Faces of Evil [2] Impulse (15 page)

Dan shifted in his seat, tugged loose the top two buttons of his shirt so he could breathe. Though the Player appeared to use different torture techniques – probably dependent upon what prompted the most screaming – the end result was the same: the victims were raped and murdered. Once deceased, the bodies were meticulously cleaned and deposited in the most unexpected and open places without a speck of other evidence left behind. His delivery points ranged from a church pew to a public park.

Jess tapped the photo in front of him. “See how precise his work is? The removal of the nipples almost as exact as a surgeon’s in preparation for a lift. He pinpoints major nerve centers, too. See that area of the shoulder where he seemed to concentrate? And here in the upper area of the inner thigh? The eyes?” She leaned back, distancing herself from the photos. “He knows how to inflict pain. He’s mastered the art.”

Dan felt ill. “You mentioned before that he likes to use their fears against them. That’s why he asked about Detective Wells’ fears.” He swallowed at the lump that had lodged in his throat.

Jess leaned forward again, pointed to marks on one of the vics. “Snake bites. Dozens of them. Only one bite was from a poisonous snake. That was cause of death. But all the others appeared to have been inflicted before death.” She put another photo in front of him. “This one, the remains of spiders were found in her stomach contents and even a couple deep in her throat. We believe he made her swallow them, probably one by one. Cause of death, myocardial infarction. He literally scared her to death. The rest of the wounds inflicted were just for fun.”

“So. . .” Dan couldn’t believe he was about to say this out loud. “Based on his prior pattern and what we’ve seen here with Belinda Howard’s condition, which bore no marks of a specific fear inducing torture, the perp we’re dealing with isn’t Spears or this Player?”

But if it wasn’t him, then who the hell was this guy?

Jess propped her elbows on the table and rested her chin in her hands. She didn’t answer for a time. She’d been back in Birmingham less than a week and the troubles with Eric Spears had started weeks before that. She was tired, disgusted and scared – even if she wouldn’t admit that last part.

He thought of the challenge she’d issued to this maniac that would be run over and over on the news. She was desperate to stop him. And that scared him.

“Even if we learn that Belinda Howard was terrified of a paper cut,” Jess said finally, “it still doesn’t fit the Player’s MO.” She peered at the photos again. “Based on what we have so far, I’d be a fool to believe this is him.” She lifted her gaze to his. “But it
is
him. It has to be. The messages he sent to me are the same tone and rhythm. I could get past that by assuming Gant was right and we had a copycat who had latched onto the media frenzy back in Richmond and had targeted me. But, we have four eye witnesses who have positively identified Eric Spears.” Exhaling a burst of frustration, she busied herself organizing the photos and reports back into a stack.

“Spears’ likeness is plastered all over the city,” he said, hoping to reassure her. The Bureau wasn’t happy, but the media blitz and the flyers were out there. “By sun-up whoever this guy is, he’ll have a hell of a time moving around freely.”

Her efforts at pulling the file back to order stalled. “That’s the thing, isn’t it?” She shook her head. “
Whoever this guy is
. What if I’m not only wrong about this, what if I’ve been wrong all along like Gant said?”

Reaching across the table, he took her hand in his, gave it a squeeze. “Considering this guy looks just like Spears, I say until we have a better alternative, we keep following our instincts. That can’t be wrong.”

“That’s the part that’s driving me crazy. The part I can’t get past even though every other aspect of this case points to someone else.” She threw her hands up in exasperation. “I can see one witness being way off on the ID, but four? Unless he has a long lost twin – and we found nothing on any siblings or close family whatsoever, much less a twin – or has a fan who idolizes him to the extent that he went to the trouble to change his entire appearance, this has to be Spears.”

“Let’s say it is him, no question,” Dan proposed, “is there anything in his psychology that could explain this sudden departure from his usual methods?”

She reflected on the question for a few moments. “The compulsion that drives a sociopath like Spears is immense. Most can’t control those kinds of extreme impulses but he has worked long and hard, probably disciplined himself with physical abuse to maintain a rigid level of restraint. He knows what he wants, what he must have, and he goes after it when the time is right. When he’s prepared.” She tortured that lush bottom lip of hers. “He’s keenly intelligent and a lot OCD so everything has to be perfect. Methodical. Precise.”

