Deadly Dance (14 page)

It was like trying to swim through a fierce current. The harder she tried, the deeper she was dragged, until there was no more air to breathe. With a sigh, she let go, realizing that Professor Marshall had been right—the man who’d killed Sara Lauter was going to kill again.

Hannah stood in the doorway of the war room, trying to calm her nerves. Inside, huddled together over the
computer, stood Harrison with two beautiful women. One the blonde all-American type and the other a statuesque black woman with full lips and perfectly carved cheekbones.

The kind of women men went wild over.

She shook her head, embarrassed by her jealousy. She and Harrison had slept together. A one-night stand to relieve pressure. They’d both entered into the liaison willingly, and neither of them had made promises they couldn’t keep. It was just the way she liked things.

Except that this morning, when she’d awoken to an empty bed, she’d felt a profound sense of loss. A gut-level ache that she wasn’t willing to examine too closely. And now, standing here watching him flirt with the two women, the pain was even more acute.

Damn it all to hell—she hadn’t fallen for the man. She couldn’t. She wouldn’t.

Squaring her shoulders, Hannah walked into the room. Avery was standing in the corner, on his cellphone, and Simon and Drake were huddled over the same files Drake had been culling last night. Upon seeing Hannah, Avery snapped the phone shut and, with a quick nod, headed for the front of the room.

“Now that everyone’s here,” he said, “we’ll get started.”

The blonde looked up from the computer, her face classically lovely. But there was a spark of something else there. A strength that Hannah couldn’t help but admire. This woman was more than the skin she wore.

With a warm smile for Harrison, she moved from behind the computer desk, her stomach preceding her. Madison Roarke was at least five months pregnant. Hannah hated the fact that she felt an acute sense of relief.
Where the hell was her pride? She’d slept with the guy, not married him.

“So before we begin, let me officially introduce our guests,” Avery said, as everyone gathered around the table.

Harrison was sitting between the two women, his attention, as usual, on his computer. He had yet to make eye contact. And real or imagined, Hannah could feel the tension radiating between them. This was why it was a stupid idea to sleep with a colleague.

“Special Agent Madison Roarke.” Avery gestured toward the blonde. “And forensic pathologist Tracy Braxton. We really appreciate your coming on such short notice.”

“Anything for Harrison,” Madison said, with another fond smile. “And besides, this is what we do. Although usually with a full team.” Madison worked with the Behavioral Analysis Unit, a group within the FBI dedicated to profiling and tracking serial killers.

“Hey, you’ve got Harrison and me. What more do you need?” Tracy’s eyes danced with amusement. “It’s like old home week. Not sure it gets any better than that.”

Again, Hannah felt the surge of jealousy. She’d known, of course, that Harrison had had a life before A-Tac, but somehow it hadn’t seemed to matter. But now, faced with the reality of these two women, both of them clearly close to Harrison, she wasn’t at all comfortable with the idea. Harrison belonged with A-Tac. They were family.

Not to mention the intimacy of the night before.

As if reading her mind, Harrison looked up, his expression unreadable, but the small smile at the corner of his lips twisted her stomach, her pheromones not the
least bit interested in the logic that she shouldn’t let herself get any more involved.

Love caused pain. Period. It had destroyed her when she was young, and then she’d faced a different sort of loss with Jason’s death. She wasn’t willing to go there again. Which meant that Harrison’s defection this morning should have pleased her. It just made it easier to pretend that nothing had happened, but somehow her heart hadn’t gotten the memo.

“Actually, it can be better,” Harrison was saying. “You’ve also got A-Tac on your side. And trust me when I say, it doesn’t get any better than these guys.” He smiled at her then, the warmth in his eyes almost her undoing. At least they were still friends.

“As much as I appreciate the accolades,” Avery said, “we’ve got a killer out there. And if I understand correctly, Madison can’t afford more than a couple of days with us. So we need to hit the ground running.”

