“Good skill to have.” Kendra looked at the one remaining person, an impossibly youthful man with tortoise-shell spectacles and thick brown hair. “And why is the junior high kid here?”
Metcalf smiled. “That’s Trey Suber. He’s with the FDLE. Florida Department of Law Enforcement. He’s young, but by all accounts, he’s one of the best criminal profilers in the world. He’s a total serial killer geek. He knows serial killers the way hardcore baseball fans know player stats.”
“Or the way you know Star Wars trivia?”
“Better. He probably knows details about your own cases that you’ve forgotten long ago.”
“Impressive … and a little creepy.”
“Sometimes impressive and creepy is exactly what we need around here.”
She could see what he meant. There was no one more creepy than Zachary, and someday they might have to fight fire with fire … or ice with ice. “Agreed.”
Griffin had spotted Kendra and Metcalf and was waving them over. Metcalf turned to her. “Ready for this?”
She braced herself. “Absolutely. Time to meet the dream team.”
They walked toward the assembled group. Griffin motioned toward Kendra. “Gentlemen, Kendra Michaels. Some of you are familiar with her work as I suspect she may be of yours.”
Griffin made the introductions. As Kendra spoke with each of the men, she was amazed at how spot-on-the-money Metcalf’s impressions had been.
NYC FBI Agent Richard Gale was every bit as unpleasant as his reputation suggested. His salt and pepper hair was slicked back, and his face was carved by deep creases in his forehead. He wordlessly shook her hand, barely making eye contact as his attention went to an attractive young assistant on the other side of the room.
“Pleasure to meet you,” Kendra said.
“Uh huh,” he grunted, “I might have to talk to you later.” He turned and walked away.
Definitely not a people person.
But Washington, D.C., homicide detective Arnold Huston had people skills in spades. He was probably one of the oldest cops she’d ever met, close to seventy, with a warm handshake, twinkling eyes, and a deep, mellifluous voice. “How’s your friend today?” he asked. “Is there anything we can do for her?”
“She’s fine. Olivia’s a strong person.”
“She must be. Look, I know we’re each presenting on our cases this morning, but if there’s anything I can tell you about my experiences in Virginia with this guy, I’m available. Any time. Don’t hesitate to call, okay?”
“Thanks. I appreciate the offer.” She could see why he was so good in witness interviews.
LAPD detective Edward Roscoe also shook her hand. “Call me Eddie,” he said. “We’re practically neighbors. Funny we haven’t run into each other. Of course, this is more of a sideline to you, isn’t it?”
His laid-back charm made it easy to see why Matthew McConaughey had been tapped to play him even though they really didn’t look much alike.
“A sideline,” Kendra repeated. “You might call it that.”
“But I’ve heard about you. I’m almost afraid to ask … But how much do you know about me?”
“Just the little bit that Metcalf told me. I never saw the movie if that’s what you mean.”
“That’s not what I mean. The movie got almost everything wrong. I’m talking about that thing you do.”
Uh oh. He’d obviously heard about her parlor tricks.
She smiled. “I know everything about you that I think I need to know.”
“Are you gonna let me in on it?”
“Maybe later.”
“It could be the stories about you aren’t true,” he said speculatively.
“Maybe not. Guess you’ll have to stick around and find out for yourself.”
He leaned close and flashed a sly smile. “Guess I will.”
Hmm. Metcalf hadn’t told her that he was such an accomplished flirt.
FDLE profiler Trey Suber looked older than he had from across the room, but not much. He was probably twenty-three or twenty-four, but he still could have passed for a high school kid. He dispensed with the pleasantries in order to ask about what really interested him. “Dr. Michaels, I’d really like to talk to you about Eric Colby. Would that be possible?”
Hearing that name aloud literally gave her chills even after all the time that had passed. “I’m surprised you— I don’t see how that has any bearing on this case.”
“No, of course not. It’s just that there hasn’t been a lot written on Colby yet, and first-hand information is hard to come by.” Suber pushed up his glasses. “You knew him better than anyone. He was one of the most notorious serial killers of the last decade and you beat him twice.”
Serial killer geek, indeed.
“Sure, we’ll talk.” But not anytime soon, she mentally qualified. One monster at a time.
He smiled and raised his right hand as if to give her a high-five. She patted his arm instead and pointed to Griffin, who was motioning for all of the investigators to take their seats at the front of the room.
Within a minute the presentations began, accompanied by larger-than-life PowerPoint slides. One by one, the investigators took them on a graphic tour of some of the most brutal and depressing murders she’d ever seen, all apparently the work of one sick man.
Four and a half hours later, she felt drained of body and spirit. In addition to her sheer revulsion, she was most struck by the difference between the cases. No wonder they hadn’t been linked until now. The placement and character of knife wounds were similar in the stabbing cases, but there were almost no other similarities.
After the last presentation Griffin called a break and said the session would resume with individual discussions in the war room. That probably meant she’d be subject to questions and not-so-subtle examinations from the other investigators.
And she’d be surrounded by all those hideous photos.
Kendra stood up and hurried from the room. She couldn’t take it right now. It would be like having Zachary gazing mockingly down at her, laughing as he had on Olivia’s computer. She’d thought she was only going to the bathroom, but she realized that wasn’t far enough away. She had to get the hell out of that building for a while. Just a couple hours and she’d come back and finish the day.
Just a couple hours to brace herself for more horror.
She took the elevator down to the garage, where she climbed into her car, started it up, and roared away.
But she only got four blocks before she pulled over to the curb. She sat there for a moment staring blindly out the window. She was running away like a panic-stricken child, she thought, shocked. And with the self-contempt that realization brought came the anger and the determination.
You’re not going to win, Zachary. Not one hour, not one minute. I can take anything you throw at me.
She turned the car around and started to drive back toward the FBI office.
*
IT WAS 9:30 P.M. BEFORE Kendra arrived back at her condo. The phone rang five minutes after she let herself inside.
Olivia.