“Behavioral Science Unit of the FBI,” Kayla says. “They deal with serial killers.”
“They try to deal with serial killers,” Charley says.
“What does that mean?” Luke asks.
“It means two agents from BSU probably flew to LA on the taxpayer’s dime and spent a few days in their hotel rooms using trendy pop psychology to write some superficial ‘profile’”—she mimes air quotes—“based on a shallow reading of the crime scenes. Now the local cops are leaning on that profile instead of doing their jobs, which is actually investigating the evidence they have. In the process, they’ll eliminate way too many potential suspects so they can trim their workload and the ‘profile’”—she fires off another set of air quotes—“will give them permission to do it.”
“That’s a lot of air quotes there, Trigger,” Marty says.
“And a pretty rash dismissal of an esteemed unit of the FBI,” Luke says.
“Really?” Charley asks. “You’re going to start defending the FBI?”
“Look, I get it. You’re mad at me for telling them you want to—”
“No, I’m sick of people getting tingly over BSU because of Clarice Starling, OK? Have any of you ever read the FBI profile of the Bannings? A crystal ball would have been more help.”
“I heard they used those, too,” Kayla says.
“Charley,” Luke says, “FBI profiling is a very valid—”
“The profile ruled out all women, for Christ’s sake. It was a female serial killer.”
“To be fair, she was working in conjunction with a male sexual predator, who connected up with many of the points made in the profile,” Luke says.
“And he wasn’t committing the murders. She was. And by ruling out all women, the profile blinded the local cops to something they should have seen before.”
“Which was what?” Kayla asks.
“There were no signs of struggle at most of the abduction sites because the victims, mostly women traveling alone, trusted their abductor. More than they would have trusted any lone man traveling on a back road or hiking through the woods. And they trusted him because he had a woman with him. If the profile had been right, and Daniel Banning, or some sick freak just like him, was acting alone, there’s a chance my mother never would have rolled down her car window so fast.”
“You don’t know that, Charley,” Marty says. “Come on. She had a flat tire in the middle of nowhere, and she was with a baby. She needed any help she could get.”
“And what about the two girls they beat in their motel room?” Kayla asks.
“Yeah, you mean the ones who didn’t think twice about telling the Bannings which cabin they were staying in because a woman was asking?”
Luke thinks Charley might be fighting tears, but he can’t tell. She’s like a different person now, and it’s been that way ever since she showed him what she could do. Surly and embarrassed, as if he’s seen her naked and she didn’t want him to.
She didn’t want you to see what she could do, genius. You forced her to show you when you tried to call Mona.
“The Bannings were an exceptional case,” he says. “By any standards.”
“So’s the Mask Maker,” Charley says. “And I don’t need an FBI profile to find him.”
“Well, good, because I think it’s the best Bailey’s gonna be able to do. That and the case files from LAPD.”
“Fine,” she says.
Luke knows he should take a breath. Maybe a few. At his house. With a beer. But instead he hears himself say, “What do you mean, fine? I mean, what does that even mean here?” He sounds like he used to when he was eight years old and his mother told him he couldn’t have a third Coca-Cola.
Only when he sees the way everyone’s staring at him does he realize he’s shot to his feet.
“Yes, Luke. Fine. If that’s all Bailey can get, I will find the guy on my own. Alone, if I have to.”
“And then what?” Marty asks. “You gonna burst through the walls of his house like the Kool-Aid Man, or Kool-Aid Girl, or whatever?”
Kayla says, “Shut up, Marty.”
“It’s a good question,” Luke says.
“I don’t disagree,” Kayla responds.
“She just likes telling me to shut up,” Marty says.
“The answer’s no,” Charley says. “I am not going to burst through his walls like the Kool-Aid Man.”
“What are you going to do?” Luke asks.
“I’m going to make sure he never kills again.”
“How?” Luke says with such anger in his voice it makes something wild dance in Charley’s eyes.
So she has a plan, he realizes. She’s not flying blind, with desperation as her driving wind. She knows exactly what she wants to do; she doesn’t think he can handle it.
“Oh my God,” Kayla says softly. “You’re gonna do it just like the bar, aren’t you? You’re gonna bait the guy. You’re gonna try to get him to take you, just like one of his victims.”
Charley’s answer is in her silence.
“You’re out of your fucking mind,” Luke says.
“And you’re free to go at any time.”
“Oh yeah? Now that you’ve got my brother working for you.”
“Give me a break. He agreed to help me because he wanted to. You didn’t talk him into anything.”
“And you could be sending him after these people, not using him to work with them.”
“I am not working with these people. And if you really think your brother, by himself, is going to be able to take on a corporation the size of Graydon Pharmaceuticals and whoever they can afford to hire, you’re the crazy one.”
She gets to her feet and moves into the tiny kitchen. Marty steps out of her way, riveted, it seems, by the confrontation building before him.
“This is just crazy, and desperate. You’ve got no idea what you’re doing or why you’re doing it.”
“Oh, really? I thought you knew exactly what I was doing. I’m out to prove to the world I’m not a serial killer. Still! Wasn’t that what you said back at the library?”
“That’s not what I—”
“It is what you said. It’s exactly what you said. And if you didn’t mean it, maybe you’re the desperate one right now. What happened to the guy who wanted to help me no matter what?”
“He’s still trying.”
“Oh, bullshit. You’re freaking out because you can’t handle what I can do. I never should have told you or shown you any of it.”
“You’re not doing anything, Charlotte. The drug is doing it. Dylan’s drug is doing it. And you’re choosing to take it again for reasons that are certifiably insane. Am I the only who feels the need to weigh in here?”
“Weighing in is what we’re calling this?” Kayla asks.
“All right, fine, so it’s gonna be all about my tone then! Or how I’m not saying it in the right way.”
Charley answers by turning her back on him and opening the refrigerator door. Is she actually looking for something inside or is it just an act?
“So tell me, Charley. Trina. Whatever it is. Tell me why you’re going after the Mask Maker.”
She slams the refrigerator door shut with enough force to shake the trailer. Luke can feel the pulse of terror that moves through all three of them, the fear that maybe the drug isn’t out of her system, or maybe this is some new episode. Charley either doesn’t notice or she doesn’t care.
“Because I want to. That’s why. Because if these people are going to force me to be their guinea pig, then by God, I’m going to use what they’ve given me the way I want. I’m gonna find the man who did that to those women, and I’m gonna look right into his eyes when he realizes that I am the end of him. And I will not spend another second justifying that to some prick who’s on an apology tour because his life has hit the skids and he’s just now realizing he’s too big of an asshole to make any friends.”
Marty winces.
Kayla swallows.