The student hesitated, unsure she wanted to read on. There seemed to be something ominous about this information. Still, it was intriguing, and if there was something to it-that cannibals had some sort of insight into the very deepest inner workings of the universe through a recognition of the soul housed in the human brain-then perhaps she ought to write her paper on that. But who would believe it?
She paused her hand over the keys, trying to decide whether to move on to some information more in keeping with an encyclopedia or to continue on this strange Web page. Either way, time was running out. That paper and Mrs. Weston weren't going to wait. Maybe the safe and conservative road was best, after all.
But her eyes, unlike her fingers, weren't poised. They read on…
TWO
When armies are mobilized and issues joined, the man who is sorry over the fact will win.
FBI Headquarters, Quantico, Virginia The following day
It feels like a war being staged, thought Dr. Jessica Coran, medical examiner for the FBI, and she was fearful of how long and hard this battle might be. For now the human frenetic energy from activity and tension in the hallways as people made their way to the debriefing room rang like free-flowing electrical current. Everyone sensed something big was on the horizon, but so far only a handful of people knew precisely what that big item might be. Jessica and Dr. John Thorpe, her closest associate at the lab, were among the select few on a hastily put together psychological profiling team to deal with two back-to-back killings, which might be a kill spree that ends abruptly or the beginning of a serial killer's career that spans years-like none Jessica had ever seen before. In these two mutilation murders, the attacker had used medical knowledge to literally open his victims from scalp to ears and across the forehead at the eyebrow line, creating a surgically precise window on the forebrain. From there the victims' brains had literally been ripped from them. Speculation ran rampant as to why.
Some conjectured that he turned the brains into mementos of the kills, preserving each and so reliving the crimes over and over. Others in the profiling group said that he might be drying them out, pounding them into a fine powder in order to smoke the brains. Still others thought he might be bathing in the awful prize of his murder, turning them to oil as an aphrodisiac to rub onto his body. No one knew for certain just what use the monster made of the gray matter, and thus far no connection had been made between his two victims other than they were both chosen to die in a hideous manner-the vault protecting their brains cut into while they were yet alive.
Together Jessica and J.T. made their way to the meeting called by Chief Eriq Santiva. Jessica and J.T. had seen the autopsy results on the two victims only in passing and only via paper and photos. They had been on standby to drop whatever they were doing and report to Quantico's D-30, the largest, state-of-the-art debriefing room in the building. They were to come with anything they had on the Anna Gleason and Miriam McCloud cases-two cases so striking in similarity, they were immediately linked to one offender. The brutal killer called to mind no one Jessica had ever dealt with in the past, for his ghoulish need proved as horrific as any brutality that she had encountered in her career as a medical examiner and FBI agent. This particular monster wanted only one thing of his victims-their brains.
He took nothing else from them… nothing but their lives.
J.T. stopped at a bay of coin-operated machines for a Snickers and a cup of coffee, complaining of the date he'd missed the night before. “Sandy's already got some hare brained notion that I'm seeing someone else. This is going to kill our relationship.”
Jessica frowned and shook her head. “I'm not so sure you two are a good match, anyway, John.”
John Thorpe, in wire-rim glasses, still retained his boyish features and a shock of hair habitually covered his forehead. “Whataya mean? Not right for each other?”
“ You're a scientist, she's a Presbyterian minister.”
“ So?”
“ Seems a bit unusual.”
“ She is that…”
Jessica asked him to get her a cup of black coffee as well, and then she hustled Thorpe onward. The two old friends and colleagues hurried for the arena-sized debriefing room.
“ You look as if you're going to church yourself,” he commented on her appearance. Jessica wore her auburn hair at shoulder length, complimenting her heart-shaped face and piercing hazel eyes. She had removed her lab coat to display her well-cut, gray-green suit.
“ You lij^” she replied. “I mifft look like hell in winter.”
“ Not at all…”
She had been busy on other pending cases when this bizarre case had surfaced. Santiva had the unit locked down in a room for hours the night before in an effort to come up with some ideas about the killer, to develop a profile, and to create a rudimentary victim profile as well. Eriq believed time was of the essence, that the killer would strike again, and after seeing the evidence photos, Jessica agreed. As a result, she hadn't gotten much sleep. Despite this, she wanted to look her best since this was a major case, and since the computer visual linkups went to every field office in the country.
Chief Eriq Santiva already gaveled the meeting to order and had quickly informed everyone why they'd assembled. “No expense will be spared to catch this butcher,” he said, fists clenched, as Jessica and J.T. entered and quietly found their seats alongside the podium.
Eriq frowned at them but kept talking. “Headquarters is insisting, people, that every state field office east of the Mississippi be here today in person.” This was met with some boisterous cheers. The Cuban-American Sandra now waved down the crowd and again spoke into the microphone, thanking everyone profusely for hustling to get to Quantico. “You'll notice,” he continued, “the distinct absence of reporters. This is not a briefing for the press, and I want a lid kept on this case. Nothing goes to the press unless it goes through me first. Any leaks, you deal with me!”
Everyone murmured approval over this.
“ I'm sure by now the rumor mill has given you some idea of the problem child we're here to talk about, ladies and gentlemen. This death in Richmond-” Eriq paused to focus on the slide photo of the victim in profile, the side of her head cleaned of blood by the medical man who’d autopsied her in Richmond, Virginia. Even cleaned, the gaping hole only hinted at the size of the entire hole left in this woman's head. Although this was a mere third of the wound, the black emptiness of it proved terrifying to stare at, but stare everyone did. The wholly unusual nature of the crime displayed on the large screen over Jessica's shoulder made the room gasp in a collective venting of horror. The next photo displayed the frontal shot of the victim, and her wound-a missing forehead and scalp where the skull had been splayed open across the frontal lobe area.
The collective gasp turned into a collective, disjointed moan, followed by chattering confusion. They had all heard of the case, heard that the victim's brain had been “stolen” from its cranial cradle, but here were numerous shots being shown of the cleaned opening for autopsy. No one had expected this precise an incision. A good portion of the agents in the room had looked for a messy, cracked skull with a huge chasm atop the cranium, the results of a brutal attack from overhead. Most had expected to see the results of a killer's having ripped and torn apart the crown in a passionate, insatiable animal fashion to get at the brain below. As Jessica, J.T. and the unit had learned the night before-and the reason she'd gotten no sleep-nothing could be further from the truth.