“Great, thanks.” The reporter glanced toward the swiftly approaching officers and lowered his voice. “Um, why is the FBI involved?”
“Two reasons. The case presents unusual psychological aspects that have interested our Behavioral Analysis Unit. And the targeted graves are out-of-state suicides, triggering federal involvement.”
“Targeted how?”
“I regret we can’t get into details.”
“Okay, but—” By now the two cops had hooked the man by the arms and were leading him away. “Is this a serial killer?”
Instead of replying, Pendergast turned to Coldmoon, who was looking at him questioningly. Sandoval was doing the same.
“In case you are wondering,” Pendergast said, “I knew his brother well. A tragic story. Someday I shall tell you about it.”
Coldmoon nodded. He doubted he would ever hear the story, but then again, he wasn’t sure he particularly wanted to.
15
The Miami Field Office of the Federal Bureau of Investigation was one of the more prominent in the country, given its role in covering not just nine counties of Florida, but also Mexico, the Caribbean, and all of Central and South America. It was housed in a new, high-tech building of bluish glass that soared above the streets of Miramar, northwest of Miami, and it was the most spectacular field office Coldmoon had ever seen: more like a postmodernist sculpture than a federal building. He tried to tell himself he wasn’t the least intimidated.
He followed Pendergast into a second-floor conference room dominated by a mahogany table and leather chairs, interactive whiteboards and 5K flatscreens — the very latest in technology. Coldmoon wished he had his comforting thermos of camp coffee at hand. The image of the hanging heart, with its icicle of blood, had unexpectedly stayed with him since that morning.
They were early. Other agents arrived — most from the Miami office — with nods and murmurs and took their places. After everyone was accounted for and the clock crept past three minutes to the hour, the door opened and Assistant Director in Charge Walter Pickett strode in, followed by a curious, shuffling man in horn-rimmed glasses and a baggy suit, more like a librarian than an FBI agent. Pickett went directly to the head of the table, dropped a stack of folders and, not bothering to sit, said: “Greetings, ladies and gentlemen.”
The man was, as usual, impeccably dressed and groomed, the very picture of an FBI agent. He radiated confidence, coolness, and enough self-assurance to fill a room.
“I’d like to introduce you to Dr. Milton Mars, specialist in charge of Behavioral Analysis Unit Four. He will shortly present a psychological profile of the perpetrator. But first, I want to run through what we have on the latest killing.”
With admirable efficiency he briefed them on the murder of Jennifer Rosen. Based on the forensic analysis, it appeared to be a homicide of opportunity, quickly and expertly accomplished, with almost nothing in terms of real evidence left behind. He then moved on to the receiver of the heart.
“Agatha Brodeur Flayley was found hanging from a bridge in Ithaca, New York, on a visit to Cornell University, where she was applying for a job. It seems the interview did not go especially well; all evidence pointed to suicide, and it was ruled such by the local coroner’s office. We have his report to this effect. She was unmarried, and her body was interred in the Flayley vault here in Miami, under the provisions of a long-established family trust. We’re still assembling background on her.” He paused. “Miami Homicide has, naturally, been looking for any links between the new murder victims and the prior suicides. We have found none. I think we can proceed under the assumption that the killer may be selecting suicide victims, but at random, with no other connection, historical or otherwise.”
A low chorus of agreement; several nods. Coldmoon, too, couldn’t imagine how the decade-old suicides could be related to the recent murders. He glanced at Pendergast, but saw nothing save the usual masklike expression.
“And now, Dr. Mars?”
The man in the horn-rims stood up and gave a friendly nod around the room. “You are all no doubt familiar with ViCAP, the FBI’s Violent Criminal Apprehension Program. It houses the Behavioral Analysis Unit’s main database.” The man’s nasal voice was curiously strong even in the large room.
“Human behavior falls into patterns. No behavior is truly unique. The ViCAP database covers all known serial killers: MO, victim data, crime scene descriptions, laboratory reports, criminal history records, statements, psychological analyses — in short, everything associated with every crime. By plugging the facts we know about a given serial killer into the database, we can often extrapolate the facts we don’t know. We’ve done this with Brokenhearts — who, admittedly, is one death short of technically being labeled a serial killer — and I will now present you with the results. Please feel free to interrupt me with questions.”
There was a rustling, notebooks coming out and tablets being woken up. This was where the rubber met the road.
“Our psychological analysis indicates that, despite surface impressions to the contrary, Brokenhearts is a highly organized killer. He selects the place, not the victims. He waits in that place, having mapped out his actions in detail beforehand. To frustrate video-camera identification, he chooses areas where many people are coming and going. When a victim arrives at the location, he completes the pre-choreographed crime with notable boldness. He is confident enough to kill in high-traffic areas, and to travel some distance to the site where he intends to place the heart.
“The killing is done swiftly, with two different bladed instruments. The throat is cut; the breastbone is split; and the heart is severed from the arteries — all with a notable lack of tentativeness. This implies a practiced action.
“This type of killer is of what we call the ritualistic type. The motivation usually involves a religious fixation, often with the Devil, Satan, God, or Jesus. The killer is likely schizophrenic, hearing voices that he interprets to be from a good or evil divinity, urging specific action. The killer has grandiose visions of his place in the world, and thus feels compelled to perform certain actions. He is almost invariably physically fit and, in this case, very likely under the age of twenty-five. He is male. Contrary to popular belief, he is in control of his actions. He is not compelled to kill; he does it voluntarily, and could stop if he found reason to do so.”
The man pushed his glasses up his nose. “The murderer uses the same implements for each killing, which he guards carefully when not in use. While the victims are female, there is no evidence the killing was done for libidinous purposes.”
There was a short silence at this bit of information.
“There are other characteristics we can infer. He lives alone. He owns a car. He has no girlfriends or sexual partners. He most likely has no criminal record. He appears more or less normal to his neighbors. Significantly, killers of this type almost invariably suffered severe childhood abuse — sexual, psychological, and/or physical — at the hands of a close relative, usually a father. Maternal abandonment is also a strong background characteristic. Sometimes, the killer comes from an unusually severe religious or cultish family background involving forced, ritual-like actions that must be performed with great precision — otherwise, punishment will result. The killings then reprise these early experiences.”
“And such killers often thrive on attention,” Pickett added, “so let’s not give him any. It’s bad enough that gossip about his leaving the hearts on suicide graves is starting to leak out — we’re not sure, but we think we have the City of Miami caretaker to thank for that. So let’s keep a lid on other details: the content of his notes, his name, everything.”