AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Be brave, Lucy. I will find you.
“He’s a chauvinist?” Sean said, tapping Hans’s notes. “He does this because he thinks he’s better than women?”
“That’s a bit simplistic, but yes,” Hans said. “I think it’s more that he believes that women are by nature weaker and should be subservient to men, and thus must be properly trained. One thing about all his victims, according to a psychologist who worked with them after the attacks—they all had low self-esteem. They felt they were unattractive to the opposite sex, that they were too fat or too skinny or too ugly. He preyed on the outcasts. They would be far more vulnerable to the charms of an older, nice-looking man who was in a position of authority.”
“Lucy doesn’t fit that profile,” Dillon said.
“No, she doesn’t.”
Sean’s head shot up. He heard something in Hans’s voice. “What?” he demanded. “What are you thinking?”
“What have you learned about his mother?” Hans asked.
Sean frowned, not liking where this conversation was going. “Christina Lyons. She went back to her maiden name after the divorce. Was a successful realtor in San Francisco, and an artist. She owned an art gallery, sold her own work plus that of other local artists.”
“Have you found her obituary?”
“I have it, but I haven’t read it—” Sean flipped through his computer files. “Here it is.” He skimmed it. “I don’t know what you’re looking for.”
“Read the last two sentences. That’s usually where they put the next-of-kin information.”
Sean glanced at the bottom and read, “Christina is survived by her partner of twelve years, Nikki Broman. Donations in lieu of flowers should be sent to the National Breast Cancer Society.”
Sean frowned. “He’s angry with women because his mother was a lesbian?”
“No, not exactly. I think he’s angry with women because his mother was successful without a man in her life. Moreover, since her son wasn’t acknowledged in the obit, he was essentially disowned. What about Paul Miller’s obituary? What did he do?”
Sean brought up the father’s obit and skimmed it. “Retired electrician.”
“How old was he when he died?”
“Forty-nine.”
“A little young to retire.”
“He was living in a crappy neighborhood in Baltimore. Survived by a son, Peter Miller of Baltimore—” Sean looked up. “I don’t have any property owned by him in Baltimore. Just the house in Wilmington.”
“If he was living in a crappy neighborhood, maybe they didn’t own.”
“A rental.”
“Did the father ever own a house?”
Sean checked. “Yes, but lost it…six months after Christina left.”
“She was supporting him.” Hans looked up at the ceiling. “She supported him, she left, he moved to a cheap rental in a bad area. Why didn’t she take her son with her?”
“He was fourteen. Maybe she thought he would be better off with his father?” Sean suggested.
“Or she was scared. Fourteen—puberty. I wonder if he was exhibiting early signs of a serial killer.”
Sean jumped. “What? Where did that come from? He’s a rapist—a manipulator. Where does ‘he’s a serial killer’ come from?”
“The dead pet he left for the girl who didn’t obey. You don’t wake up one morning and decide to kill someone’s dog. He had to have done it before. Killing animals is one of the triad of serial killer traits. Can you run arson fires in Baltimore during the time Miller was aged ten to eighteen? And map it?”
“No, but Jayne can.” Sean sent her an email, hoping she was at the computer even though it was 4:30 a.m. in California.
Sean asked, “What does this mean for Lucy? If she doesn’t fit the profile for his rape victims, does that mean he’s going to kill her?”
