Reeder asked, “Aide for...?”
“Congressman Silas Denton from New Jersey.”
“Liberal.”
“Yes.”
“Michael have a significant other?”
“No. Nor did he have much of a social life. A very work-driven individual. Representative Denton was extremely upset about the murder, said the young man was going places.”
Wade said glumly, “Which he did.”
“Victim number two is no liberal,” Ivanek said. “Harvey Carroll, CPA, Springfield resident, had his own small business in Fairfax Station. Killed at home, no struggle — October 7. Divorced, father of one girl, who lives with her mom. Conservative voter, churchgoer. A good guy, by all accounts.”
Reeder asked, “A good guy, but was he the accountant for somebody bad?”
“Not that we’ve found,” Ivanek said. “Mostly, he worked for Christian charities and a few small companies. He did very little work for individuals. We haven’t found anybody who’s had a bad word to say about him — well, except his ex-wife.”
Anticipating Reeder’s next question, Rogers said, “And the ex-wife’s bad words are limited to how boring ol’ Work-Work-Work Harvey had been. Not exactly the kind of complaints that lead to two bullets in the back of the head.”
Reeder’s eyebrows made a little shrug. “You should talk to my ex before you make that assumption.”
That got a few chuckles.
Ivanek picked up: “Victim number three — a reference librarian from Burke. Carolina Uribe worked at the Burke Centre Library, lived alone, killed November 15.”
Reeder asked, “The only female victim?”
Hardesy said, “Depends on how you count this Karma character.”
Rogers said, “Luke, let’s not spoil our new friendly relationship by you making inappropriate cracks about one of the victims, whose murder we’re trying to solve.”
All heads turned to the ex-military man, anticipating flying fur. None flew.
He held up his hands. “My bad, kids. My only question is whether we refer to this vic as Karma or DeShawn, her or him. Not bein’ snide, boss — just practical.”
Rogers thought about that. “Legal name is DeShawn, and gender on the autopsy is male. We’ll go with DeShawn and ‘he.’”
Nobody disagreed with that assessment.
Hardesy did say, “I understand this individual preferred to be referred to as female. But we’ll make it up to the vic by bringing in his goddamn killer.”
Nods and even some applause.
Ivanek resumed his rundown. “Victim number four, William Robertson. Floor supervisor at Dunnelin Machine in Bowie, Maryland. Married with two kids, only vic — including DeShawn Davis — not killed at home. December 17.”
Reeder asked, “Where did the shooting go down?”
“Men’s room of the shop where he worked.”
Nichols said, “I covered that one. Perfect place for a murder. Twenty employees who mostly run machines and don’t talk except at breaks. Office is separate, away from the workers. Trucks bring material in, take product out, mailman, FedEx, UPS, people in and out all the time. If you’re a killer, here’s the beauty part — no security cameras. They have no problem with theft, so there’s no need.”
Reeder asked, “Robertson got shot twice in the head and nobody saw or heard anything?”
“Factory noise there is pretty intense,” Nichols said. “Plus, the killer might have used a sound suppressor — some damn good ones available these days.”
Rogers asked, “But would a pro do that? A hit at a busy workplace?”
Reeder said, “A pro who has done his homework would do that sooner than some serial killer might.”
“There are exceptions,” Ivanek said, “but most serials operate under conditions they’ve thoroughly stage-managed — they like things wholly in their control.”
Reeder glanced back at the screen, then said to Nichols, “You went to this factory?”
“I did.”
“I take it Dunnelin Machine’s not the building in the Bryson SIM card photo.”
“It’s not.” She smiled, mildly embarrassed. “Sorry, I should have said that right away. No, Dunnelin is a smaller building, brick.”
Rogers could see Reeder’s wheels turning, though his expression itself was typically unreadable. But everyone seemed to sense he was mulling something, and all eyes were on him.
Finally he said, “Rule out serial killer.”
Ivanek frowned. “Mr. Reeder, it’s too early for that. We still can’t know that—”
“You can rule it out. Narrow your focus. This is a professional killer. This is a killer with a list. Your job isn’t so much to find the connections between these victims as it is how they got on the same kill list.”
Rogers asked, “Was Chris Bryson on that list, do you think?”
“A late addition.”
Ivanek sat up so straight he almost stood. “But the mode is completely different. A faked suicide by hanging is hardly a double-tap execution.”
“Chris was a special case,” Reeder said, “and required more than a lone killer to carry out the execution. The others got themselves on the list for reasons as yet unknown. But we do know how Chris got on there.”
Rogers said, “We do?”
Reeder nodded. “He stumbled onto something that he recognized as something big, something bad. Possibly these murders you’ve been looking into... but I think it’s more than that. Chris was a fine investigator, with the same kind of top-notch training everyone here has had. If he’d run into a possible serial killer, he’d have gone to you guys at the FBI. Not pursue it himself.”
Bohannon said, “So what the hell are we dealing with then?”
“I’m not sure,” Reeder admitted.
Wade was shaking his head. “I don’t see how we can rule out a serial killer yet. Maybe your pal Chris didn’t come to us or the cops because he wasn’t sure what he had.”
“Agent Wade — Reggie?” Reeder’s smile was barely there. “Why would a serial who killed four victims in their homes — counting DeShawn Davis — break the pattern for this one vic, Robertson, and kill him at work?”
“Because Robertson had a family maybe.”
“Okay, but why not take out the whole family?”
Wade shrugged. “Not his deal.”
“All right... but why not choose a victim who was his ‘deal’? Not strike at the vic’s workplace, where the possibility of getting caught was exponentially greater?”
“No idea,” Wade admitted.
“Trevor,” Reeder said, turning to the behaviorist, “I don’t mean to tread on your specialty. But nothing’s been taken, no trophies.”
Ivanek said, “Serials don’t always take trophies.”
“Granted. But if this is a serial, how did he get so goddamn good, right out of the gate?”
Nobody had an answer.
Reeder turned to Bohannon. “You’ve said the entry-wound groupings are damn near perfect.” Then to Ivanek: “Does someone killing out of a need to fulfill a compulsion usually display that kind of skill?”
The behaviorist let out some air. “That bothered me, too. Most serials perfect their craft over time and out of experience. Assuming he hasn’t been operating elsewhere...”
“FBI computers would have picked that up,” Miggie said.
“... this guy is already good at his killing craft.”
“Professional-level good?” Reeder asked.
Trevor nodded.
Rogers said, “Which brings us back to a professional killer with a list of victims.”
“It does,” Reeder said, and gestured to the flat-screen. “If Chris somehow tumbled into whatever these pictures add up to — and started looking into something suspicious — then we’ll find the answer in the three photos that he left behind for us.”