‘And my last point,’ he continued, ‘which baffles me more than all the others, is the fact that victim one was raped repeatedly.’ He shrugged as he spoke. ‘People who are dominated by sexual compulsion to commit ever-increasingly savage and brutal crimes will never find enough satisfaction in their acts to the point that it will make them spontaneously stop. We all know this. They simply can’t stop themselves. Nevertheless, we just found out that victim two wasn’t even touched.’ Garcia paused for breath. ‘Looking at both crimes, the only similarities we have, other than the “I AM DEATH” bullshit, is that both victims were female and in their early twenties. That’s it. Nothing else matches. Not even the level of violence.’
Hunter tucked his hands deep inside his pockets. ‘I know all this, Carlos, and you’re right on every point. Sociopaths who are guided by powerful MOs such as sexual gratification, extreme sadism, and victim abduction followed by torture and death rarely detour from those MOs. And even when they do, it’s usually an escalation, or a slight variation, not a total detachment like we have here. I’ve been wracking my brain trying to come up with a plausible theory to explain any of this since I first laid eyes on her this morning.’
Garcia looked at Hunter questioningly.
‘The only thing I could come up with was that this killer is lacking that uncontrollable urge.’
Garcia greeted Hunter’s statement first with silence, then by looking back at Sharon Barnard’s disfigured face.
‘The uncontrollable urge,’ Hunter repeated. ‘That compulsive desire inside of them that so many can’t even explain themselves and are completely helpless against. Like you said a minute ago — they simply can’t stop themselves. I don’t think that that’s what drove this guy to abduct, rape, torture and kill Nicole Wilson, or to invade Sharon Barnard’s home and mutilate her the way he did. That’s not why he’s doing what he’s doing.’
A thoughtful silence descended on the room one more time.
‘So why is he?’ Doctor Hove asked eventually.
Hunter shook his head. ‘I’m not sure what’s driving him yet. But this guy is not out of control, Doc. He’s not losing an internal battle against his urges. On the contrary, he’s completely in control of everything he does. He abducts, he rapes, he tortures, he kills, not to satisfy some overpowering desire inside of him.’
Hunter faced the body.
‘He does it because he wants to. He’s showing us that he can be any sort of killer he wants, morph from one type to another in no time at all. Because he’s not driven by compulsion. He’s a killer by choice.’
Forty-one
Garcia was the one who knocked on Captain Blake’s door. She had called both detectives into her office for an unscheduled meeting, which wasn’t at all unusual. The surprising fact was finding Chief of Police James Bracco in her office, also waiting for them.
Captain Blake was standing by the bookshelf on the south wall, while Chief Bracco had taken one of the two Chesterfield armchairs that faced her desk. He was nursing a full cup of coffee, from which no steam was visible. His posture and facial expressions were tense to say the least.
As Hunter and Garcia stepped into the well airconditioned office, Chief Bracco immediately stood up and turned to face them. Instead of his usual raven-black police uniform with four silver stars on each side of his shirt collar, he wore a well-tailored suit, silvery-gray in color, with the jacket open to reveal a blue tie and a white dress shirt underneath. His horseshoe mustache matched his peppery hair.
‘Detectives,’ he said, taking one step forward and offering his hand.
No introductions were necessary. Despite taking over from the previous Chief of Police just over eight months ago, both detectives had met Chief Bracco at least a couple of times before.
They all shook hands, and then Hunter’s gaze quickly moved to his captain. Hunter could tell that some of Chief Bracco’s anxiety had rubbed off on her.
‘OK, you both know that I’m not a man to beat around the bush,’ the Chief of Police began, placing his untouched cup of coffee on the small coffee table between the two armchairs. His voice was firm but slightly hoarse, as if he was either fatigued or had just come out of a bad cold. ‘So I’m not going to waste your time or mine with bullshit conversation.’
Captain Blake returned to her desk, but instead of taking a seat she stood behind her chair, resting her forearms on the backrest.
‘Despite doing our best to keep the specifics of this investigation as airtight as possible,’ Chief Bracco continued, ‘there’s no avoiding it anymore, the case will make the news by tomorrow.’ He lifted his right index finger to stop anyone from asking any questions before he was finished. ‘Our press office is expected to issue a statement by tomorrow morning. As far as we know, the press isn’t aware of any of the grisly details, like the level of violence used or the fact that this psycho likes to call himself “Death”.’ The chief’s eyebrows arched ironically. ‘As original as that might sound. They also have no idea that this morning’s murder is directly linked to the body that was found in the early hours of yesterday by LAX, so there will be no mention of the term “serial killer”. Not by the press, not at the conference tomorrow, and not by any of us. I’m sure I don’t have to remind anyone in this room how sensationalist the LA press can be. Hell, they practically invented the term. If any of this leaks, it will start a city-wide panic that I’m sure will spiral out of control faster than a skunk’s fart. And I hate that goddamn smell.’
Chief Bracco readjusted his tie before moving on.
‘As we all know, for some reason this douchebag decided to bring Mayor Bailey into the loop with the picture and the note that was sent to him yesterday. With elections just around the corner, it’s no surprise that the mayor is now freaking the fuck out.’ He paused for a moment while his gaze moved from one detective to another. ‘Frankly, I must admit that so am I. At least a little bit. This investigation is only two days old — two days old — and we already have just as many bodies. This killer seems to be on a roll.’ He breathed out, shaking his head. ‘Though I haven’t visited the site, I saw the crime-scene photographs. Who the fuck murders someone by scraping off her face with an electric sander?’
No one said anything because they all thought it was a rhetorical question.
They were wrong.
Chief Bracco pinned Hunter down with a gaze that could’ve curdled milk.
‘I understand that you have a Ph.D. in criminal behavioral psychology, Detective Hunter.’
Hunter’s reply was a subtle nod.
‘And that there’s no one more experienced than the two of you when it comes to cases of this nature.’ His eyes moved to Garcia, then back to Hunter.
‘So please, humor me this once. What type of creep are we after here, other than one with a massive hard-on for killing people?’ He nodded at Captain Blake. ‘Barbara has already told me that, despite the star positioning of the first body, neither of you believe we’re dealing with a ritualistic killer here. So who are we after?’
Hunter studied the Chief of Police for a beat.
‘It’s too soon to tell, sir,’ he replied. ‘We are still trying to analyze the little data we have so far. As you’ve just mentioned, we’ve been on this case for less than forty-eight hours.’
‘I understand that, Detective, and as I’ve also said, in that short amount of time this psycho has already given us two bodies. I’d say that that’s plenty to analyze, wouldn’t you?’ Chief Bracco shook his head. ‘I’m not asking for an official psychological profile here, Detective. I would just like to know your personal opinion of this guy.’