He thumbed through the pages of the album. An attorney, a waitress, a student. Was his nemesis putting the fragments together even as he sat here in the comfort of his father's old recliner, book on his lap, additional photographs ready to insert into the black photo corners? He touched the pictures of his sacrifices, traced his fingertips over each one as he removed and reinserted it in the book. As he did, he relived the grittiness of the real-life scenes. The splintery boards and cement floors, the drip, drip gooiness that puddled steadily on abandoned fields and the earthiness of fresh-turned dirt.
The lawyer had begun life with such bright promise, but his destiny changed the moment he manipulated the law for his own purposes. "Henry," he whispered aloud in the still room. "You didn't perform to the best of your ability." What if Beethoven had allowed deafness to stifle his music, or Michelangelo had been content to paint landscapes in his backyard?
Fingering the artifacts stirred him to ferocious heights.
Several hours later, calmed and centered once more, he exited the consecrated, sacrosanct place. He cast a final look around, his gaze lingering on the photos pinned at various angles around the room, their smoky colors dancing in the flicker of the candles.
Excellent.
He extinguished the candles one at a time. Then he secured the double locks, replaced the false panel and art deco print of Cassandre's Normandie, and entered the bedroom.
Chapter Twenty-four
The next morning Slater set up an incident room for them to work in. Jack asked Waylon Harris and Isabella Torres to join them and had commandeered Deeds and Coleman, two federal agents from the Sacramento office.
Jack stood at the head of a long conference table, leaning forward on his hands, elbows rigid, and explained to the newcomers what they'd figured out last night. "The killer thinks he's a messenger or prophet of God and the notes are warnings."
"He's deeply steeped in religious iconoclasty," Olivia added, "but he's warning his victims after the fact."
"Punishing them for the bad behavior he thinks they've already engaged in," Jack said. "He's a sociopath with a god-like sense of omnipotence, and he believes he can't be touched by the authorities."
"Religion – that why he crucified two of the victims?" Harris asked.
Jack nodded. "This is the way I see it." Using the white board at his back, he reviewed each of the cases, along with the notes and their translations. "Any questions?" he asked the newcomers.
After a moment's silence, Olivia spoke, appearing to choose her words carefully. "I thought about this last night." She flashed a quick glance at Jack, and he knew she was thinking it wasn't all she'd done last night. He'd kept her quite busy after Slater left.
"I think we've been looking at the notes from the wrong angle," she said.
"What do you mean?" Slater asked.
"We've been looking at the meaning of the note in relation to the victim." She shook her head. "But we also need to look at the notes as a whole. The first notes are simple, but the later notes, the ones that are connected to California victims are much more sophisticated."
"I don't understand how," Agent Coleman said, speaking for the first time, his fresh young face turning pink when all eyes turned toward him.
"The latter notes are actually constructed," Olivia explained, "and that requires more than a cursory knowledge of Latin grammar."
"So the second notes are… smarter?" Deeds asked.
"That's one way to put it." Olivia smiled and looked around the room right before she dropped the bombshell. "I don't believe all the notes were written by the same person."
"Are you saying we have two killers?" Slater asked.
Olivia bit her bottom lip. "I'm not positive, but I think so."
Jack straightened from where he leaned against the wall. Two killers?
Coleman peered from behind bottle-glassed eyewear. "But according to guidelines this is clearly the work of one serial killer."
"How can you be sure if there's no physical evidence?" Slater argued.
"Psychopaths rarely work in pairs," Coleman answered. "Two killers working in tandem is very unusual."
"But it can happen," Harris interjected.
"How about if the original killer hooked up somehow with another person," Jack suggested, "and the other person is involved only in the California murders?"
"Serial killers who work in pairs," Deeds said slowly, "usually start out together."
"I don't know about any of that, but it's a linguistic certainty that these notes were not composed by the same person," Olivia insisted. "I'd stake my reputation on it."
"But they both understand the culture and history of the time, right?" Jack asked, thinking that the list of suspects capable of that kind of expertise would be very short.
"Presumably," Olivia responded.
"Okay, if we have two killers, and I'm not saying we do," Jack warned, holding up a hand to forestall any objections, "that means the UNSUB picked up his partner here in California." Even as the words came out of his mouth, Jack knew he'd hit on something.
A partner. Here in California.
"In my county," Slater muttered.
"The second person would have to be the submissive partner," Coleman said, "and he may not know what the UNSUB did before they hooked up."
"Ted Burrows," Jack ground out, slamming away from the wall and slapping the flat of his hand against the table. "That son of a bitch knows something. I felt it during the interview. He was scared about getting caught, blustered about his rights, but I sensed something else too."
"What are you going to do?" Olivia asked.
Jack looked across the table at Slater and saw the answer in his eyes. "We're going to re-interview the little bastard."
Slater turned to Waylon Harris. "Get Burrows and bring him up to interview room two."
Olivia sat down and leaned across the table toward Jack. "I'm in on this one," she warned.
Slater intervened before Jack could speak. "She's right. We need her, especially if Burrows throws something at us that's Latin, or Roman, or whatever."
"You know it's the smart thing to do," Olivia added, looking directly at Jack. "And it's the right thing to do."
He held her gaze for what seemed like an eternity, but she narrowed her eyes and he felt the full force of her defiance. And the pleading underneath it.
Annoyed, but resigned, he looked away. "All right then, let's go."
Unlike the first interview with Theodore Burrows, Jack conducted the second one clearly as an interrogation. As was his right, Burrows had his court-appointed attorney in tow. The man looked barely out of law school, but Jack knew that underestimating the lawyer would be a mistake. Slater had explained that Arthur Landis was a vehement proponent of civil rights.
Jack figured he hadn't broken Ted's Sixth Amendment right to counsel during the previous interview since the man hadn't seriously squawked for a lawyer. With the magistrate-signed search warrant, they stood on good legal grounds. Burrows wouldn't wiggle out of prosecution on a search and seizure technicality, and the evidence at his house was damning.
With Burrows' attorney present and advising him, he might incriminate another person to cut a deal. Jack would take care to tread cautiously during this questioning.
Along with Isabella Torres, District Attorney Charles Barrington watched the interrogation through the observation window. Olivia, Slater, and Jack sat on one side of the table in this larger interview room, Burrows and his attorney opposite them. A deputy stood inside the door.
Before Slater could switch on the interview tape, Landis threw out his first objection. "Wow, we feel a little like David and Goliath," he smiled, ignoring Jack. "Really, Sheriff, four of you against two of us. Is all this police power necessary?"