Devoted in Death (7 page)

“We’ll need more data on the victim, a better sense of him and those around him. But if this was random – not personal – it’s very possible you have a team.”

That clicked, just clicked for her. “Romantically, sexually linked, initials
D
and
E
, who get off on torture and murder.”

“I need more data,” Mira began, “but if the victim was specifically targeted, you’d look for someone who wanted to humiliate and terrorize, while having complete control. If Dorian Kuper was chosen randomly, and this is where I lean with the current data, you would still look for a sadist, one who uses both the symbolic sadism of cutting off the hair, as well as the infliction of pain while the victim is bound and helpless.”

“The heart changes it. The signature changes it,” Eve insisted.

“Perhaps. If this is a couple then it’s highly likely they are sexual sadists who use this humiliation, this control, this infliction of pain as sexual stimulus – which they use for each other rather than the victim. There’s no piquerism,” she murmured. “No stabbing of the breasts, the buttocks, no mutilation of genitals, no rape. The variance in wounds, in tools…”

She broke off and, as Eve often did, circled around the board, the office. “Most usually you’d expect a dominant and a submissive. One to inflict the pain, one to watch. Or one to order the submission to inflict the pain. But, at this preliminary stage, it may be they are a true couple, a team of equal power and authority.”

“It has to be planned out – not impulse. Had to have the place – private place to torture this vic for two days. The transportation, the tools.”

“Predatory psychopath – or psychopaths – who plan, even rehearse. Sadists who enjoy and are stimulated by inflicting pain. Lust murder perhaps. The death and dying he or they cause brings intense pleasure. The heart symbolizes love, unity. They believe themselves in love, and the victim is a gift to each other.”

“I don’t know if Kuper’s the first – we’re running like crimes – but he won’t be the last. Predators have to hunt. Sadists need victims. And lovers, if we’re dealing with that, need that sexual rush.”

“Agreed. It is possible that, while the heart is a signature, a symbol, the killer romanticizes his kill, the victim. It may be a single predator, lacking the sexual drive and component. A romantic. I’m sorry I can’t be more definitive.”

“No, I’ve got clear avenues to pursue. And we’ll have more data once we pull in friends, coworkers. We’ll know more when we get something from IRCCA. I’ll send you a report once I have enough to put together. Thanks for the time.”

“Paid in full by the coffee.” She handed Eve the empty cup, then smiled. “You look well rested. I can’t say that often.”

“I had days to do pretty much nothing but lie around.”

“You earned it. None of us will forget how we spent the last day of the year anytime soon. Keep me in the loop,” she added, with another glance at the board before she left. “I very much want to profile this one.”

Alone, Eve sat to write up her preliminary report, to start the murder book, to refine the board. She added Morris’s report when it came through, then glanced up when she heard the clomp of Peabody’s fuzzy-topped boots.

“I’ve got the first of the interviews coming in,” she reported. “I staggered them by thirty minutes. I was able to pull in Chamberlin. He talked the vic’s mother into taking a tranq, and activated Maeve the droid to stay with her. He’s pretty anxious to talk to you, so I put him first.”

“Good. Always good to talk to the top guy. Now if they’d just send me – Finally,” she said when her computer signaled incoming. “IRCCA results. Computer, on screen.”

Peabody edged in as the data began to scroll.

“Holy shit, Dallas, that’s a lot of like crimes.”

“Computer, remove any closed cases. Remove any result that includes sexual assault, mutilation or rape.”

Leaning back, Eve lifted her eyebrows. “That takes it down. Computer, highlight all results with the element of a heart carved or burned into the body.”

Those brows lowered and knit when twenty highlighted.

“Results with the initials
D
and
E
carved or burned into the body.”

“I repeat, Dallas. Holy shit.”

“Twenty,” Eve stated. “Twenty from Tennessee to New Jersey. Males, females, an assortment of races, ages. No specific type. First one’s last September. It averages about one a week, but…”

“Some gaps,” Peabody commented. “A couple weeks between some, or ten days, then see how it escalates in Ohio, Pennsylvania to two a week, then it drops off again.”

“Because there’s more than twenty.”

“More?”

