Most of the people working at the CP were gathered around the table. One of CIRG’s analysts was still glued to his computer, doing research work that was vital to the team’s success.
Noah and Kaely spent almost forty-five minutes bringing everyone up to date and giving them their opinions as to the next place their UNSUB might strike.
When Noah felt he’d shared everything he could, he asked for questions.
One of the investigators from the police department in Illinois raised his hand. “So you believe the next murder could be someone Agent Quinn knows?” he asked. “Have her friends, family, and acquaintances been afforded protection?”
“The two people already killed didn’t know Special Agent Quinn. Their deaths are the result of a copycat killer who is familiar with Agent Quinn’s previous caseload, but the victims themselves had never actually met her. At this point we don’t feel there’s anyone close to Agent Quinn who’s in danger.” He didn’t mention himself, but he had no intention of putting himself in the UNSUB’s cross hairs. He planned to stay close to Kaely—and his team.
Kaely nervously cleared her throat. Noah knew this was hard for her, and it made him angry. Kaely Quinn should never feel uncomfortable around other LEOs. She was the most talented agent he’d ever met. The way she’d been treated by the Bureau made him furious. He took a deep breath and forcefully tamped down his emotions. This wasn’t the time or place to give in to them.
“It’s important to remember that our UNSUB has specific targets in mind. I doubt Kaely’s friends fit his narrow parameters. He wants victims who fit previous scenarios. They will have similarities to victims of the crimes mentioned in the poem.”
“It sounds like he’s already selected them,” Lela said.
“We believe that’s true,” Noah said.
“What about the threat of fire, Agent Quinn?” Beau asked. “You know someone in St. Louis who might be targeted for the fourth murder, isn’t that right?”
“Yes, Louis Bertrand,” Kaely said. “He’s being closely watched, and he’s been questioned thoroughly. We’re looking for anyone suspicious who may have contacted him recently.” She shrugged. “His is the only case I’ve been involved in that had to do with fire. But it was done on my personal time, so no one really knows about it. Maybe Louis is the target, but if that were true, our UNSUB would have to know me or Louis pretty well.”
“Thanks. You also mentioned something about the Phillip Reagan case,” Beau said. “Supposedly it was a suicide, not a murder. Could the UNSUB know something we don’t? Could he have been involved?”
“I don’t think so,” Kaely said. “Our guy just recently went off the rails. Phillip Reagan died several years ago. But as we said, we can’t afford to rule it out at this point.”
“Do you really think your brother could be involved?” Lela asked Kaely.
She stared at Lela for a moment before answering. “I just don’t know. After . . . after my dad . . .”
She stopped and took a deep breath. Noah could see she was trying to gather her courage.
“After my father was apprehended,” she continued, “my mother took Jason and me out of the state to start a new life. Jason was just nine years old, but it affected him greatly. He shut down. Became uncommunicative. My mother got him counseling, but it didn’t seem to help. When he turned eighteen, he took off. He basically told us he didn’t want anything to do with us.” She cleared her throat and looked away for a moment. “A friend of mine, a therapist, has been in touch with him occasionally. He says Jason is convinced my mother and I knew the truth about my father. That we kept it to ourselves. Of course, this isn’t true, but since he won’t talk to me, I can’t convince him of that. A few years ago, if you’d asked me if my brother could do something like this”—she swept her hand toward the large incident board they’d set up—“I would have said absolutely not. Now? Well, I just don’t know.”
“Are you looking for him?” Beau asked.
“I’ve already done some preliminary work,” Kaely said. “He moved to Colorado after he left home. Lived there a couple of years. Then he changed his name and moved again. I believe we can find him, but it will probably take some legwork.”
“I’ll assign someone to look into that,” Ron said. “We’ll need some information from you, Kaely, to get started.”
“Not a problem,” she said. “I’m not sure I have much more information beyond what I just gave you, but I’m certainly willing to do what I can.”
“Thanks, Ron,” Noah said. “When we finish here, why don’t you get with Kaely and let her give you whatever she has, then turn that over to an investigator? Let them see what they can find out.”
“The only other suspects we have right now are friends or family of Michael Edmonds and Archie Mason?” Lela asked.
