Chapter Fourteen
The task force gathered around the conference table with cups of coffee and plates of bagels spread between them, the low murmur of conversation fading as they prepared for Suki’s presentation.
The hum of the overhead fixtures blended with the rustle of paper and the scrape of shifting chairs as the room grew still, everyone's gaze shifting toward the profiler.
Suki took a sip from the cup she’d refilled in the department break room and made a face.
Sean understood completely. In seven years with the FBI, he had yet to find a police station capable of producing a decent cup of caffeine.
Considering the gourmet blend she kept stocked in her office back in Quantico, this swill had to be borderline offensive.
She’d never denied being both a connoisseur and a snob when it came to coffee, and Sean had heard enough lectures from her over the years about the importance of a properly roasted bean to know she was suffering.
Setting the cup aside, she drew in a slow breath before launching into her report. “I've read through the files and autopsy reports and believe I’ve come up with a pretty accurate profile on your killer."
"How accurate is accurate?" Rafe asked.
Sean noticed the sharp focus in the agent's expression. It seemed as if Rafe’s interest in Suki extended beyond professional respect, though to his credit, he was listening to every word she said.
"Well, with profiling, there’s always room for adjustment. It’s an ongoing process that evolves with each kill and crime scene. I may need to tweak my analysis a little when I get hold of the entire Philadelphia case file. However, I believe I’m about ninety percent accurate with this one.”
She rose from her chair and began pacing the length of the room, her notepad open in one hand. Sean recognized the movement as a habit. Sitting still had never suited her when she presented a profile, and the steady motion always seemed to lend greater authority to her delivery.
“You’re looking for a male in his late thirties to early fifties with average or just above average intelligence and educational level.
He’ll be able to blend in with his surroundings and is probably considered a model citizen by many.
His neighbors have nothing bad to say about him.
He holds a good job and may even be married to, or dating, a woman who’s the opposite of his victims.
“In other words, a shy, dark-haired, plain Jane who wears frumpy or old-fashioned clothes. He probably comes from a single-parent home and was raised by an abusive mother. Something set him off in Philadelphia, and because the first victim there was a prostitute and he’s carving the word ‘sinner’ into them, my guess is the victim propositioned him.
“His first kill surprised him—it wasn’t something he planned.
From the initial report we received, it seemed to be a disorganized kill.
The carved torso was done postmortem. However, when it was all over, he realized he enjoyed it.
It excited him. He gained more confidence with each kill and, as a result, became more organized.
And now, with the publicity, he may increase the frequency of his kills. "
Silence followed. Sean studied the faces around the table. Even the most seasoned among them looked unsettled by the picture Suki had painted. The realization that the killer was growing bolder with every victim seemed to press in from all sides, leaving no one untouched by the grim implication.
Brad’s eyes widened. "You mean he's not going to wait a month?"
Suki shook her head. "I don’t think so. He's had a taste of fame now, and he's going to enjoy it."
“Great. That’s just great.” The detective pressed his fingers to his temples and rubbed. “We may have a profile now, but it brings us no closer to catching this guy. That description could be any one of the thousands of men in the county."
"That may be," Sean said, leaning forward in his chair, "but at least if we start coming up with suspects, we can narrow them down."
“I think these women have all been victims of opportunity,” Suki continued. “I don’t believe he stalked them, and the first time he saw them was the night he killed them.”
He leaned back in his chair, turning a pen between his fingers as he considered her assessment. It fit with what they’d seen so far, though one detail still refused to line up.
“So after the first kill, he went looking for a certain type of woman, found one, and zeroed right in on her. The first five victims were all placed where they would be found relatively quickly. Why was Daphne Jones further off the beaten path, literally?”
Suki glanced down at her notes before lifting her gaze again. “Could be something as simple as he got spooked. Maybe while he was disposing of the body in the park, he heard someone coming and had to hide.”
Sean gave a slight nod. It was plausible. If the killer had panicked, even for a moment, it might explain the deviation.
“Okay,” Brian said, bracing his forearms on the table, “here’s another question.
