Interviews with convicted killers have confirmed this. It’s analogous to the way certain people always have coffee after dinner, while someone else might prefer tea, and a third person would choose brandy instead. They all eat dinner, but their rituals around it are different. And while they savor their own rituals, they would find each other’s rituals unsatisfying. I’m glad that you raised this issue, and I will bring it up in the next class.”