“As far as Edmonds and Mason,” Noah said, “we don’t feel either of them are strong possibilities. Archie’s family doesn’t seem like people who would murder innocent human beings to make a point. And Michael Edmonds’s girlfriend, who was pretty insistent that he was innocent, has moved on.” Noah pulled two files from the stack and tossed them in the middle of the table. “But we need to follow up anyway. Just in case.
“We’re also looking at Jerry Acosta,” Noah said, “the reporter who wrote about Kaely in Virginia. As you know, he’s here now and was the one who brought us the poem.”
“But he’s not a prime suspect,” Kaely added. “He doesn’t fit the profile. I think we need to move him off our list for now.”
“Then I take it you’ve come up with a profile,” Lela said.
“A rough one. Nothing official. I’m happy to hear what you’ve got.”
“We’ve looked over the case materials and have some ideas.”
“Kaely, why don’t you share your insights first?” Noah said.
Kaely glanced at Lela and Beau before nodding at Noah. “It’s tough to profile this guy,” she said softly.
“Why do you say the UNSUB is male?” The person asking the question was someone Noah didn’t know.
“Most serial killers are white males,” Kaely said. “The forcefulness of his language makes me believe he’s male. Also, he was able to overpower two victims so far. I would assume he’s male because of his physical strength.”
“Can you speak up?” the detective from Illinois, Peter Bridges, said. “Go back to your profile.”
“Sorry,” Kaely said. “I said he’s very hard to profile. His MO is copied from previous crimes, and it changes from victim to victim. We’re focusing on his motive. What’s driving him. His determination to challenge me . . . and then kill me. I can tell you that he’s very organized and he’s been planning this for a long time. As Lela mentioned, his victims were chosen some time ago. I believe something happened recently . . . a stressor that set him off. Whatever happened brought it to the forefront.” She took a deep breath before continuing. “I believe he’s somewhere between thirty and fifty-five. I’m a little confused by his age. He seems mature. Either he’s younger and very developed emotionally, or he’s older. We know that certain experiences increase emotional maturity faster than chronological age.”
“What do you mean by being developed emotionally?” Ron asked.
“Because of the patience and planning behind this,” Kaely said. “An older person would be more capable of this kind of behavior, yet most serial killers are in their twenties or thirties. There are always exceptions. Like Dennis Rader, who went back to killing when he was in his fifties.
“I believe he has a good job. Is respected. He probably dresses well. Presents himself well. He’s smart. Personable. Relates to people. He seems able to move around in public without much trouble. Something about him puts people at ease. He appears to have a lot of time on his hands to plan his crimes. He could be on a sabbatical, or perhaps he’s on family leave.” She frowned and looked down at the table. “Tox screens on our victims haven’t shown any drugs in their systems so, as I said, he’s strong enough to physically subdue them.” She walked over and pointed at the large corkboard on the wall. “Here’s a map that shows the two killings. I’ve marked the areas I believe are in his comfort zone, but it wouldn’t hurt to have a geographic profiler take a look at this.” She turned and gazed at the group gathered around the table. “He’s connected to me in some way. Obviously I’ve done something that has really angered him.”
“Does this profile point to your brother?” the detective from St. Louis, Jeff Armstrong, asked.
“I don’t think so. Can I rule him out completely? No, but my gut says it isn’t him.”
“But if you haven’t seen him in years, how can you be sure?”
“I can’t. I’m going on instinct.”
“So our UNSUB’s signature is his hatred of you?” Beau asked. “Can you elaborate on that a little?”
“Yes. He wants to humiliate me. Eventually, he wants to kill me. But first he has to prove he’s smarter than I am. This fulfills his emotional need.”
Reinhardt scoffed. Noah scowled at him. “If you have another point of view, we’ll be glad to hear it after Kaely’s finished.”
To his credit, Reinhardt flushed.
Noah looked at Kaely. “Sorry. Go ahead.”
Although Kaely didn’t flinch at Reinhardt’s rude reaction, Noah noticed the knuckles on her right hand turn white as she gripped her pen.
“He’s very creative. Used to getting his way. His hatred for me is everything to him. He is completely dedicated to punishing me for whatever crime he believes I’ve committed. He’s a psychopath and has no feeling for his victims.” Her eyes swept around the table. “And he won’t stop. He’ll play this out until the end. To him, the game is everything. And it is a game. A deadly game. He is playing me, and he intends to win.”
