“He’s gotta know we’d be looking for him there,” Johnson said.
“I don’t think so, Leslie. Even before he went to prison, he kept his sexual orientation close to the vest—under the threat of violence. And his vics weren’t pure homosexual plays. He killed both men and women—which is unusual for homosexual serial killers. Well, for any offenders. They have their victim type and generally don’t deviate unless they have to—but they always go back. That could be what happened here, but I don’t think so.”
Johnson tilted her head in thought. “So you’re saying that because he was careful about hiding his sexual preference, he won’t think we’re hip to looking for him at known gay establishments.”
“Right. And straight people don’t hang out at these places. So for him, these may be safe havens. Where he doesn’t have to worry about law enforcement hanging out there and picking him up.”
“What makes you think he’s homosexual?” Curtis asked.
“Victim selection. The lust murder flavor to what he does to the bodies, the cutting of the genitals. Most of the vics were anally penetrated. And the correctional officer, his childhood friend, Lance Kubiak, walked in on him once many years ago when he was having sex with another man. Assuming he’s telling the truth—which might be a stretch for this guy.”
“We should ask Jasmine about it,” Curtis said.
“I did. She didn’t really answer me. And she sure as hell didn’t mention the incident Kubiak described, but I had a feeling there was something she wanted to tell me. Let’s face it, it’s a sensitive subject for some people. I’ll revisit it with her when the time’s right.”
Hurdle shrugged. “Let’s work this angle. I’ll get some undercovers deployed at key places.”
Vail told him about the two bars that Kubiak mentioned.
“Those’ll be at the top of the list.”
“Who found our new vic?” Johnson asked, lifting her feet to get the blood flowing.
“Park’s open till half an hour after dark,” Hurdle said. “Guy with his dog got lost, didn’t get out before it closed. About 7:30 PM he came across a man who seemed to be lugging something heavy over his shoulder. He stopped and watched. It was dark and obviously there were trees in the way, but there was some decent moonlight. He was finally able to see that it was a body draped over the guy’s shoulder.
“The dog saw it too, because he started barking. Perp dropped what he was carrying and fled. No phones in the park and damn near no cell service. So the witness couldn’t call us. He went over, saw the body, then had to find his way back to his car. But he couldn’t get out because the gate was closed. After realizing the guy he saw could still be in the area, he plowed through the barricade and drove till he had a signal, called 911.”
“Did he give us a description?”
“White guy, big and strong. Had no trouble maneuvering the body.”
“Certainly sounds like Marcks,” Vail said, looking around. “Only been here once. Aren’t there waterfalls around here somewhere?”
“You mean because the park’s called Great Falls?” Curtis said.
“I see I’m not the only one who can do sarcasm.”
“There are three,” Hurdle said. “They’ve got overlooks not far from here. Five to ten minute walk. Aren’t any roads that lead there, so only way in is by foot. Why?”
Vail thought a moment. “It fits in that he seems to gravitate toward parks.”
Curtis stamped a foot. “We found one of his earlier vics in a national park.”
“Yeah,” Vail said, glancing around. “That could be it. He’s comfortable in less densely populated, wooded spaces. And after hours they offer definite advantages.”
“There are a gazillion square miles of parkland in Virginia,” Hurdle said, “but I can put out an alert to Park Police.”
“Can’t hurt.” Vail shook her head absentmindedly. “But he came here, to this one, for a specific reason. Maybe he was going to dispose of the body. Dump it into the falls. Be a long time before we’d find it, if ever.”
“Why dump only this one?” Johnson asked.
“Remember he hacked William Reynolds to bits and then buried him?” Vail shrugged. “I don’t think he wants to leave any traces of where he’s been. He wants us to think he could be halfway to Mexico by now. Or Canada. Or even Arizona or Montana. Harder, if not impossible, for us to focus our resources to find him if it’s a nationwide manhunt.”
“But because we’ve found these bodies,” Hurdle said, “we know he’s staying local. So we don’t have that problem.”
Johnson held out both gloved hands, palms up. “Wouldn’t we know that anyway, if the object is to kill his daughter?”
“We don’t know for sure his objective is to kill her,” Curtis said. “We think he wants to do that. I wanted to be president at one point. Thinking changes, goals shift.”
“You wanted to be president?” Vail asked. “Can’t see that.”