“A predator like this? Once they get a taste they need more, and like a junkie they start to need faster. Destroyed some of the bodies?” Eve speculated. “Concealed them, buried them? Maybe tried something different so it doesn’t pop here, but it’s more likely they concealed, destroyed. Killed a few nobody’s looking for. A vagrant, an itinerant worker, a sidewalk sleeper.”

“The
D
doesn’t apply to the vic after all.”

“No.
E
and
D
, just a couple of crazy kids in love. Computer, display route pattern by victim, chronologically.”

Working…

“The first one here,” Eve began while the computer analyzed, “in September, in Nashville. Female, early twenties, missing for fifty-six hours. Found dead in an unoccupied home by the real-estate agent and a potential buyer.”

“I bet that dropped the asking price.”

“Ha. She’d been dead for about twenty-eight hours. Didn’t spend as long with her. No unidentified prints or DNA at the crime scene.

“She wasn’t their first.”

Task complete
, the computer announced.

“Display on screen.” Eve watched the route form, point by point, death by death.

“Some winding around,” Peabody noted, “but pretty much heading northeast.”

“A couple short detours.” Maybe taking in some points of interest, Eve speculated, maybe visiting friends. “You might have to take a quick side trip for your fun. Is New York the destination, or just another point on the route?”

Insufficient data to reach conclusion.

“I wasn’t asking you. Computer, copy all data to my home unit, to Detective Peabody’s home and office unit. Peabody, start contacting primary investigators on these cases – and find out if the FBI’s nosed in, and if so, get the agent in charge.”

“I’ll start on that. Chamberlin’s going to be here any minute.”

“I’ll take him. Did you book a room?”

“You’ve got Interview A, for six hours if you want it.”

She only nodded. “Dorian Kuper didn’t know his killer. He was just next in line. But maybe we’ll find out something. I’ll start the interviews. You get the data. Let me know when you’ve got all you can get. Have Chamberlin put in Interview A if he comes in before I’m out. I need five minutes. Shit. Ten.”

She banged out a report to Mira – she’d report to her commander as soon as she could, but wanted Mira to have the new data. Before she’d finished, she heard a brisk clip coming her way.

Not Peabody, she thought, lighter step, better shoes.

Baxter.

And when she glanced over, mildly annoyed, Baxter stepped into her doorway.

“Got a few minutes?”

“I’m a little pressed here.” She finished the report as she spoke, sent it.

“Yeah, I see that.” He glanced at her board, her screen. “Fuck me. The same?”

“I haven’t had a chance to run probability, but I’m going to say it’s high. I’ve got somebody coming into interview, Baxter, make it fast.”

“It can wait.”

If she didn’t make time for her men, she might be a good investigator, but she’d be a lousy boss.

“Spill it. I’ve got a few.”

“It’s just… Trueheart’s going in for the detective’s exam in a couple days.”

“Yeah. I’ve got it marked. Is there a problem?”

“No. Maybe. No.”

Eve sat back. Baxter stood with his hands in his pockets, jiggling whatever was in them. It wasn’t his usual style. She waited.

“I pushed him, you know. I really leaned on him to apply – and I nudged at you to clear it.”

“I didn’t clear it because you nudged me.”

“So he’s ready?”

“Have you got any reason to think otherwise?”

“No. I mean he’s sweating it some. You have to sweat it some. He’s been studying. I’ve been grilling him.”

The jiggling stopped, started up again. Eve let it play out.

“He’s got good instincts, LT, and a hell of a work ethic. He’s a damn good cop. He’s still got some green on him, but he’s never going to lose all of it. It’s part of what makes him the kind of damn good cop he is. It’s just – I really pushed him to try for detective.”

“Do you think, if he didn’t feel ready, he’d try for it just to make you happy?”

Baxter opened his mouth, then blew out a breath. “No. He doesn’t push that easy, not anymore. It’s me. Jesus, boss, it’s me. I haven’t had a decent night sleep since – well, since we all nearly blew up. I figured it was because we all nearly blew up, but it’s not. Hell, you get used to nearly buying it somehow or another on the job. I don’t want to let the kid down.”

