But who will guard the guardians themselves?
—Juvenal, The Satires
The days had stretched into a week for Joey Powers. He lay on his stomach, just three feet from the TV, his head propped up on his elbows, his body fully encased in pajamas.
“Dad, when is Mom coming on TV?”
“Joey, I don’t think this is a good idea.”
“Come on, I never get to see Mom on TV. You never let me. I’m old enough. I’m six going on seven.”
“I don’t care what age you are. You’re not staying up to watch your mom.”
“Why?”
“Your mom deals with very bad people, very bad men. Criminals like we talked about. You remember?”
“Yessth.” Joey’s occasional lisp was showing through. He had lost a tooth in a baseball game, and they hadn’t made it to the dentist yet.
“And you know that sometimes those criminals do really bad things, really bad.”
“Yessth.” He stopped, thinking. “Like the cops and robbers on TV.”
“Yes, except cops and robbers on TV aren’t real. They don’t bleed real blood, they don’t really die.”
Joey rolled his eyes. “I know that.”
“The people your mom is going to talk about tonight on TV, they are real people. Like you and me. The people who were killed, they had a real family, a mom and dad, like you do.”
“So?”
“I don’t think you should see it, son. Your mom might have to talk about some pretty awful stuff. It might upset you.”
Joey stood up, put his hands on his hips, and sighed. “But, Dad, I’m six,” he said, pleading his case. “It’s not like when you were six. All you ever watched was Leave It to Beaver, dumb stuff like that.”
“So?” Mark felt foolish defending his childhood innocence.
“Kids today are more grown-up. We’ve got the Internet. I can handle it.” Joey stood, feet shoulder-width apart. “And I haven’t seen Mom in a week.”
Mark thought about what his child said. It did seem that kids today grew up much faster, could handle more and had seen more than when he was a kid. Joey was just a boy, but he understood what violence was, watched the nightly news, knew all too well the violence that surrounded him. Police officers had visited his first grade class to discuss the danger of drugs and child molesters. And he was only six! Joey was right, he was growing up a lot faster. The thought made Mark shudder.
“All right, you can watch. But no nightmares.”
“Cool. What time is she coming on?”
“She’ll be on in a few minutes.”
Cat had called a national news conference for eight that evening. The big three networks were carrying live feeds from their Orange County affiliates. The national anchors were already hyping the killer as a combination of Ted Bundy and Jeffrey Dahmer. A gentleman killer and mutilator all rolled into one.
Joey sat spellbound through the national anchors’ introductions, then the minute-long story segue into the conference. The reporter’s voice droned, detailing the number of killings, the sheer brutality of the murders, the little the FBI had.
The footage cut away to a police conference room.
“There’s Mom!” Joey cried, pointing at the brief glimpse of a woman dressed in a cobalt blue suit, her hair shining against the television lights. The men standing with her looked solemn.
Mark had second thoughts, wondering if this was a good idea. “You sure you want to watch, pal?”
“I’m sure.”
A man stepped to the microphone, adjusted his tie, and spoke. “Good evening, everyone, and thank you for coming.” His eyes scanned the room quickly. “We have gathered you here today to announce the creation of a statewide task force focused on the killer the media has dubbed the Burning Man. From the Oregon border to San Diego, a statewide network of agencies will be working together on this case, all with the same intent: to catch him.”
“Dad, when do I get to see Mom?”
“In a minute, Joey.” Instinct told Mark maybe this wasn’t a good idea.
Reporters fired off questions as soon as Richmond took a breath. “What has changed in the case to necessitate a statewide dragnet?” a young reporter asked, her hand in the air, pencil in hand.
“For further questioning, I will turn you over to Dr. Catherine Powers, chief forensic psychologist of the FBI’s Behavioral Unit out of Quantico, Virginia. Dr. Powers will be heading the manhunt.” The man turned, stepped down, and Cat walked onto the screen.
“There she is!” Joey said. “There’s Mom.”
Mark had forgotten how lovely his ex-wife was. The color of her suit seemed to highlight her aquamarine eyes, the auburn streaks in her hair. She was beautiful but looked thin and tired. “Jesus, Cat. What are you doing to yourself?” he murmured.
“Thank you all for coming.” She looked up from her notes and flashed one of those million-dollar smiles. Mark wondered if she was smiling from nerves. “The reason we have called you all here tonight, as my colleague informed you, is to announce the expansion of the effort to bring the Burning Man to justice.”
“Dad, she looks tired, huh?” Joey looked back over his shoulder.
“Yes, son. She does.”
