Reinhardt and Noah told everyone to meet at the table, but Peter held up a finger asking for some additional time. Noah nodded at him, and then headed to the back of the room.
“Don’s going to tell us what he can about the Tylenol case,” Noah said as everyone took their seats. He looked around the table. “If anyone has any other idea as to what case our UNSUB is referring to, please share. This was the only one we could tie to Kaely, but it doesn’t seem to fit our guy’s MO.”
“I’ve gone over every case I’ve ever worked,” Kaely said, “and there aren’t any poisonings. It seems like a stretch, thinking it’s the Tylenol case just because I heard John Davis talk about it at Quantico.”
“Most poisonings are one-on-one,” Noah said. “One family member trying to get rid of another. Usually there’s money involved. This doesn’t sound like something our UNSUB would be interested in.” He nodded at Don. “Go ahead. Tell us anything you think might help us.”
“I’m not exactly sure what it is about this case that will assist us in finding our UNSUB since he has a different motive and a different signature,” Reinhardt said, “but here’s a quick overview of that situation.” He looked down at a piece of paper in front of him. “The case was referred to as TYMURS by the Bureau, a portmanteau of Tylenol and murders. It happened in 1982, and there were seven deaths. The first was a twelve-year-old girl who stayed home from school because of a cold. Her mother gave her extra-strength Tylenol. The girl collapsed and died in her bathroom.
“Next to succumb was a twenty-seven-year-old postal employee. After his death, the man’s brother was so upset he gave himself a headache. Both he and his wife took Tylenol and died. Thanks to the work of two sharp firefighters who realized the deaths were related, the Tylenol bottles were confiscated and were found to contain potassium cyanide.”
Reinhardt’s eyes swept over everyone at the table. “Cyanide inhibits the blood from taking oxygen from the lungs and transporting it through the body. The victim becomes starved for oxygen. Blood pressure crashes and the heart stops.” He paused and pursed his lips before saying, “God help us if our UNSUB is going to copy TYMURS.”
“But because of this case, product packaging was changed, right?” Ron asked. “Wouldn’t it be difficult for someone to duplicate these poisonings?”
Reinhardt shook his head. “Maybe more difficult, but not impossible. Although the person behind the Chicago deaths used a powdered form of cyanide, it’s soluble. It could be injected into something. Fruit. Vegetables. And we can’t rule out other packaging. How many of you have opened something like a jar of mayo or salad dressing and wondered if you heard that seal break?”
Some uneasy looks were shared by those around the table. Noah had to admit it had happened to him, but he’d convinced himself the product was probably alright. He’d never do that again.
“See? It could be done.” Reinhardt cleared his throat and went back to his notes.
He was getting ready to continue when Ron’s phone rang. He looked down at it and frowned. “Just keep going,” he said. “I have to take this.” He got up from the table and walked away. Noah could hear him talking on his phone, but he couldn’t make out what he was saying.
“Chicago police, Illinois police, and the FBI all worked the case,” Reinhardt continued. “More than one hundred LEOs pored over every bit of information they had. The makers of Tylenol pulled the product off the shelves. No one was ever charged for the Tylenol deaths. Investigators’ number-one suspect moved away. He’s still considered to be the person behind the poisonings, but the evidence needed to indict him was never found.” Reinhardt turned his notes over. “Here’s a brief profile, although, as I said, I’m not sure what this has to do with our case. The UNSUB was profiled as a loner. Someone who had probably failed in many areas of his life: jobs, romance, social situations. A white male in his late twenties or early thirties. As with all of these cases, something happened. A precipitating stressor—a trigger. Could be the loss of his job, girlfriend, or wife. The death of someone close to him.”
One of the analysts raised his hand. Noah couldn’t remember his name. “Is there always a trigger in these cases?”
Reinhardt nodded. “In my experience there is. I must say that I’ve seen a few cases where someone had a life-changing experience years earlier but buried it until something brought it to the forefront. Something that made them feel as if the abuse . . . or whatever . . . just happened. That makes it harder to uncover the original trigger.”
The analyst nodded and thanked him.
“Anyway, the Tylenol guy feels life has given him a raw deal, and he wants someone to pay—but he doesn’t want to get his hands dirty. He’s a coward. So he found a way to kill from a distance. Davis’s profile pointed out that he might have a disability. Could be in therapy for psychological problems. Was probably the kind of person to write letters to those in authority, complaining about what he considered to be the injustice in the world. As it affected him, of course.”
“I believe there was at least one other poisoning case linked to product tampering,” Noah interjected.
“Yeah,” Reinhardt said. “A woman gave her husband extra-strength Excedrin laced with cyanide. Then she put tampered bottles of medicine in one particular store. She killed an innocent woman before she was caught.”
Noah sat back in his chair. “So what do we do if our UNSUB starts murdering random consumers? Is there anything that could help us stop him before he starts?”
“If there is, I can’t find it,” Reinhardt said matter-of-factly. “We should probably alert grocery stores and pharmacies to be particularly careful and stay on the lookout for someone who might be tampering with products. But we can’t count on every employee to be vigilant or even to know what to look for. I also think we need to ask hospitals to watch for any unexplained deaths, ask them to test for cyanide. Unfortunately, that only applies to people who are already impacted.”
“The profile for the UNSUB sounds more like the one you presented,” Lela said hesitantly. “But he’s hiding behind other profiles, making it hard for us to see him.”
Noah glanced at Kaely, who’d been noticeably quiet. He wondered what she was thinking. He was pretty sure she was still confident in her original profile.
“How far in advance could our guy have tampered with these products?” Beau asked.
“Good question,” Reinhardt said. “Cyanide is pretty corrosive. He couldn’t plant the items very far in advance. He’d have to do it when he was actually ready to kill.”
“Should we give this story to the press?” Jeff asked.
“Not yet,” Noah said quickly. “We’d start a panic. Besides, we’re not sure this is what our UNSUB is planning. However, I agree with Don. We should start contacting stores and pharmacies—and the hospitals.”
“What about shutting down sales of cyanide?” Robbie Mantooth asked. “Sorry. I know I’m just an attorney, not trained like you are, but I just wonder if we could cut this off at the source.”
“It’s a good idea,” Reinhardt said, “but cyanide is incredibly easy to obtain. Cyanide and cyanide-containing compounds are used in pesticides, among other things, and dye. Drug companies also use them. It’s even in the pits of some fruits. Once we have a suspect, we can certainly check to see if he purchased cyanide, but checking ahead of time? It would be tough. Where would we start looking? There are just too many ways to appropriate it.”
Noah sighed audibly. “So is there anything here you think will help us, Don?”
Reinhardt was quiet for a moment. Finally he said, “Except for the suggestions already mentioned, I don’t think so. I’m afraid it’s the best we can do.”
Noah bit his lip and stared down at the table. “Okay,” he said after a long pause. “Let’s get started. Detectives, please start with the places Don suggested. You’ll need help from your departments.”
“What do you want me to do?” Kaely asked.
“Stay here. I want to talk to you.” He waved his hand at the rest of the people gathered around the table. “Move quickly. We may not have much time.”
“Hold up.”
Noah looked up to see Ron standing at the other end of the table. His face was white. It was as if he’d seen a ghost.