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“Or maybe he’s gay. Maybe he views handsome men as unattainable. Resents them. Or he resents those smooth enough to be able to hook up.”
We were both into it now, spewing ideas without thinking them through.
“Maybe he desires hot dudes and wants to control them.” Now the titanium digit jabbed my way. “Maybe killing them is his way of scoring.”
“He can’t have them as lovers, so he keeps their hands to use later in some sort of ritual.”
Neither of us wanted to visualize that.
“Three grown men disappear in broad daylight. No one witnesses any of the grabs.” Now Monck was shifting gears. “Forget motivation. Where does he do it? How?”
“The old tried and true? A spiked drink in a bar?”
“Musgrove floated those pics past every bouncer and barkeep in Provo. No go.”
“Including Glen Wall at Polly’s?”
Monck’s expression registered that my point had landed.
“Here’s a question,” I said. “Does he shoot his vics right away? Or does he hold them somewhere and murder them later?”
“Galloway’s body was discovered two days after his buddies reported him missing. Decomp was minimal, so for him the answeris probably no. With the others, time between the snatch and the killing is anyone’s guess.”
I tried another tack.
“Palke and Bonner were found in close proximity to each other. By then, the perp had established a dumping ground. But why leave your victims where they’ll eventually turn up? Why not bury them? Drop them far out to sea? Grind them in a wood chipper? Dissolve them in acid? There are dozens of ways to get rid of a corpse.”
“Disposal at sea would require a boat, maybe a secluded dock,” Monck said.
“Good point. So probably no boat.”
“But the perp definitely has a vehicle.”
“Agreed. But that doesn’t answer my question.”
Monck thought a moment, then his brows angled up. “He wants the bodies found.”
“Why?” I asked.
“He craves media attention? His fifteen minutes of fame?”
“If so, wouldn’t he leave his kills in more obvious places?”
My gaze returned to the lineup topping our notes. My thoughts shifted to the victims’ final moments on earth. Galloway, sweat-slicked and pumped on endorphins coming off a run. Bonner, absorbed with F-stops and lenses and light. Palke, high on flashbacks of parrotfish, jacks, and tangs.
Monck’s voice brought me back.
“—maybe he’s acting out against a specific man in his life. A man he hates.”
“Or a man he loves. Or loved.” I jumped back in. “Maybe someone who disappointed or betrayed him. That’s why he kills kindly then leaves the bodies where they’ll be found. But not right away.”
“So, he’s bat-shit nuts but cunning.”
“He doesn’t mutilate his victims—”
“Except for the hands.”
“But even that he does mercifully, with a single quick, sharp blow. Why?”
