Anatomy (3 page)

Thankfully, Ruben’s cellphone vibrated on his belt.
“Torres,” he answered with a bark. He would be grateful for any interruption
that ended this performance. As Ruben listened, he became more and more
grateful.

“Got it.” He snapped his phone closed. “They’ve brought in
Munz and, once again, he does not have an alibi for the time of capture.” He
gave a sharp nod to the profiler. “You, of course, are welcome to join us in his
interrogation. They are bringing him in as we speak.”

“Naw,” Harbinger said. “I think I’m going to recreate the
captures instead, but thanks.”

Well, that was a welcome relief. Ruben felt certain that the
profiler would want to tag along, if for nothing more than to disrupt the
interview as thoroughly as he had the crime scene.

Ruben turned away from the profiler and headed toward the
car. He was a good six steps away when he realized he was alone. Ruben looked
to Nicole, who wouldn’t meet his eye. “Something wrong?”

“I just…” Nicole glanced up, but only held eye contact for a
fleeting moment. “I think I’m going to stay to see the direction that Harbinger
is going.” She rushed on. “Just for a few minutes. I’ll join you at the
station.”

Had Nicole just punch him in the gut? Because that was
exactly what it felt like. And the profiler certainly seemed to agree, as a
cat-that-ate-the-canary grin spread. Ruben wasn’t so insecure that he was
worried. He shouldn’t be worried, should he? Of course not.

Pulling his tie out from his shirt, where it had been
protected from the gore of the scene, Ruben shrugged. “See you soon, then.”

It was time to prove the profiler wrong.

Nicole watched Ruben stalk away. He didn’t even look back as
he opened his car door and got inside. She felt bad, knowing that he would see
her interest in the profiler’s methods as some sort of betrayal. Ruben was big
on loyalty.
Really
big on loyalty. Sometimes, though, it seemed he
wanted blind loyalty. All for one and one for all. Where did that leave her,
though?

With six dead, didn’t they owe it to the victims to explore
every possible lead? Even one as bizarre as the one the profiler suggested? To
her, the next five minutes represented an investment not only in the case but
in her career.

She turned to find the profiler already halfway down the
alley. Nicole glanced back over her shoulder as Ruben revved the car. Was it
her imagination, or was he stalling in the hope that she would join him?
Instead, she gave a wave. Nicole wasn’t sure if he’d seen it or not, as Ruben
pulled the car away from the curb and peeled out down the street.

“Well?” Harbinger asked. “That internet café isn’t going to
seduce potential victims all by itself.”

Trotting to catch up, Nicole noticed that the profiler
ducked under the crime scene tape, but didn’t bother to lift it for her. Not
exactly the gentleman. Though Harbinger seemed quite keen to analyze everyone
around him, that didn’t mean she couldn’t gain some insight into his character
as well.

Dipping under the tape, Nicole followed the profiler as he
turned left out of the alley and onto the main street. Half a dozen doors down,
he opened the door of an internet café. Bowing, he waved her in.

It was eerie. Almost as if he’d heard her thoughts about his
lack of chivalry. She passed by him and entered the café. The denizens were of
a motley sort. Some looked homeless while, strangely, others seemed like they
had just left work at one of the high-rises a few blocks away.

Harbinger pointed to a woman’s shoes. “Those would be work
heels.”

Nicole couldn’t argue. Since all of the victims had been
found with only their shoes left on, they had of course thought them to be
significant, however it had never occurred to any of them that the victims had
been dressed to impress. Given the discrepancy in the victim’s income levels,
it was easy to miss. However, no matter how broke a woman was, she usually
found a way to have a “date” pair of shoes. They may have been from a Salvation
Army store, but they were date-worthy.

Damn it,
she
should have caught that. On the job,
there were few times when being a chick came in handy. This should have been
one of them.

The profiler sat down in front of a computer. Nicole waited,
but he didn’t type.

“We’re pre-pay only,” the clerk said from behind the
counter.

Nicole looked to Harbinger, but he was certainly not
reaching for his wallet. She walked over and handed the clerk a twenty. “I’m
going to need a receipt for that.”