“Then relax, you haven’t. I wondered when I hooked him to you how it would go. He needed some of the dew wiped off. And you wiped it off without taking away what makes him. You’ve trained him, Baxter, and you helped make him a damn good cop. If he doesn’t make detective this time, all it means is he’s not ready for it. If he does, and it’s more likely, I figure you’re going to ask me to assign him as your partner. And that’s what I’ll do, but I’m also going to tell you if, at some point, you want to train another, I’ll put that through. You’re better at it than I thought you’d be.”

“Okay. Okay. Appreciate it. You know, I wasn’t this tied up when I went for my own detective’s shield.”

“Because you were cocksure of yourself. Are you on anything hot?”

“No. We had an open and closed first thing this morning. I thought we’d review a few open and unsolveds, keep his brain turned on sharp.”

“I may have something else that would do that. Go ahead and start a review. If this turns out how it looks, I’ve got plenty to keep his brain sharp. Now beat it.”

“Beating it.”

“Baxter? If somebody’s not a damn good cop, they don’t stay in my division.”

He nodded, relaxed a bit. “Thanks, LT.”

As he walked away, she took another minute to sit, to study the board, to think of Dorian Kuper.

Then she pushed away from her desk and started out. Peabody turned into the bull pen as Eve turned out.

“Good timing. I just put Chamberlin in Interview A. He’s in pretty rough shape himself, Dallas.”

“I might get more out of him that way. Mira’s got the data now. You should write up a report for Whitney. And don’t say
Me?
in that stupid tone,” Eve warned. “You know how to write a damn report, and it’ll save me the time. Contact all the primaries you can manage, and we’ll go over that when I’m done with the interviews. If you need any help, tap Baxter and Trueheart. They’re clear, just reviewing some open and unsolveds.”

“Ellysa Tesh – violin – should be here in thirty.”

“I’ll take her after Chamberlin. Let’s keep it moving.”

She found Chamberlin sitting in Interview A, his hands folded on the scarred table. Exhausted eyes shifted from his hands to Eve’s face.

“I need to get back to Mina as soon as possible.”

“I won’t keep you long. I’m going to record this interview. Record on,” she ordered. “Dallas, Lieutenant Eve in interview with Chamberlin, Ethan. Mr. Chamberlin, I’m going to advise you of your rights. This is procedure.”

“It wouldn’t be the first time.”

Eve read off the Revised Miranda.

“I understand, and I don’t want some damn lawyer. Am I a suspect?”

“Right now we’re gathering information. I think you can help us with that. You worked with Dorian, and are, I believe, in a relationship with his mother.”

“Mina and I have been in a committed, monogamous relationship for a number of years.”

“You don’t live together.”

“We both enjoy our separate spaces. Dorian… Dorian was the world to her. It’s a cliché, I’m aware, but it’s the truth that he was like a son to me. If we had disagreements they were always over the music. He has – had – such tremendous talent. With such talent comes opinions.”

He nearly smiled; it nearly reached his eyes. “Now and again those opinions proved better than mine. Not often, but now and again.”

“You’ve got a temper, Mr. Chamberlin.”

“That’s right. I’ve paid my share of fines, done the anger management bullshit. Screw it.” He flicked that away with a dramatic sweep of his hand. “It’s my passion and temper that make me great. It’s my passion and temper that make every musician I work with perform brilliantly. Because I demand it.”

“And if they’re not brilliant enough, you break their piccolo.”

“I’ve been known to.” He shrugged it off. “If someone doesn’t perform brilliantly, they don’t deserve to be in my orchestra.”

As she’d said essentially the same to Baxter about her cops, Eve could find no fault there. “Did you ever bust up Dorian’s cello?”

“Dorian was always brilliant. The world’s lesser for the loss of him. Lieutenant…”

He gripped his hands together again until the knuckles went white. “Please don’t allow Mina to see him until he’s… She told me he’d been tortured, and if there are physical signs —” He broke off, looked away for a moment. “Please don’t let her see him until he’s been made… I don’t want what was done to him to be her last memory of him. I know exceptional makeup artists.”

“You can trust Dr. Morris – the medical examiner – on this.”

“I don’t know this Morris.”

“I do. You can trust him.”

His gaze arrowed back, pinned hers. “If Dorian isn’t – if he doesn’t look as he should, I’ll hold this Morris, and you, responsible.”

“Understood. Accepted.”