She pushed out of her chair and started pacing again, arms wrapped around her middle like a shield.

“I can only assume that he got distracted for some reason by the interaction with me and he’s fixating on whatever it is about me that intrigues him. That fixation has prompted him to act on pure impulse which is way outside his comfort zone. He’s making mistakes and he knows better. Yet he doesn’t care because he’s lost control to the degree that it makes him feel in control to pretend this is exactly what he intended.”

Dan had given into plenty of impulses of his own. Ten years ago in the Publix when he and Jess ran into each other for the first time in years. . . neither had been able to control what had happened between them.

She stopped, hauled Dan back from his wayward musings, and faced him.

“It’s possible he’s turned this into his new reality to block those old feelings of inadequacy and failure that haunted him in the past.” A light came on in her eyes as if the assessment were a relief, then her face fell, scrunched with worry. “If that’s the case, then he’s on the edge and the smallest thing could tip him over. The results of a fall like that are immeasurable. Until he’s contained, there’s no telling what level he’ll take this to.”

“So, the longer it takes us to find him, the more dangerous this situation could become.”

She nodded but he doubted his comment registered, she was still analyzing.

“The trouble I have with that scenario is that Spears found control and held onto it with an iron fist for all this time. Otherwise he might not be the wealthy man he is today. Not to mention, if he’s the Player, as I believe, he has at least thirty murders on his resume and not one can be connected to him. He’s nothing short of brilliant. Surely a bump in his path as insignificant as my interference couldn’t undo all that rigid control.”

She shook her head, clearly exasperated. “And yet that had to be the trigger.”

Dan had read that about Spears. He’d built an empire out of a small software company – for security systems, no less. A recluse, he worked from his mansion when he wasn’t traveling. He spent more time outside the country than in it.

A man like that could have hundreds of victims all over the world.

“Maybe he’s given in to the impulse, to his obsession with you,” Dan tossed out, “and he’s lost total control, like you said.”

She lowered back into her chair. “Maybe. But if we look at the victimology, I’m not convinced even a loss of control or this rush he seems to be in would change his methods so completely. Howard’s wounds are not nearly as detailed as his usual work and he’s a perfectionist. He would never be so careless.”

Dan could see that it was killing her to be totally confused on a case where she thought she knew the perpetrator so well. “During the investigation in Richmond, you were thinking maybe he had an accomplice or partner. Could this be his work? Could he be,” Dan shrugged, “attempting to walk in his teacher’s footsteps? Even going so far as to change his appearance? Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery.”

“It’s possible. I suspected he had at least one student, protégé, whatever. Even if I couldn’t prove it. Considering I received all those emails while he was being held for questioning, there had to be someone else involved. I sure as hell didn’t send them to myself – even if they were sent from my home computer.” She made a derisive sound. “But I would be more inclined to believe this is a relative who bears a striking resemblance to him. The way Lily and I look so much alike. Or. . . or the way my niece looks so much like the both of us.”

“Yet, in five years, the Bureau’s investigation found no such relatives.”

“None.”

“That takes us back to Spears himself.” Dan blew out a breath. Talk about going in circles.

“Which presents a whole other problem,” she declared, frustrated. “No print matches. Who knows if any of those collected at the scenes were his since Mrs. Wells said he was wearing gloves. But the women at the floral shop said he wasn’t wearing gloves and we haven’t found a single print matching his, not on the business card or anywhere else.”

She opened her drink and took a long swallow as she leaned back into her chair. Dan’s throat tightened as he watched her tilt her head back, lengthening that smooth, slender neck and then licking her lips after savoring her drink. As tired as he was, as awful as the situation with the case, he couldn’t deny himself the luxury of looking at her as a woman. The woman with whom he had once shared everything. The same one he’d walked away from.

The biggest mistake of his life.

“I’m stumped,” she confessed. “I can’t fit what we have in this case into what I know about the man I interviewed in Richmond three weeks ago. I just can’t make the leap.”