Once she was sure that she had something to give the
reimbursement department, Nicole rejoined the profiler, who was already typing
away. Why wasn’t she surprised that he already had a screen name?
DrkLvr
.
Harbinger didn’t waste any time as he popped into a chat room. His eyes scanned
down the right hand bar, studying the avatars.

“So which one should I lure first?” he asked.

“
Try
to lure,” Nicole corrected.

Harbinger grinned. “Sure.
Try
.”

The profiler’s cockiness should have put her off, but it
didn’t. She wasn’t sure if she wanted him to prove her wrong or if she wanted
to watch him fail. Each seemed like an equally interesting proposition.

He nodded toward the screen again. “Which one?”

Her eyes darted from the avatars to the chat room, but the
profiler put his hands in front of the screen. “Oh, no. No cheating. You can
tell everything you need to from the avatars.” Nicole leaned in to study them
more closely. “I will give you a hint,” the profiler said. “There are three
good candidates, but one is just begging to get lured.”

Was Harbinger just making this up? Setting her up to fail?
Sliding her eyes over, she watched as he studied the avatars. His expression
seemed sincere. More than sincere. Intense. Like a predator watching his prey from
the bushes.

Nicole pointed to
Happy420
,
whose avatar had a
marijuana leaf behind a smiley face. Not too creative. “How about him?”

“He is a lurker,” the profiler explained. “Way too much of a
slacker to actually leave his bong and meet up with someone.”

“How about
SexyMomma
?” Nicole asked, pointing to the
cartoon figure of Jessica Rabbit with an apron on.

“Your seduction muscles really are out of shape,” Harbinger
commented as he pointed to the screen. “Desperation is like a bouquet. It has a
scent, a feel, a look to it.” He read off three user names. “
HopelessRom
,
WrkOnWood
, and
MelissaOTK
.”

Nicole looked to each of them. The first had a
heavily-airbrushed white rose avatar, the second had a graphic of a woodworking
shop, and the other was a picture of a rather attractive woman. “I get the
first two, I guess, but what about Melissa? She doesn’t look desperate at all.”

Harbinger chuckled as Nicole sat down next to him. “Because
Melissa doesn’t look like that at all. My guess? Add ten years, a hundred pounds,
and seven years’ bad luck to get an accurate picture.”

“But won’t anyone she meets recognize the fact that she
completely lied about her appearance?”

“Detective, we are in a sex chat room. Lying is their form
of currency. Lying to each other. Lying to their spouses. Lying to themselves.”

Nicole still wasn’t satisfied, though. “If her intent is to
find a sex partner, isn’t she sabotaging herself?”

“Oh, you really have lived a sheltered life,” the profiler
sighed. “She is betting on the fact that anyone she meets will be so, let us
say, revved up, that they won’t care what she looks like.”

Wow, that
was
pretty desperate.

A ding came from the computer, and a request to join a
private chat room opened up, from none other than
MelissaOTK
. The
profiler didn’t even have to say “I told you so.” His smirk did it for him.

Harbinger’s fingers flew over the keyboard. “Over your knee
or mine?” Nicole was certain her confusion showed up on her face. The profiler
explained. “Oh, and another hint was the OTK part of her screen name. Over.
The. Knee.”

So Harbinger wasn’t psychic, he just knew the chat room
lingo. Nicole didn’t feel quite as much like the dunce in the corner sporting
the tall cone hat. Letters flew across the screen as Melissa responded. “How
about we alternate?”

To Nicole’s surprise, Kent didn’t go along with that.
Instead he typed out, “Sorry. Too much of a top for that.”

“I thought we wanted to lure her?” Nicole asked.

The profiler angled his body toward her. “We don’t just
think about the serial killer’s motives. We think like the serial killer. Act
like the serial killer.”

The intensity of Harbinger’s gaze took her off guard. Nicole
had to suppress another gulp. But if anything, she was a quick learner. “The
killer needs someone malleable. Someone he can manipulate.”

Then it hit her. The lack of defensive wounds. The lack of
heavy restraint marks. Not all of that was because of the paralytics. The
victims must have willingly submitted to the bondage, unaware that they were
playing into a serial killer’s dark fantasy.

“He’s picking submissives,” Nicole blurted out.