“So what have you got?” Drake asked, pushing back in his chair so that it was propped on two legs as he leaned back against the wall. He and Simon were watching the two newcomers warily. And Hannah suppressed a smile. Some things at least hadn’t changed, the alpha males clearly marking their territory.

“Not as much as I’d like,” Madison said. “Right now, you’ve got what appears to be an isolated incident. Which makes it harder to profile. But there are certain tells that would seem to point to the fact that this isn’t the killer’s first time around the block.”

“Meaning you think he’s killed before?” Simon asked, his gaze speculative.

“Yes. I do.” Madison nodded, standing up to move
to the front of the room, her hand resting protectively against her swollen belly. “People don’t just jump into this kind of organized sadistic torture. They work their way up to it.”

“So have you found anything that looks like this guy’s warm-up act?” Simon asked, his gaze moving to Harrison.

“No. Nothing in the area,” Harrison replied. “Which makes the whole thing a little bit weirder. These guys usually don’t stray very far from their comfort zone. So you’d expect to find something local with a similar MO. Or at least some sign of a killer building his fantasy. But so far, we haven’t found anything.”

“What about widening the search radius?” Avery asked. “I know these guys like to keep to their own backyards, but in our business, sometimes it’s all about the exception.”

“Well, profiling works off of predicting behavior. But I agree there are always people who fall outside the parameters,” Madison agreed.

“Unfortunately, the only parallel we found when we widened the search was the cyber killer,” Tracy said, her voice low and husky. Sexy. Hannah shook her head—angry at the train of her thoughts. She wasn’t in the running for Harrison. And even if she was, every other woman wouldn’t automatically be competition.

“The guy that killed Harrison’s sister?” Simon asked, eyebrows raising. “But wasn’t that like nine years ago? I mean, isn’t it weird for someone like that to suddenly resurface after all this time?”

“It’s rare, but not unheard of,” Madison said. “Sometimes there are extenuating circumstances. An unsub
winds up in prison. Or some change in his life prevents his continuing to kill. Or maybe something happens to relieve the stressor. Most of these guys are reacting to something negative that happened in their lives. Sometimes real, sometimes imagined. Then when something happens to change any of those circumstances—”

“Like being released from jail,” Drake prompted.

“Exactly.” Madison nodded. “In that case, they’re free to resume.”

“So if this guy found something to tame the beast, so to speak,” Hannah said, “and then for some reason that situation changed, he could be right back where he started.”

“Sometimes it’s even worse,” Madison added. “But we don’t think this is the work of the cyber killer.”

“What about the photograph on Sara’s computer?” Hannah asked. “Surely that would indicate a connection to the cyber killer.”

“A connection, yes, but nothing that links concretely to the actual killer,” Madison said, as Harrison brought the photograph up on the overhead screen. “Anyone could have taken this. At any time.”

“But the black and white and the crime scene tape—” Hannah began, but Harrison interrupted.

“I analyzed the digital image early this morning and couldn’t find anything that proves it’s an old shot. But I also couldn’t find any evidence of tampering either. Which indicates it wasn’t photoshopped. So it could be the real deal. Or someone could have physically staged the shot. There’s just no way to verify for certain.”

“Do we know if the house still exists?” Simon asked.

“It does,” Tracy nodded. “And the appearance, especially at night, is still pretty much the same.”

Harrison hit a key on the computer, and a second photo came up next to the first. “As you can see, when I adjust for darkness and switch to black and white, it could easily pass for nine years ago. Even the tree is similar enough to provide doubt.”

“And besides,” Madison said, “even nine years ago, anyone could have taken a photo at the scene. It was a busy block in Marble Falls, Texas. And although the actual scene was closed off, the street wasn’t.”

“So if our killer took the shot, he could have taken it any time after the murder,” Drake said. “And it would still look as if he’d been there in the moment.”