Why the three kills in Pennsylvania, one each month, then nothing until he started up again down here?
They obviously had no suspects there, and it hadn’t hit the media.
He wasn’t about to be discovered, so why move down here?
Why not stay where he was having, I hate to say it, success? It’s not like he ran out of victims.”
The profiler lifted one shoulder. “I don’t think his move to North Carolina had anything to do with his kills, his victims, or any risk of discovery.
Maybe his job transferred him, or he moved for family reasons.
As long as he has a large enough pool of victims to choose from, it doesn’t matter where he lives. ”
The answer made sense, but Sean didn’t like it.
It meant they were chasing a man whose relocation could have been triggered by something as ordinary as a promotion or a family obligation.
There was no pattern there to exploit. “Hopefully, he’ll start making mistakes somewhere and give us a lead, because right now, we’ve got nothing. ”
He flipped open his laptop and scanned the fresh emails waiting in his inbox.
One from Mark Evans at the FBI lab caught his attention.
Relief stirred as he opened it. At least this was something concrete.
“Mark put a rush on the DNA for me. As I expected, it didn’t match anyone in the system.
However, if we come up with a suspect, at least we have a sample to compare against.”
He caught Brad's attention. “Have we gotten anything on the tip line yet?”
The detective blew out a breath and dragged a hand across his jaw.
“Yeah. I haven’t listened to them yet, but I checked just before I came in here, and there were a hundred and forty-two messages.
It’ll take me an hour or two to get through them all.
When I’m done, we can split them up and start weeding out the crazies. Doc, do you have anything else for us?”
Suki lowered herself into her chair and closed her notepad.
“The only other thing is the pennies. I agree with Sean’s theory that the 1993 date has some significance for the UNSUB, but what that is, we may never know unless he tells us.
That’s pretty much it, though I may have more after I receive the rest of the files from Philadelphia. ”
Brad pushed back from the table. “In that case, I’m going to update the sheriff, then start on that list of tips.”
As the man left the room, Sean finished scanning through the search results on his laptop. Nothing new surfaced from the parameters he’d entered into the system. Every avenue circled back to the same conclusion.
“There are no other hits in the system. It looks like Philadelphia was his starting point. Now we have to figure out why.” The unanswered question nagged at him. Somewhere in those files was the thread that connected Philadelphia to North Carolina. They just hadn’t found it yet.
For the next hour, Sean and Suki combed through the case files again, comparing details against the notes spread across the table while Brian and Rafe transferred the updated profile and key points onto the whiteboards.
Marker squeaks punctuated the room as theories and timelines took shape in broad black strokes.
Just after nine-thirty, an FBI courier arrived with the Philadelphia case files. The thick stack landed on the conference table with a dull thud that seemed to draw everyone’s attention.
Sean and Suki exchanged a look before diving in. Meanwhile, Brian and Rafe headed out to collect the list of tips from Brad and begin sorting through what would no doubt be an exhausting mix of legitimate leads, misunderstandings, and wild speculation.
Hours passed in a blur of reports, notes, and dead ends.
By three o’clock, Sean’s eyes burned from staring at pages and screens. Mental fatigue had begun to wear on him, and he took a few moments away from the chaos to step into the hallway and call Grace.
She answered on the second ring, and the sound of her voice brought an immediate lift to his mood.
“Hi, Sean, how's your day going?"
A smile tugged at his mouth. “Much better now that I'm talking to you. How about you? Was everything delivered on time?”
Her soft laugh drifted through the line. “Yes, the delivery truck showed up at ten o'clock. I now have my chairs, the PT tables, and the washer/dryer. Since there was nothing else to do over there today, I’m helping Bonnie with new inventory at the boutique."
“Great. Listen, Suki will only be here for one more night, and I wanted to invite you over for dinner, so you could get to know her. She's a great person, and I think you two would really like each other. I was going to grab some steaks and throw them on the grill. So what do you say?”
“That sounds good, and I guess I owe her an apology for this morning,” she said with a trace of amusement.