“In any case, the visionary killer feels he’s controlled by something alien, something that is no part of himself. Sometimes he ignores or fights the voices or visions for years before they finally overpower his will. Bottom line, he’s a puppet with someone else-or something else-pulling his strings.”
“Okay,” Hollis said, studying the notes in her hand and then looking up as Mallory pulled the police Jeep to the curb and parked. “This should be it. Last place on Jamie’s list of properties.”
“What’re we expecting to find here?” Mallory wondered, eyeing the boarded-up front window of what had once, years before, been a gas station. “According to her broker, Jamie planned to sell this place.”
“Yeah, but he also said that wasn’t the original plan. She bought this property meaning to raze what’s here and build a nice little place to fit in with the boutiques popping up at this end of town. It would have vastly increased the value of the property. Then she very suddenly decided to just sell out.”
“But she made that decision about several of the properties we’ve looked at. And the broker didn’t say suddenly, he said somewhat unexpectedly.”
“Somewhat unexpectedly about three months ago. Isabel says that fits the time frame; it’s when Jamie started showing signs of nerves. Deciding to unload so much of her property virtually all at once even if it meant taking a loss was out of character, and when people do things out of character there’s usually a good reason behind the actions.”
“Like she accidentally killed a lover, maybe. But what was the plan after she sold out? Did she mean to get her hands on all the cash she could so she could leave town?”
“Could be. Isabel thinks there’s a possibility.”
“Then why are we checking out these places? She wouldn’t have hidden the photo box-or any other keepsake-in a place she was going to sell. You don’t think we’re going to find a body in there?”
“Well, you know as well as I do, the state crime network coughed up a list of at least three women of roughly the right age reported missing in this general area at about the same time Jamie got nervous. The police in each district believe all three women did not leave of their own free will, which makes homicide at least a possibility. And… if things did get out of hand in one of Jamie’s little games, she had to do something with the body.”
“Hide it in a building she owned herself and was planning to sell?”
“I wouldn’t call it a smart thing to do. Unless she figured out a way to completely destroy the body or completely hide it even if the building came down. Or unless she planned to be far away and living under an assumed name or something by the time anything was discovered.”
“Interesting possibilities,” Mallory agreed. “Okay. Grab your flashlight and let’s check it out.”
Isabel turned her gaze to the bulletin boards across the room, which had, Rafe noted, acquired what looked like canvas drop cloths that could be conveniently lowered to cover the boards whenever unauthorized persons were present.
The cloths were lowered now, presumably because Alan had been in the room.
Absently, she said, “Mallory thought the drop cloths would be a good idea, so she fixed them. We can keep the boards covered most of the time, unless we’re in here working. Less chance of too much information leaking out.”
“Isabel? Could a visionary killer gain control over his voices for years between killing sprees? Could he live normally during those years?”
“That would be… unusual.”
“But would it be possible? Could it be? Are we dealing with a killer who really isn’t responsible-at least legally-for what he’s doing?”
“That might depend on the trigger-and the reason or reasons behind all this.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean the human mind, the human psyche, is a very complicated beast. Generally speaking, it knows how to protect itself, or the most fragile aspects of itself. If he’s hearing voices or seeing visions, and they’re commanding him to do things utterly alien to his nature, then sure-he could forget about them the moment the voices or visions stop.”
“For years on end?”
“Maybe. And then something happens in his life to trigger this psychosis, and his sick and twisted alter ego comes out to play.”
“For six weeks. Six women. Six murders.”
“The number, the time period, both have to be relevant, either tied to an event somewhere in his past or tied to the psychosis. To his voices.”
“Which is your guess?”
Isabel thought for a moment, then said, “Childhood. The majority of the traumas that affect us most deeply occur in childhood. It’s when we’re most vulnerable.”
“What about the idea that he’s schizophrenic?”
“There are schizophrenics able to function, with medication and other treatment. No pharmacy within a hundred miles has filled a prescription for the sort of medication that would be needed.”
Rafe lifted his brows. “Already checked that out?”
“Well, the profile noted the possibility of schizophrenia, so it seemed prudent. An inquiry from the Bureau tends to carry a bit of weight, and since we weren’t asking for specific patient information or identification, all the pharmacies were happy to cooperate.”
“Okay. So we can be pretty sure he isn’t being treated for schizophrenia.”
“Which doesn’t rule out him having it. Or that he’s getting psychiatric treatment without medication. We haven’t checked with doctors.”
“Because they wouldn’t disclose the information.”
“Not willingly. They have a responsibility to report it if they believe a patient has committed or is about to commit a violent crime, but that sort of treatment can take years before the doctor truly begins to understand his or her patient.”
“And understand what the voices are making him do.”
“Exactly. In any case, my guess is that our guy isn’t getting treatment of any kind. Whether he’s aware of being sick is an open question; whether he knows what he’s done is another one. From the information we’ve gathered so far, there’s just no way to be certain.”
“Earlier, you said some schizophrenics were, literally, possessed by another person, another soul trying to take over. Is that possible in this case?”
Isabel shook her head. “So far, we’ve never encountered a person in that condition who wasn’t in a mental institution and under restraints or drugged into a stupor. We don’t believe such a person could function normally under any conditions-far less something like this. There’s just too much violence going on in the brain itself to allow even the appearance of normalcy.”
“And our killer appears normal.”
“Yes. No matter how screwed up his childhood may have been, or how many voices he might be listening to, he’s able to function normally to all outward appearances.”
After a moment, Rafe said, “I think I’d prefer an evil killer who knows exactly what he’s doing, sick as it is. At least then it would be…”
“Simpler,” she agreed wryly. “Black and white, no shades of gray. No agonizing over who or what is really responsible. No reason to hesitate or regret. But you know as well as I do that it’s seldom that easy.”
“Yeah. As Hollis said, the universe never seems to want to play it that way. Listen… we aren’t talking about a psychic killer, are we?”
“Christ, I hope not.” With a sigh, she returned her gaze to his face. “True visionary killers are delusional, Rafe. They believe they hear the voices of demons or the voice of God. They’re being commanded to do things they wouldn’t ordinarily do, for reasons the sane among us would find completely nuts. They aren’t psychic; what they’re experiencing isn’t real except inside their own twisted minds.”