“Or it’s possible someone else took it, and somehow our killer got his hands on it,” Madison offered. “Finding something like that can often act as a trigger.”

“Then we’re saying it’s a copycat.” Avery’s words were a statement, not a question.

“I think it’s possible.” Madison absently rubbed the top of her belly, clearly ordering her thoughts. “There are definite similarities between this murder and the ones committed by the cyber killer. Particularly the ritual, which for both apparently involves two stages. The bedroom where the victim was sexually assaulted and killed. And a second scene in the cellar where the victim was strung up crucifixion-style. But there are also definite differences.”

“Like?” Simon asked, leaning forward, palms on the table. An ex-SEAL, Simon was a cut-to-the-chase kind of guy.

“Well, for starters,” Tracy said, “the knife wounds from your vic were administered postmortem. The cyber killer used his scalpel to inflict torture. Every slice was
designed to produce maximum pain without threatening death.”

“Sadistic bastard,” Drake mumbled under his breath.

“And then some,” Madison agreed. “But Tracy’s right. That kind of act, that kind of anger, isn’t something that goes away. If he were back, I’d expect the anger to have escalated, not diminished. And certainly not to have disappeared altogether. There’s pleasure derived from postmortem disfigurement, but it’s not the same as the kind elicited from torturing someone.”

“And in addition to that,” Tracy said, “this unsub slit his victim’s throat in a way that guaranteed instant death. Sara died within seconds. The cyber killer, on the other hand, had refined his cutting so that the victim bled out slowly in an effort to continue the torture. There were also two other deviations physically.”

“The original killer gained access to the women’s homes without any sign of forced entry,” Harrison said.

“Which means he had social skills our new unsub is lacking,” Tracy added. “According to my preliminary examination, I’d say that Sara Lauter was drugged. I’ve ordered a tox screen to confirm, but the signs are pretty clear.”

“So the only way he could subdue her was to drug her.”

“It seems likely.” Tracy nodded. “And there’s one more big difference. The original killer raped his victims. It was a power play. A way to show his dominance. But this guy isn’t into that.”

“But Sara was sexually assaulted,” Hannah said. “I saw it in the report.”

“Yes, she was.” Tracy nodded. “But not in the usual way you think of rape. The vaginal tearing and bruising
of the labia indicate that Sara was assaulted with an inanimate object. Something fairly large with a sharp end.”

Hannah swallowed rising bile, her mind conjuring the image of the bright young woman she’d had in class.

“I’ve got people at the scene now, checking to see if maybe we missed something. But my guess is that the unsub took whatever it was with him. This guy was nothing if not careful.”

“Jesus, I can’t believe we’re sitting around talking about this stuff.” Simon blew out a breath and pushed back from the table, arms crossed as he studied Tracy and Madison. “How the hell do you guys deal with this kind of thing day in and day out?”

“Same way you deal with the fallout from terrorism, drug cartels, nuclear bombs—all the things you’re called upon to handle.” Madison shrugged.

“Point taken.” He nodded, a rueful smile playing at the corners of his lips.

“Okay, so we’ve got the differences in the way the abduction, torture, and killing were handled. What else?” Avery prompted.

“The original killer was organized,” Madison said. “He planned his attacks with meticulous care. Researching the right victims and the perfect surroundings.”

“Meaning what?” Drake asked.

“Each of the women was taken to a house with a cellar. We believe this was a crucial part of his ritual. Part of his fantasy, if you will. Something happened to him involving a cellar and each time he killed, he was replaying or rewriting that incident. It took planning to find women who fit the victimology and then to find the right houses with cellars.”

“Victimology? Are you talking about the type of women he chose?” Simon asked.

“Yes,” Tracy said. “It’s almost as important to understand the victims as it is to understand the unsub. Maybe more so when you consider that the commonalities between victims can tell you a hell of a lot about the killer.”

“And the cyber killer picked young women. Midtwenties. Brunettes. Right?” Drake asked.