Kendra looked at more of the boards as the group followed close behind. “He’s gone all these years without getting caught or anyone realizing that these were all the work of a single killer,” she whispered. “Why did he choose this moment, this city to tie them all together?”
Griffin shrugged. “We have our best profilers working on that question right now. But frankly, I doubt they have much to compare this to. They don’t have anyone who’s ever performed in this way before.”
“Performed,” Kendra repeated the word numbly. “Yes, that’s what he’s done all these years. He’s set the stages and chosen the actors and then made himself both star and director. But maybe he’s getting bored with no audience to applaud him or maybe he wants a grand finale.”
“But that still doesn’t answer the question ‘why here?’” Griffin said. “He’s very calculating. He has to have a plan.”
“Yes, he has a plan. He chose this place for a reason.” She was looking at the photo of Amanda Robinson. “Two victims. Two sets of trophies. Two clues that would link him to other cities, other revelations. It seems he’s trying to tell us what it is.” She moistened her lips. “No, he’s tossing it in our faces.”
“Conjecture, Kendra,” Griffin said.
Kendra realized that was true, but it still felt right. Those photos on the bulletin boards were whirling around her. Burned, scorched victims, stabbed, sliced, bodies like Todd’s, one old lady who had been tied and run over by a truck in her own driveway. So much evil, so many victims … And it had gone on for more than a decade.
She tried to shake off the images. “Have you been in touch with the investigators in each of these other cases?”
“Yes,” Griffin said. “All except the D.C. detective, and I have a call into his department. I’m looping all of them into our investigation and some or all may join us here to assist.”
Metcalf clicked his tongue. “And we’re going to have to babysit a bunch of local cops while we try to catch this guy?”
“Adjust your attitude,” Griffin said curtly. “These people know our killer better than anyone. There probably hasn’t been a day in the past few years that they haven’t thought of their cases and tossed every detail around in their heads. Whether they’re here or not, they’ll be a good resource for you.”
Metcalf nodded, but Kendra wasn’t sure if he was convinced. She turned to Griffin. “He obviously believes he can’t be caught, that he’s too clever. Your profilers would recognize that brand of arrogance. They just haven’t run across it in this quantity before. You might throw that possibility at them.”
“I already have,” Griffin said bluntly. “It took a great deal of arrogance to stay in that closet taking photos with a victim bleeding out while that young woman was strolling from room to room.” He paused. “Arrogance or madness.”
“Or both,” Metcalf said.
Griffin nodded. “I never said that wasn’t possible. Aren’t most serial killers designated by society as insane? It just depends on how the courts look at them.”
Metcalf was looking at the Connecticut murder photos. “I think the prosecutors in these particular cities will fight very hard to get him the death penalty and not a cushy mental hospital.” He glanced at Gina. “What do you think?”
“I think we’d better concentrate on catching him and not worry about extradition,” she said dryly. “I’ve been doing my part while you’ve been narrowing your vision down to that one cold case in Oxnard. Don’t you think you should start going through all these cases I’ve given you to work on?”
“Ouch,” Metcalf murmured. He was suddenly grinning. “Point taken.” He turned to Griffin. “Should I take your orders or hers, sir?”
“It better be mine, if you want to keep your job.” He glanced at Gina. “But she did okay when you two left me in the lurch here with all these cases to work. It’s good to know that I have a replacement available. Get busy.” He turned to Kendra. “And you could make yourself valuable as well, but I don’t suppose you want to volunteer for overnight duty.” He scowled. “Even though you started all this.”
“I believe it was the murder case you tried to involve me in that started all this,” Kendra said. “And, no, I have no intention of staying here and being just one more pair of hands to put out the fires. I’m going home and get a good night’s sleep. And then I’ll see how I can schedule my sessions for tomorrow to give me enough time to go over the case files Metcalf and Gina are going to send to my printer tonight.” She turned to Gina. “Don’t email them to me. Send them directly to my printer. I want paper I can hold and compare. Okay? Every city. Every victim.”
She nodded. “You’ve got it. Does Metcalf have your printer’s IP address?”
“Yes, I do,” Metcalf said. “Is this discrimination, Kendra? I’m the good guy, remember?”
“I remember,” she said. “But Gina’s becoming Wonder Woman. So adjust and conquer or have her drag you behind her chariot wheels.”
He flinched. “Now that hurt.”
“You’d be more use if you’d hit the phones with me,” Griffin said. “I have to start talking to police captains in all these cities and making explanations and begging records and info.”
“But I don’t want to be of use to you,” Kendra said. “At least not in that way. That’s not why you pulled me into this case.” She turned back toward the elevator. “I’m afraid we’re all going to be dealing with it very soon. But I’ll handle it in my own way and not yours, Griffin.” She got on the elevator and pressed the button. “Get me those case histories right away, Gina.”
“No problem,” Metcalf said quickly. “They’ll be at your place before you know it.”
“Thanks.” As the door closed, she leaned back and took a deep breath. She felt smothered, sick, her chest tight.
All those victims.
The blood.
The scorched skin.
The pain.
The death.
The memory of that first killing was with her now, she could almost smell that burned flesh again.
She had barely managed to hold herself together before she could escape that FBI war room. The monumental numbers and scope of those deaths had stunned her. Serial killers were not new to her, but this one was different …
They were all different, she told herself. She was being foolish.
But there had been a kind of frightening intimacy about the way she had felt about these murders. It was as if she had been standing next to Todd Wesley when his life had been taken. And her urgency to find this monster was unusual. She had even mentioned it to Lynch …
Instinct?
Had she felt driven because somewhere deep inside she had felt how truly deadly, what a complete threat he was, to everyone around him?
Twenty-six cases. Perhaps more.
He had been touring, skipping around the country, pausing wherever it pleased him, and then killing again and again. He’d reached out and a young man died. He’d reached out and a girl was made into a human torch.