“Is that it?” Lela asked.
Kaely hesitated a moment before saying, “Yes, for now.” She came back to the table and sat down.
Noah nodded at Reinhardt. “Anything you’d like to share?”
Reinhardt stood. “Yes, I would.” He grabbed a briefcase next to his chair and put it on the table. Then he opened it and pulled out some papers. After putting his briefcase back on the floor, he cleared his throat and started reading. “I believe the UNSUB is between twenty-five and thirty-five. A loner. Someone who obsesses on people he thinks have wronged him in some way. I see him as someone who either lives alone or is still at home with one or both parents. If he has a job, it’s probably part time. Minimum wage. He has a lot of time on his hands to come up with this elaborate plot. Probably reads books about serial killers. That’s how he knows about these particular cases. Old car. Probably full of trash.” He glanced at Kaely. “I agree with Special Agent Quinn about one thing. He’s smart. Probably not book smart, but he has natural intelligence. He’s just not living up to his potential. In fact, teachers and people who know him say this very thing about him—frequently.”
Noah realized his mouth was hanging open by the time Reinhardt finished. He quickly closed it and then looked at Ron, who seemed just as shocked as he was. This profile didn’t make sense to him. Sure, it did seem the UNSUB had put a lot of effort into his plans—and he was intelligent. But the rest of Reinhardt’s profile seemed unlikely.
“Agent White and Agent Lagoski, do you agree with this profile?” Noah asked.
Lela and Beau looked at each other.
“We’re not sure,” Beau said slowly. “We really haven’t had much time to work on a profile.”
“We knew Kaely was working this case, so we didn’t feel it was our job to profile this UNSUB,” Lela said.
Reinhardt’s expression turned stormy, and Lela noticed. “But we certainly have confidence in Donald’s experience and expertise,” she added quickly.
Noah noticed she threw another quick glance at Beau. Noah looked at Kaely. It was obvious she’d seen it too. What was going on?
“I’m really disappointed in the differences in these profiles,” Noah said. “We need to be together on this.”
“I’m sorry to disagree with Special Agent Quinn,” Reinhardt said, “but this is my opinion. It will be up to you to decide who’s right. I would think my proficiency in the area of behavioral analysis would speak for itself.”
“Let’s table these profiles for now,” Ron said forcefully. It was obvious he was upset. “We have other things to work on.” He turned his head and stared at Noah. “Where do you want to start?”
Noah pointed at Detective Armstrong. “Jeff, you look for the brother. See what you can come up with.” He stared down at a list of the people working the case. Then he nodded toward the detective from Illinois. “Detective Bridges, will you and your team look into Edmonds and Mason? Check out friends and family members. We need to be certain there’s no one connected to them who might be our UNSUB. As for Jerry Acosta, let’s move him to the end of the list for now, but if anyone finds a reason to move him back up, let me know.”
Noah stood. “Let’s get busy. Everyone has a copy of the poem. Our next victim has already been selected. Kaely, Lela, Beau, and Donald. You’re with me. Let’s pull this poem apart and see what we can come up with. I think it’s our strongest lead right now.” His gaze swept around the table. “That’s it for now. Let’s catch this piece of trash.”
As everyone moved toward their stations, Ron walked up next to Noah. “I’d like to talk to you for a moment,” he said.
“Get started,” Noah told Kaely and the others. “I’ll be with you in a minute.”
As Kaely, Beau, Lela, and Reinhardt walked away, Noah turned to Ron. “Before you say anything . . .”
“What was that?” Ron said in a loud whisper. “That was completely unprofessional and never should have happened in front of the rest of the group. If you or Solomon had any idea this kind of disagreement might occur . . .”
“Look,” Noah interrupted. “I knew there was tension, but I never anticipated that Reinhardt would undermine Kaely like this. I thought he was more professional.”
“Well, you were wrong.” Ron pointed at him, his face flushed red. “You get this straightened out, Noah. We need to present a united front to the task force. That’s not what happened here.”
“I agree,” Noah said. “I’ll take care of it.”
“You’d better.” Ron turned and walked away.
Noah watched him, wondering just how he was going to handle the situation without one profiler feeling he was choosing the other. Suddenly being the agent in charge didn’t seem like such an honor.