Friedberg tilted his head. “And mentioning you is a problem…why?”
“It’s one thing for the UNSUB to know certain things about our investigation. This kind of offender, he’s gonna want that interaction. We have to control it, even fan those flames-but very carefully. I’ve unfortunately been a part of a few of these cases, and it can really complicate things. I’d rather handle it low key-”
“You?” Burden asked. “Low key?”
“This UNSUB’s got a lot of narcissism and grandiosity. He’s arrogant and self-assured, the kind that taunts law enforcement. He’s posed his bodies in public to show off his handiwork, how great he is. It’s a monument to his skill as a killer. So announcing the FBI Behavioral Analysis Unit is involved turns up the stakes, makes him feel more important. So that’s not bad. But mentioning me by name. That focuses things on me. I’d rather be in the background, in a position where I can pull strings the offender doesn’t know I’m pulling. But now that I’m on his radar, he’s going to be playing to me.”
“How’s that?” Friedberg asked.
“There’s a strong pull between profiler and offenders. Cat and mouse stuff. But the fact I’m a woman…makes it worse. Some of them see it as cool. After their arrest, a lot of ’em want to meet the woman profiler who worked their case.”
“And that’s bad?”
Vail chuckled. “He’s not looking at it as a situation where we’ll meet after the arrest. He’s going to do his best to find me before then.”
“So you want protection,” Burden said.
“Me? Protection? No. I’m saying that it adds a dynamic we didn’t need, a complication we’d have been better off without. And-it just goes to my point that we need to control the media, what they release. Even the precise wording they use in their reports, their articles-”
“Can’t unring a bell.” Burden tossed the paper on the desk. “What’s done is done. Let’s run our investigation based on what we know and what we don’t, not what the media knows and doesn’t know. Okay?”
“Of course,” Vail said, “but to ignore the media’s role and how the UNSUB-”
“I’m not ignoring it. But you planted that inane bit about the ocean. You wanted him to contact you. Maybe he will.”
“You. I wanted him to contact you.”
Burden grumbled something under his breath, then shook his head. “I’m beginning to think that the only thing that’s gonna solve this thing is good old fashioned ass-to-the-grindstone police work. Now. I think we need to look at the ’82 case and see what it can tell us regarding our current vics.”
Friedberg said, “I put out a message to Millard Ferguson.”
Vail ground her teeth. They’re missing the point. “And? Has he replied?”
Friedberg coyly pulled out his BlackBerry and thumbed through it. He tilted his head back to look out the bottoms of his glasses. “He did. Wants to meet.”
Burden grabbed his sport coat. “Why don’t you two go, I’m going to follow up with-”
“Agent Vail.” Before Burden could finish his sentence, a woman entered the room from the outer reception area. “This just came for you.” She handed Vail an envelope.
“Who’s it from?”
“It was messengered over. The man said it was time sensitive and extremely urgent.”
“What man?” Vail asked, heading for the anteroom where the receptionist’s station was.
“The messenger. He gave it to me and left.”
Vail looked at the envelope, then walked back toward Burden. “But other than us, and my unit, no one knows I’m here.” This is not good. Not good at all.
Friedberg said, “You mean other than us, your unit, and the entire city of San Francisco.”
Shit, that’s right. What did I tell them? “Gloves?”
Burden stuck a hand inside his coat pocket and pulled one out.
“What do you do, carry an entire supply in there?”
“Boy Scout 101. Always be prepared.”
Vail slipped on the glove. “Boy Scout 101, huh? How about Anal Inspector 202.”
Burden wagged a finger at the envelope. “Shut up and open it.”
Using the tip of a pen, Vail carefully pried open the flap, then slipped out the piece of paper inside. Yeah. Not good at all.
Staring back at her was a message. From the offender:
THANK YOU FOR COMING AGENT VAIL.
26
August 6, 1959
“Leavenworth’s known as the ‘Big Top,’” the US Marshal said as he led MacNally up to the administration building’s double doors. “It’s also been referred to as the ‘Big L.’ We’ll be calling it your new home. But you’ll be calling it the biggest mistake of your life.”
A heavy steel rolling gate stood there ominously, MacNally’s first indication that this place was seriously committed to keeping its inmates contained on the other side of freedom.
The gate slid aside with the speed of molasses, agonizingly pointing out that once MacNally stepped across the threshold, his life was going to change forever. MacNally craned his neck upward to get a last glimpse of the sky as a free man, but the overhang of the building’s façade impeded his view.
MacNally tripped on the leg irons and stumbled through the gate into a lobby. To his left, a series of similar steel-barred barriers blocked the hall. To the right, a short corridor led to a couple of rooms.
The marshal grabbed hold of his left arm. “Wait here for the R &D officer.” He must have noticed MacNally’s confusion, because he clarified, “Receiving and Discharge.”
A man with the build and expression of a lumberjack walked up.
He pointed at MacNally. “Face the wall to your right.”
MacNally squinted. “What?”
“Face. The. Wall,” he said, as if MacNally was incapable of comprehending English. “Eyes front.”
MacNally did as ordered.
The marshal handed over a document. “Commitment order.”
The R &D officer took the paperwork and began to read it, then noticed MacNally was stealing a look at the text. “What the fuck you looking at? I said eyes front!”
MacNally swung his head back toward the grimy wall.
“Thanks, Deputy,” the officer said. “I’ve got custody. Be back in a few with the iron.”
The man grabbed hold of MacNally’s arm. “Let’s go.”
Ahead of him, barely visible through two more gates that boasted inch-thick steel bars, was an oddly out of place, intricately designed rotunda. An officer’s desk sat squarely in its center, with dark lines along the floor radiating outward toward the walls. Columns rose in pairs all around him, with hallways leading off the main hub.
The first gate’s bars slid apart and the two men walked through. They waited as it slammed shut behind them. The third one then opened slowly, and as they stepped forward into the rotunda, this door also struck metal with a violent echo as it banged closed.