Harbinger nodded. “I noticed a distinct lack of discussion
regarding that aspect of the victimology in Mr. Handshake’s report.”

Actually, it was worse than that. Ruben was dead set against
the notion that these killings were sexually motivated. He was so sure that the
killer’s entire emphasis was on sadism. The concept had never quite sat right
with her, however she had had nothing to back up her instinct. Until now.

Melissa’s response popped up. “Intriguing. So UR more
Marquis than Don Quixote?”

“Marquis de Sade?” Harbinger typed. “In my eyes a man not
very creative and in my mind a tad bit lazy. Don’t we think my fingers could
accomplish so much more than IM’ing?”

Nicole shifted uncomfortably in her chair. She was no prude
by any means, but this was feeling a bit too much like being a voyeur, even if
the profiler’s part in it wasn’t real. Right? This was an act. A ruse. It had
to be, right?

Before she could decide, Melissa’s answer appeared. “I will
only meet in a public place.”

“Then onward to something a little more private?” Harbinger
responded.

“We will see…”

The profiler leaned back. “Yeah, right,” he said, then
typed, “Do you know the Decadence Café?”

Melissa’s answer was nearly instantaneous. “Intimately.”

Harbinger raised an eyebrow at Nicole as he typed. “10pm.”
The profiler didn’t even wait for a response. He logged off, then pushed the
keyboard away from him. “And that is how it is done.”

It couldn’t be that easy, could it? Was he really that
skilled at luring, or had he just gotten lucky? Nicole was pretty sure she knew
the answer, but she wanted confirmation.

“And how about luring a man?” Nicole questioned.

Harbinger’s eyes scanned over her face. Her skin felt like
it was encoded with Braille. How much could the profiler read? Then the
inspection was over, as Harbinger laced his fingers together and then cracked
them. “Watch and learn.”

The profiler logged into yet another account.
Mr9x5
.
Nicole cocked her head. “That seems a bit…mild,” she noted.

“Those aren’t hours I am referring to,” Harbinger stated as
he found a male-male chat room. “They are inches.”

“Inches of —” Nicole stopped herself, unfortunately
understanding the part of the body he was measuring. She was certain her cheeks
were a ruddy pink. And they did not cool down any as Harbinger launched into
his domination of the room. The men were lined up to join him.

Then, in rapid succession, the profiler switched accounts,
hopping into chat room after chat room. He set up
ménages
. He set up
foursomes. He even found someone who thought a monkey in a matador’s costume
sounded like a good idea.

“I think you’ve made your point,” Nicole conceded.

“I do like to be thorough,” Harbinger answered then angled
the keyboard toward her. “So? Your turn?”

Nicole pushed back from the object like it was a
rattlesnake, not even caring that her face was probably showing every bit of
revulsion she felt. Her head shook back and forth. “No, I’m good.”

* * *

Kent watched the detective sputter for a few more moments,
not even listening to her words. They were meaningless. Her expressions,
however, were fascinating. To watch her go from panic, to rejection, to her
eyes flickering over to the keyboard. Did she even realize that her feet had
changed position and were now pointing toward him rather than toward the door?
Funny how people did not know what they truly wanted.

The body, though? The body knew. Her eyes were dilated
slightly. Her eyelids wide. Her lips slightly parted. She was ready to take in
whatever came next. Did she even know that her fingers were twitching slightly?
Getting ready to type?

“You know you want to,” Kent coaxed, inching the keyboard
toward her.

Nicole blinked once, then stared down at the keys. “I
wouldn’t know how.”

“What do they say?” Kent made sure his tone was silky
smooth. He did not want to intrude on the conversation going on in the
detective’s head. She was doing more to convince herself than he ever could.
“Practice makes perfect.”

She leaned forward ever so slightly, but to Kent she might
as well have jumped up and down, shouting how eager she was to start. He didn’t
say a word as her hands reached out and her fingertips hovered over the
keyboard.

“How do I start?” she asked, licking her lips.

Kent was impressed. Most would not dare to follow where he
tread. Before her conscious mind could convince her otherwise, Kent clicked the
mouse and brought up one of his female personas,
MissJustRight
.