Typically, they're bright, personable, even good-looking men. Bundy, the Bandit, the Hillside Strangler, Cortez-they're -all respectable-looking men. So our killer is probably someone these women would let into their home without fear."
"Didn't you say there were two types of serial killers?" Grimsbo asked.
"Yes. There's -also the disorganized A-social killer, but in this case we're not dealing with someone who fits that category. That's unfortunate, because they're easier to catch. They're psychotic loners who relate quite poorly to others and don't have the charm or ability to melt into the community. Their acts are impulsive and the weapon is usually whatever is at hand. The body is often mangled or blood-smeared and they frequently get blood -all over themselves. The crime scenes can be very gruesome.
They're also not mobile, like the organized nonsocials.
Their homicides often take place close to their homes and they often return to the scene of the crime, not to check up on the investigation, but to further mutilate the body or relive the killing. Rarely do they penetrate the body sexually. They usually masturbate on it or in the immediate area, which can be helpful, now that we have workable DNA testing. But your boy is much too clever to be a disorganized A-social."
"Why haven't we found the bodies?" Turner asked.
"He's obviously hiding them, like the Green River Killer. Chief O'Malley tells me there's a lot of farmland and forest in this area. Someday a biker is going to stumble on a mass grave and you'll have your bodies."
"What will they look like, Dr. Klien?" Nancy asked.
"It won't be pretty. We're dealing with a sexual sadist. If he has his victim isolated and he has time… You see, these men are expressing their rage toward their women victims. The mutilation and murder increases their sexual stimulation. In some instances, where the killer is usually impotent, the violence makes sex possible. The fantasy and the torture are the foreplay, Detective. The killing is the penetration.
Some of these men ejaculate automatically at the moment they kill."
"Jesus," Grimsbo muttered. "And you say these guys aren't crazy."
"I said they weren't crazy, but I didn't say they were human.
Personally, I see the man you're looking for as less than human.
Somewhere along the way, some of the things that make us human were lost, either because of genetics or environment or… Well," Klien shrugged,
"it really doesn't matter, does it, because he's beyond hope and must be stopped. otherwise he'll go on and on and on, as long as there are women out there for him to feed on."
Nancy Gordon, Wayne Turner, Frank Grimsbo and Glen Michaels were waiting in O'Malley's office when he returned from dropping Dr. Klien at the airport.
"I sort of expected this," he said, when he saw them.
"Then please explain to us what the fuck is going on," Turner demanded.
"There's no way to sugarcoat it," O'Malley said. "I argued with the mayor and lost, period. We're stuck with Lake.
"You're shitting me," Grimsbo said.
"No, Frank, I'm not shitting you. I'm telling you the facts of political life."
"The guy's a potential suspect," Grimsbo said.
"Let's get this on the table, boys and girls, because I might be able to dump him, if it's true."
"I don't think it is, John," Nancy said. "I've met with him a few times and He's pretty broken up about losing his wife and kid."
"Yeah," Turner countered, "but he says he didn't see anyone coming from the house. Where did the killer go?
There's only one road out of that development from the cul-de-sac."
"The neighbors didn't see anyone either," Nancy said.
"No one saw anyone at the scene of any of the disappearances, Wayne," said Glen Michaels.
"What I want to know is what a civilian is doing on a police investigation," Grimsbo said.
O'Malley sighed. "Lake's fixed politically. He's known as a criminal lawyer because he won that insanity defense for that fruitcake Daley.
But the guy's specialty is real estate law and he's made a few million at it, some of which he has contributed to the mayor's campaign chest.
He's -also a major contributor to the governor and he serves on some land use planning council in Albany. The bottom line is, the governor called the mayor yesterday, who then called me to explain how Lake's experience as a criminal lawyer will be invaluable in the investigation and how lucky we are to have him on our team. The press is already on the mayor's ass for keeping the disappearances quiet until the Lake murders forced his hand. He's desperate for results and he's not going to buck a request from the governor or a major campaign contributor."
"I don't trust him," Turner said. "I had a case with Lake a few years back. We served a warrant on this guy and found a kilo of coke in his room. There was a pregnant woman at the house with no record. She swore the coke was hers and the guy was doing her a favor by letting her stay in his room while she was expecting. The defendant beat the case and the d.a. didn't even bother to indict the chick. I could never prove it, but I heard rumors that Lake paid the woman to perjure herself."
"Anyone else heard anything like that?" O'Malley asked.
Michaels shook his head. "He's cross-examined me two or three times. My impression is that he's very bright. He did an excellent job in a case involving blood spatter evidence. Really had me going up there."
"I've heard he's a smart guy," Grimsbo said, "but I've heard those rumors about the fix too, and a few of the lawyers I know don't like Lake's ethics. He's still a suspect, even if he's a long shot, and I just don't like the idea of a citizen working on something this sensitive."
"Look, I agree with you, Frank," O'Malley said. "It stinks. But it doesn't matter. Until I can convince the mayor otherwise, Lake stays. just try to keep him out from under our feet. Give him lots of busy work, make him read all the reports. if something comes up you don't want him to see, or there's trouble, come to me. Any questions?"
Turner muttered something about the mayor and Grimsbo shook his head in disgust. O'Malley ignored them.
"Okay, get outta here and back to work. You -all heard Klien. We have to stop this psycho fast."
Nancy Gordon's stomach growled. She guessed it was a little after six.
Her watch said it was almost seven. She had been writing reports and lost track of time. On the way out of the station, she walked by the task force office and noticed the lights were still on. Peter Lake was in shirtsleeves, his feet up on the corner of the desk. Near his elbow were a large stack of reports and a yellow pad.
He was making notes as he read.
"You're not going to solve this case in one night," Nancy said quietly.
Lake looked around, startled. Then he grinned sheepishly.
"I always work this hard. I'm compulsive."
Nancy walked over to Lake's desk. "What are you doing'?"
"Reading about the Reardon and Escalante disappearances. I had an idea.
Do you have time?"
"I was going to eat. Want to join me? Nothing special. There's an all-night coffee shop over on oak."
Lake looked at the stack of reports and the clock.
"Sure," he said, swinging his legs off the desk and grabbing his jacket.
"I didn't realize how late it was."
"I was caught up in something too. If my stomach hadn't yelled at me, I'd still be at my desk."
"You must like your work."
"Sometimes."
"How did you get into it?"
"You mean, what's a nice girl like me doing in a job like this?"
"That never occurred to me."