“Sadistic doesn’t necessarily mean sexual gratification, though the killers likely received sexual gratification either in the planning of the murders or after the fact. The actual murders were methodical, well-planned, but at the same time reckless.”
“Non sequitur, Dr. Vigo,” Richardson interjected.
“Bear with me, Bob. Let’s look at the actual murders. Two people come together to kill a specific target-their victims are not random, they were selected because of who they are or what they represent. Victimology in this case is criticaclass="underline" if they were killed because of something they did or didn’t do, it’ll be much easier to identify potential suspects, particularly if all three victims were involved in the same event. If they were killed because of what they represent-the military, or the army specifically-it will be more difficult. In the latter case, you’d probably be looking for a soldier or former soldier who felt he had been treated unfairly by the military or his unit. Possibly suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder and reliving a horrific event, accompanied by some sort of psychosis that leads him to believe killing other soldiers will relieve his anxiety. But I don’t see this type of killer as working with a partner or going through the elaborate ritual.”
Megan leaned forward. “So you think the killers knew the victims personally?”
For a moment, Hans didn’t say anything. “Possibly, or at least knew of them if they had never met them before. They were singled out specifically, and that’s why I want you to meet me in Austin.”
“Austin, Texas?” Megan asked.
“There’s far more going on here than the reports indicated. I need to talk to those who knew Duane Johnson. He’s the first known victim, and the killers waited nearly two full months before killing again, which makes me think they were waiting for something.”
“Like what?”
“Could be for the second victim-Perry-to be in a position where they could get to him, or because they wanted to see what the police would do, or because they feared they’d screwed up somehow.”
Megan took notes while shaking her head. “I can’t go to Austin, I have to get Price’s body back, work with the CID on the evidence and autopsy-”
Richardson interrupted. “They’re not going to give you a thing, Megan. And we have a far more important situation here.”
Hans said over the speaker, “I agree. How did the killers know you were on the Price case, Megan?”
Megan had been thinking about that since she opened the package. “I don’t know. Maybe one or both of them were observing us Monday morning at the crime scene? Our office gets a lot of attention, especially after the O’Brien case last year. I did that interview-” She frowned at Richardson. She hadn’t wanted to talk to the press, but her boss felt that having her on prime-time news would help with public relations. “They could have picked up on my position on the Violent Crimes Squad.”
“Why you and not the SPD detective? Or the media?”
“Okay, I’ll bite. Why?” She wasn’t sure she wanted to know the answer.
“I don’t know.”
“Great. If you don’t know, how does that help?”
“It could be nothing-the killer taunting police-and because the FBI is considered the higher law enforcement agency-no offense, Detective Black-the killers would want to taunt the FBI. But they had your home address, Meg.”
“I know,” she said quietly.
“I think it’s a good idea to get out of town,” Richardson said. He used the intercom to ask his assistant to book a flight ASAP for Megan to Texas.
“I’m not running away.”
“I’m not suggesting you do. Dr. Vigo wants your help and the FBI has already determined this is a serial murder investigation. We have the authority to go in if we need to. And you can’t do anything here that SPD can’t do-I have confidence that Detective Black will keep us informed if anything important arises.”
“Absolutely,” Black said. “And,” he added, “the information you bring back from Austin and Vegas can help us here because we have next to nothing after losing the evidence to CID.”
“Is this connected to Price being AWOL?” Megan asked the group. “Price was living on the streets; how did the killers know him? Know where to find him?”
“Aw, that’s the million-dollar question.” Hans said. “If you can figure that out, I think you’ll have a much greater chance of capturing them. They have inside information-suggesting that they personally know these men or have access to their records.”
“But CID didn’t know where Price was until he was dead and we flagged his record.”
“Which narrows their information source exponentially. We have to learn everything we can about Duane Johnson and Dennis Perry. One or both of them could have known where Price was.”
“Agent Vigo,” Black interjected, “you said that the crimes were both methodical and reckless. Can you expand on that?”
“Sorry, I got sidetracked. Methodical in that they were well planned. They waited for their victim, hamstrung him to prevent escape, restrained him, and tortured him with needles for an indeterminate length of time, but probably between one and five hours. Then they executed him.”
“It sounds more like playtime,” Megan said. “Pulling wings off butterflies.”
“Excuse me?” Richardson said.
“You’re right on the money.” Hans was proud. “I hadn’t thought of it like that, but yeah, they were playing. Torturing the victim as much to make him suffer as to derive satisfaction and pleasure from being in control of another’s pain.”
“And then they get tired and shoot him in the head. Quick and efficient, when there’s nothing quick or efficient about human torture.”
Hans said, “I think the dynamic between these two killers is critical. Which is the dominant personality? Which one decided the targets and how to take them out? Who pulled the trigger?”
“Metaphorically?” Black asked.
“Literally. Whoever pulled the trigger is the dominant killer. He may be the person torturing the victims, or both could be involved, but whoever uses the gun is in charge.”
“Essentially, playtime is over. Pick up their toys and go home.”
“Right.”
“Is there always a dominant killer in a partnership like this?” Black asked.
“In my experience,” Hans said. “Two dominant personalities would not last long together. One would kill the other, or they would go their separate ways. Someone has to make the rules, someone has to follow orders. This is a partnership in that the submissive partner does what the dominant partner wants. If the weaker of the two acts out, the dominant will slap him down.”
The intercom buzzed. “SAC Richardson, I have Agent Elliott on a ten-twenty flight to Texas.”
Megan glanced at her watch. “That’s barely an hour.”
“You’d better get going.”
Hans said, “I’m taking a military transport, I’ll meet you there. Be careful, Megan. I really don’t like the idea that the killers have your home address.”
“Neither do I.” Megan stood, then asked Hans before he disconnected, “What are the chances we can find them before another man dies?”
“You don’t want to know.”
Jack didn’t particularly want Padre tagging along, but it wasn’t like he’d tell the priest to back off. Scout had been his friend as well, and seeing him dead and naked would stay with Jack for the rest of his life. Scout had been family, closer than blood.
He asked Padre, “You okay?”
“Been better. Watch your back with Perez.”
“Fuck Perez and the jackass he rode in on. Dammit, Padre, you know Perez can’t handle this.”
Jack slowed his truck as he neared the rectory. “You want off here?”
“No.”
Jack hadn’t expected Padre to bail, and he pressed the accelerator. Driving too fast, he halted in front of El Gato, the bar on the city/county border where Scout had been last night.
Jack jumped out of the truck and his friend followed. Padre wanted to talk, but he couldn’t talk now. Not about Perez, not about anything. He focused on finding out what happened the night before, when Scout left, who he left with, and who he may have had a confrontation with.