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He needed time alone to recoup.
He’d shut his office door, taken two aspirin, and closed his eyes for a power nap. After that, his plan was to stuff a jelly donut down his throat for the energy boost he needed to get back to work.
He must have fallen into a deeper sleep than he’d intended.
He jumped up with the sense that too much time had passed. Sure enough, the clock on his desk said 8:40. Dammit. Three hours lost.
Automatically he checked his computer screen. Nothing yet.
Following his earlier plan, he made the rest of the Krispy Kremes his dinner. That did the trick. His mind jolted awake from the sugar high, and he was alert and ready to work.
Abruptly, the results window of his system popped up, displaying an early success using the test data he’d provided:
Strong linkage. Rapes reported March 13, June 23, September 3. Victims African-American women, ages 20, 27, and 30. Locations: Cypress Hills Houses, Blake Avenue, East New York section of Brooklyn, New York. Edenwald Houses, East 229th Street, Bronx, New York. 143rd Street, Jamaica, Queens.
These crimes were over three years old. The NYPD had arrested the perpetrator just six months ago. Imagine if they’d been able to solve the crime in three months rather than three years. How many women had that SOB raped in the intervening period? How many victims might have been spared the lifetime scars caused by this traumatic violation?
Elliot’s thoughts were interrupted by words scrolling across the screen: Press Y to continue, N to Start a New Operation. He typed N and pressed the enter key.
The latest kidnappings had been entered into the database.
Professor Helen Daniels and her daughter Abby. Two simultaneous victims. Lake near a college campus. Hypodermic needle. State College, Pennsylvania.
Carefully, Elliot checked his notes from the marathon debriefing this afternoon one last time, and circled the final key piece of information to enter. It was a tentative profile of the “Unsub”—as Sloane referred to him in FBI speak—that had been developed by the BAU. Carefully, Elliot added the target profile to his system.
White male. Mid-to-late thirties. Probably a loner. Can’t establish normal sexual relationships with women. Aberrant behavior most likely rooted in warped sense of male/female relationships developed during childhood. Targets prostitutes as high risk, high-visibility victims. Either eldest son or only child. Strong belief that he is more intelligent than the masses and exempt from social restrictions. Possible military background, stationed in the Far East. Knowledge of Mandarin and Fukienese. Chosen homicide method—cutting/stabbing/slashing. Copper coin with python on one side and goddess on the other left at each crime scene.
Satisfied that all the information had been properly structured, Elliot typed in the phrase: constrain results using Skippy as target.
Despite his worry over Sloane’s safety, he had to grin. She’d punch him out for using her nickname. Maybe that’s why he’d done it. Maybe he was grasping for something comforting, a touch of humor to cling to as the only semblance of humanity in this nightmarish ordeal.
The system responded: constraining results using Skippy as target.
Elliot then entered the final command: find relationships using victims.
The status window displayed: thinking…
There was no point in sitting here, gaping at the screen in anticipation. The truth was, Elliot had no idea how long it would take his system to generate results. It could be hours, days, weeks before anything materialized. If anything materialized at all. He shoved that thought aside with a shudder. No way. He had to think positive.
The system’s progress would need to be monitored 24/7. A schedule had been created and posted online, with Elliot and his two most trusted grad students taking turns watching. Elliot would have his cell phone on at all times. Anything that showed up was to be reported to him immediately. The process was complicated. Sometimes the system presented a single search path, other times it presented multiple ones. In the case of the latter, decisions would have to be made—one branch, another branch, or all branches. Sloane and the team would provide the investigative instincts. Elliot would be responsible for the rest.
Time was of the essence.
So was getting it right.
CHAPTER
TWENTY-SIX
DATE: 28 April
TIME: 0800 hours
The anointment room has been scoured and readied.
The goddesses themselves feel the excitement in the air. They don’t understand what its cause is, but they will. Each of them has so completely transformed into her namesake that all their passages will be peaceful and natural. That’s as I intended it. I’m proud that I’ve done such a splendid job. I’d feared for Gaia. Now that fear is gone.
I’d also feared that Demeter and Persephone had arrived here too late to adapt to what was to come. Their progress astounds me, as does Demeter’s knowledge of plants, fruits, and vegetables and how they make the spirit grow and thrive.