They listened as Cat continued. “As you know, two days ago we pulled a body out of the water off Dana Point. We have reason to believe that that woman, Jane Doe for now, is a victim of the Burning Man. The girl at this point remains unidentified, although we have circulated her photo to police departments in Los Angeles, Orange, and other Southern California counties. For this reason, we have reason to believe she may be a transient to the area, could even have come across state lines with the killer. Obviously, that possibility puts a new spin on the case. We could be dealing with a killer that is not just a California problem but a national one.”
Cat felt the flashbulbs hot on her face.
She caught a glimpse of Cooper off to the side in the back of the room.
The same young reporter was up again, seeming to have a monopoly on the questions. “What has changed in the case?”
“Well, a number of things have. The newest victim does not match the killer’s modus operandi, not entirely at least. Although she exhibits the same lacerations, she is the first one that has been strangled and the first to exhibit ligature bruises to the neck, torso, ankles, and wrists.”
“Dad, what’s a ligature?”
Mark thought of making something up but answered the boy honestly. “Mom’s talking about a kind of bruise that you get when you’re tied up real tight, son.”
“Like when Jason and I play in the yard?”
“Yes. Something like that.”
Joey and Mark turned their attention back to the television. Cat was explaining the similarities and dissimilarities of the three victims that had been found. She did not mince words, nor did she take her attention off her audience.
The fire in her eyes told Mark that she was fully into it now. Obsessed, he had called it, with her cases. That obsession for justice had cost them their marriage. It had killed the young, naive girl he had fallen in love with, and in her place had put a woman so driven to find truth that she destroyed and alienated everything dear to her in life.
Except Joey.
Cat said sternly that she believed there were more women’s bodies out there.
“What can the press do to help?”
“You can get the word out to every person in this country that Jane Doe is dead.” Cat turned to the same girl’s photograph she had used before, this time projected onto a five-foot screen behind her. “This is someone’s daughter, someone’s sister.”
She waited for the photo to sink in.
“As much as he brutalized her, she needs justice. We need to find out who she is. If we can, we will have made one more step toward finding and catching the Burning Man.”
“Dr. Powers, how is the investigation going?”
“Will he be stopped?”
“Have you narrowed down the suspects?”
“How can we be sure it’s even a man?”
The questions came like rapid-fire bullets.
“The investigation at this point is going as well as can be expected. The FBI is running DNA testing, toxicology.” Cat knew she wasn’t telling them anything concrete, but it sounded like something. It was a skill she had picked up over the years and learned well. “We have a photo analysis team flying in from Washington tonight.”
“Wow, cool,” Joey said, impressed by what his mother was saying, though Mark was sure he didn’t understand it. “As far as suspects, we have some ideas but no concrete leads at the moment. In that area, the investigation is continuing, progressing nicely.”
If he was watching, Cat wanted the Burning Man to believe they were getting close, even if they weren’t. Sometimes a psychological game of cat-and-mouse could be best played out before millions to see.
“Are they gonna catch him, Dad?”
“I don’t know. But you know what, with your mom on the case, I would bet pretty sure odds they’re going to.”
“Cool.”
“How can you be sure it’s even a man,” a woman reporter asked again.
“On the most recent victim, we have evidence of damage to the neck, along with other use of force that suggests the killer is probably a man.”
“What else can you tell us about him?”
“He is well educated, articulate, probably soft-spoken, knows how to blend in, but is also wound pretty tight, full of fears and phobias when it comes down to it.” More cat-and-mouse, Mark thought.
“And he is medically trained.”
“How do you know that?” Cooper shouted, even before Cat could answer.
“I cannot discuss that detail of the case, other than to say the precise nature of the lacerations to the bodies indicates a man who has had medical training.”
“Like a doctor?” Joey asked his dad.
“Yeah, maybe. Let’s listen, okay?”
Joey nodded and turned back around, his head propped on his hands again.
A male reporter finally got in a word edgewise.
“How about the acid? Did he use it on the last one?”
“Yes, he did. He used it on Jane Doe. Let’s find her a name, shall we, ladies and gentlemen?” Cat bowed her head, Mark suspected to hide tears. “She deserves better.”
The questions, lights, flashes kept coming. Cooper kept trying to ask questions. Cat would have none of it. She simply smiled and said, “That is all we have for now. As the case progresses, we will be holding additional briefings.” She stepped down off the podium.
Joey turned, his brow stitched together in concern. “Dad, you think Mom’s doing okay?”
“Joey, I think your mom can handle herself just fine.”
“You sure?”
“Yes, I’m sure. Now it’s off to bed for you, trooper.” Mark tried to sound upbeat.
Joey was already in his face, lips puckered with a kiss. “Night, Dad. I love you.” A big hug followed.
“I love you too.” Mark returned the kiss and popped him on the butt as he scooted off.
Mark was always surprised by Joey’s innocence and intelligence, and his love for his mom. His smile faded as he thought about how bad Cat looked.