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“Who’s got it?”

“Carmichael’s primary.”

Satisfied Eve nodded. “Thanks.”

The squawking renewed as she walked off to take the glides to Mira’s sector.

She supposed Mira’s area would be considered more civilized than hers. You weren’t likely to see junked-up suspects being hauled around. Here there was quiet, easy colors, and a lot of closed doors.

Mira’s was open, and the admin guarding the perimeter look

ed relaxed, so Eve decided she wasn’t going to have to do a dance to gain admission.

Mira spotted her from her desk. “Eve. Come right in. I’m just finishing up some paperwork.”

“Appreciate the time.”

“I have a little to spare today.”

As always, Mira looked perfectly put together without being obvious about it. She was letting her sable-colored hair grow some so that it waved softly to the nape of her neck. Her suit was a monochromatic three-piece in a rich, plummy tone worn with sparkling silver chains and little glittery hoops in her ears.

She smiled easily, a lovely face with soft blue eyes Eve knew could see right through the skull into whatever secrets the brain might hold.

“Did you get a chance to look at the reports?”

“I did. Have a seat. It’s a shame, isn’t it, all that youth and optimism cut off so abruptly.” She sat back. “Their lives were just beginning, really.”

“Now they’re over,” Eve said flatly. “Why?”

“Why is rarely straightforward, is it? On the profile,” she said in brisk, professional tones, “I agree, as you’d expect, with your conclusions and the ME’s, that you’re looking for one killer. Most likely male, between thirty-five and sixty-five. He isn’t impulsive, and wasn’t looking for thrills. He didn’t rape either victim because it wasn’t part of the business at hand. And, very likely, he doesn’t equate sex with power and control. He may be in a sexual relationship where he is accustomed to being subservient.”

“Rape takes time,” Eve added. “He had a schedule to keep, and priorities.”

“Agreed. But rape, or the threat of it, is often used in torture killings, as is mutilation. No sexual assault, no mutilation, no serious vandalism. He came prepared, and with a purpose. He fulfilled it, using brute force and physical—very likely emotional—torture.”

Mira spread the crime scene photos out on her desk.

“Binding the victims put them under his control, kept them helpless. Removing the tape from both victims’ mouths tells me he wanted, or needed, to see their faces. The whole of their faces as he strangled them.”

“Pride in his work.”

“Yes. A job fulfilled, and the acknowledgment of his power and his control. As he was able to overcome a man of Byson’s years and physical build, he’s likely in good physical condition himself. Utilizing weapons on scene—the robe tie, the binding cord—shows presence of mind and clear thinking. The lack of any DNA on the first scene indicates he took precautions. The fact that there was DNA on the second tells me he lost that control long enough to lead with temper.”

“Because he got clocked.”

“Exactly,” Mira said with a ghost of a smile. “Byson hurt him, and he reacted poorly to the pain. Copperfield was the primary target.

“And I’m not telling you anything you don’t know.”

“No, but it solidifies it.”

“This was a desperate act committed without desperation. He certainly feared them, or what they could do, but there’s no indication of panic on the bodies or on the scenes. He was in control, and illustrated that control to them, to himself, by the face-to-face strangulations.”

“Watch me kill you while I watch you die.”

“Yes. And while he may have—almost certainly—experienced some sort of thrill through that, he remained controlled enough to move quickly to the secondary target and finish his job.”

“But not a pro. It’s too messy for a professional.”

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