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“Yeah.” Kennedy drained his coffee and dropped the cup in the trash. “But someone’s waiting in the wings.”
As they walked back to their car, Jason said, “He honestly didn’t think you were aware of the mermaid connection. I don’t know how he imagines every single person on that taskforce could have missed it, but he’d convinced himself you had. I think that was important to him. Believing he’d gotten away with something. Believing there was still something that was his and his alone.”
“Very possible. It would be his final shared intimacy with the victims.”
At Jason’s questioning look, Kennedy said, “That’s the real point of taking trophies. Serials like to relive their relationship, if you will, with the victims. Trophies help facilitate that.”
“By relationship you mean murder.”
“There’s more to it, but yes, murder is always the keystone of the relationship. Trophies are like talismans. They’re tangible. They’re proof it actually happened. In Pink’s case he took trophies, but he also left something of his own, of himself, with the victims. It was another way of keeping the connection.”
“Delightful,” Jason said bitterly.
“In some ways Pink was pretty naïve. It was more luck than cunning that allowed him to run free so long. In an urban environment, he’d have been caught right away.”
“What was the significance of the mermaids? He told me some cock-and-bull story about a mermaid sticking her tongue out at him once. I think he must have been talking about one of the girls who used to work at the Blue Mermaid. But nothing ever happened to any of those girls. At least not that I remember hearing.”
“No. We were never sure what the significance of the mermaids was.”
Jason stared at the highway and the never-ending stream of cars racing into oblivion.
Kennedy glanced at him and said, “You’re never going to get a satisfying answer on the why. Serial killers don’t kill for the normal reasons of gain or revenge or lust. Their motives don’t even qualify as motives as recognized by a rational mind.”
“Insanity is a legal definition not a medical diagnosis.”
“True. But how else do you classify the brain of a ruthless predator that kills and tortures for pleasure? People want to understand the why and the how, but there are some things there’s no understanding.”
Yes. Kennedy had this right. Despite his training and education, Jason still wanted to understand, still wanted to be able to make some sense out of…insanity. Because regardless of legal definitions, there was nothing normal about a person who could do the things Pink had done.
Jason forced his thoughts to the practical. “Couldn’t you track the manufacturer down?”
“We tried. We didn’t get anywhere. George Simpson had only purchased the gift shop that year. The mermaids Pink bought from him were the last of already existing stock. It was a dead end.”
Kennedy pressed the key fob unlocking the doors, and they climbed into the sedan. However, Kennedy didn’t start the engine. He seemed to be thinking.
“Something wrong?” Jason asked.
“No.” Kennedy glanced at him. It was an odd look. A measuring look.
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah. Yeah, I am.” Kennedy stared out the windshield. “I think we should stay in Boston tonight.”
“Boston? Why?”
“A couple of reasons. I want to go over some things regarding the case, and I’d prefer to do that without any audience.”
“Okay.”
It was true their presence generated a lot of attention in Kingsfield. Not so much that Jason would have thought they couldn’t speak freely, certainly in private, but if Kennedy thought they needed a few hours off-site, okay. Jason was in no rush to return.
His puzzlement must have shown.
Kennedy said, “It hasn’t hit you yet, has it?”
Jason said warily, “What hasn’t hit me?”
“If Pink is telling the truth, then there’s a strong possibility this copycat is someone involved in the original investigation.”
