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Though Mira rose, she didn’t take Eve’s chair but stood beside her, studying the board. “Burns, lacerations, contusions. Bones crushed and broken.”
“Increasing in severity. Lesser ones are older. Three kinds of sharps is Morris’s opinion. An ice pick or something similar, a jagged-edged blade and a smooth blade. The burns are from both cigarettes and a flame tool – one capable of pinpoint, precise flame. The vic was restrained with duct tape, or a similar product, but gagged with a ball gag.”
“Most usually a sexual tool.”
“No sign of sexual assault or activity. And you can see the wounds on the genitals are less severe than those on the torso and limbs.”
“The same with his face, but the hair was shorn and hacked off – crudely. And the body was naked. Those are humiliation, and the hair would be more personal. But the lack of mutilation, face and genitals is more impersonal.”
“And this.” Eve tapped the photo of the carved heart and initials.
“D for Dorian. E for the killer.” Mira frowned. “Very personal, even romantic. It’s very precisely done, isn’t it? But…”
“Yeah, but.”
“I would expect to see more attention paid to the genitals, the face. I would expect some sort of sexual component. If this was a jilted or unhappy lover, or a delusional fan who craved and imagined a relationship, I would expect to see that reflected in his wounds.”
“Yeah. And what we see is an escalation – humiliation, pain, fear, blood – and Morris said some of the wounds were treated.”
“Ah.” Mira nodded. “To keep it from ending too soon. The slice across the abdomen was the final?”
“Yeah, that’s the kill shot, and would have taken some time to take the vic under, for him to bleed out.”
“We’ll need more data on the victim, a better sense of him and those around him. But if this was random – not personal – it’s very possible you have a team.”
That clicked, just clicked for her. “Romantically, sexually linked, initials D and E, who get off on torture and murder.”
“I need more data,” Mira began, “but if the victim was specifically targeted, you’d look for someone who wanted to humiliate and terrorize, while having complete control. If Dorian Kuper was chosen randomly, and this is where I lean with the current data, you would still look for a sadist, one who uses both the symbolic sadism of cutting off the hair, as well as the infliction of pain while the victim is bound and helpless.”
“The heart changes it. The signature changes it,” Eve insisted.
“Perhaps. If this is a couple then it’s highly likely they are sexual sadists who use this humiliation, this control, this infliction of pain as sexual stimulus – which they use for each other rather than the victim. There’s no piquerism,” she murmured. “No stabbing of the breasts, the buttocks, no mutilation of genitals, no rape. The variance in wounds, in tools…”
She broke off and, as Eve often did, circled around the board, the office. “Most usually you’d expect a dominant and a submissive. One to inflict the pain, one to watch. Or one to order the submission to inflict the pain. But, at this preliminary stage, it may be they are a true couple, a team of equal power and authority.”
“It has to be planned out – not impulse. Had to have the place – private place to torture this vic for two days. The transportation, the tools.”
“Predatory psychopath – or psychopaths – who plan, even rehearse. Sadists who enjoy and are stimulated by inflicting pain. Lust murder perhaps. The death and dying he or they cause brings intense pleasure. The heart symbolizes love, unity. They believe themselves in love, and the victim is a gift to each other.”
“I don’t know if Kuper’s the first – we’re running like crimes – but he won’t be the last. Predators have to hunt. Sadists need victims. And lovers, if we’re dealing with that, need that sexual rush.”
“Agreed. It is possible that, while the heart is a signature, a symbol, the killer romanticizes his kill, the victim. It may be a single predator, lacking the sexual drive and component. A romantic. I’m sorry I can’t be more definitive.”
“No, I’ve got clear avenues to pursue. And we’ll have more data once we pull in friends, coworkers. We’
ll know more when we get something from IRCCA. I’ll send you a report once I have enough to put together. Thanks for the time.”
“Paid in full by the coffee.” She handed Eve the empty cup, then smiled. “You look well rested. I can’t say that often.”
“I had days to do pretty much nothing but lie around.”
“You earned it. None of us will forget how we spent the last day of the year anytime soon. Keep me in the loop,” she added, with another glance at the board before she left. “I very much want to profile this one.”
Alone, Eve sat to write up her preliminary report, to start the murder book, to refine the board. She added Morris’s report when it came through, then glanced up when she heard the clomp of Peabody’s fuzzy-topped boots.
“I’ve got the first of the interviews coming in,” she reported. “I staggered them by thirty minutes. I was able to pull in Chamberlin. He talked the vic’s mother into taking a tranq, and activated Maeve the droid to stay with her. He’s pretty anxious to talk to you, so I put him first.”
“Good. Always good to talk to the top guy. Now if they’d just send me – Finally,” she said when her computer signaled incoming. “IRCCA results. Computer, on screen.”