“Believe it or not,” he said, the idea gaining momentum, “I think we found our answer. What we have on our hands is a copycat.” Made the most sense in his opinion. That Jess didn’t look surprised prompted him to go on. “And since the name Eric Spears wasn’t connected to the serial killer known as the Player until last month, this copycat would have already had to know who Spears was. Had to know and love him enough to have gone to all the trouble to do whatever necessary to look like him.”

She stared at Dan for a long moment without saying a word. Then, as if his pronouncement had abruptly sunk in, her eyes widened. “Then the real question is, whether or not Spears is involved. If he is, then we don’t have just one sadistic killer to worry about. We have two.”

The idea sent dread plowing through Dan’s veins.

His cell vibrated. He blinked away the new, troubling concept and stared at the screen. Gant.
Damn
.

Burnett was still on the phone when the doorbell sounded. It would be Harper. He’d sent Jess a text asking if he could stop by. It was too early for him to have results from the sample he’d taken from Belinda Howard’s feet, but there could be other news.

After confirming it was Harper, Jess disarmed the security system and opened the door. “Sergeant, I hope you have some good news. I’ve reached my limit for bad in a single twenty-four hour period.” Her nerves were shot. The concept that both Spears and his protégé were here. . . working as a team upped the stakes dramatically.

Maybe the ultimatum she issued to the media would goad one or both into making a move against her. Get this over with. . . so she could take him or them down. She recognized the thought as irrational but that didn’t stop her from meaning it just the same.

Harper waited while she secured the door. “We’ll have those results by noon, ma’am. The lab is seriously backed up but my friend assured me that we have priority.”

“Good. Anything else?”

Harper nodded, his face grim. “The yellow fabric used to wrap the wounds on Howard’s arms was from a blouse. Someone ripped it into pieces to use as makeshift bandages.”

There was absolutely no way Spears would do that. Had to be the protégé or copycat, whatever the hell this guy was.

“Another piece of that blouse was used to staunch the blood flow from the wound to the abdomen.”

“Do we know what Belinda Howard was wearing when she was abducted?”

He nodded. “A light green dress. I also reviewed the statements Mrs. Wells and Terri made after. . . we arrived.” Pain pinched his face. “Both Terri and her mother stated that Lori – Detective Wells – was wearing brown slacks and a
yellow
blouse.”

That could mean Lori was still alive and that somehow she had attempted to provide first aid to Belinda Howard. Jess’s heart squeezed. She wanted to cling to that slither of hope. Jess refused to believe Lori was dead. She was strong. She would survive longer than the average victim of a heinous killer.

“She would do that,” Harper said, as if he’d read Jess’s mind. “Try to help, I mean.”

Jess met his gaze, her heart squeezing again at the agony in his eyes. “Detective Wells had to be alive to administer first aid.” She pressed her lips together before she said too much. It would be wrong to give him any additional assurances.

“That was my thinking.”

Just move on, Jess
. “Any word on Howard’s condition?”

“That’s part of the reason I came by.”

It struck Jess then that they were still standing in the entry hall. “Come in, sergeant. I don’t know where my head is much less my manners.”

He touched her arm and she hesitated. He glanced beyond her before speaking. “How’s he taking all this?”

Jess shook her head. “He’s sick about it, just like you and I. And he’s pretty pissed about the TV thing.”

Harper smiled. “I saw it. You looked pretty tough. If I was this guy, I’d be worried.”

As tired as she was, he made her smile. “That was the goal, sergeant.”

She led him to the dining room. Burnett was still in the kitchen. The hushed sound of his voice made her want to walk right up to him and demand to know to whom he was speaking and what it had to do with the case.

Then again, it could be that reporter. . . Gina. . . wondering if he was available.

You’re an idiot, Jess
.

“Have a seat, sergeant.” She gestured to the chairs lining the table. She’d bet a million dollars if she had it that the table had never been used before tonight. This was no home. It was a status symbol. Apparently Burnett’s mother had rubbed off on him without Jess here to intervene. “Would you like coffee? Pepsi? Water?”