“The guy might be a killer,” Vince said.

He went to the long chalkboard that took up most of one wall.

“This is how you build a profile, kids.”

He took a piece of chalk and wrote 1. Profile Inputs. He spoke as he noted pertinent points. “A: What did you find at the crime scene? Physical evidence, a pattern of evidence, body position, weapons.”

“We don’t have a crime scene,” Detective Hicks pointed out. “We have dump sites.”

“Make the same notes for dump sites,” Vince said. “And the fact that you don’t have a crime scene is highly significant. We’ll come back to that.

“B: Victimology. That you have. Age of the victims, occupation, background, habits, family structure, where were they last seen. C: Forensic Information. Cause of death, wounds-are they pre- or postmortem, sexual acts, autopsy report, lab reports. You have everything on two vics except the labs and the official report of autopsy on the Warwick woman. Right?”

Both detectives nodded. Sheriff Dixon sat stone-faced at the head of the table, taking it all in.

“D: Your preliminary police reports. And E: Photographs of the vics, of the crime scene and/or the dump scene.”

“We’ve got photos,” Hicks said.

“Let’s get them up on the wall, now, and I want a long table situated under the photos where we can organize copies of all the paperwork.”

While Hicks went to the large cork bulletin board and began to make room for the photographs, Vince moved to an empty section of chalkboard and wrote 2. Decision Process Models. Homicide type & Style, Primary Intent, Victim Risk, Offender Risk, Escalation, Time for Crime, Location Factors.

“You’ve already seen escalation in terms of risk to your offender,” he said. “The first victim-first two victims-were dumped in remote locations. The Lisa Warwick scene was staged and in a location right in town, where he ran a much greater risk of being seen. What purpose did that risk serve him?”

“The bigger the risk, the bigger the rush,” Mendez said.

“Publicity,” Hicks offered.

“Generates greater fear in the community,” Dixon said. “It’s about power. He can do anything he wants. We can’t stop him.”

“All of the above,” Vince said. “Have you seen any escalation in the violence of the murders?”

“Julie Paulson and Lisa Warwick both died as a result of ligature strangulation,” Mendez said. “They had both been tortured. They were both cut up. Eyes and mouths glued shut. The second body was too badly decomposed to get an accurate picture.”

“Prior to the Julie Paulson murder, was there any pattern of sexual assaults in the area?”

“Nothing related,” Dixon said. “We had six reported rapes in the county in the past year. All solved.”

“Congratulations,” Vince said. “Let’s see what we can do to get your murder clearance rate up to that standard. With regards to the sexual assaults, what about the year before last, and the year before that?”

“The year before was about the same. Before that was before my time here.”

“My question is, is this guy homegrown or did he drop here from somewhere else? Most serial killers start smaller than murder. Fetishism, window peeping, assault, rape. They work their way up over time. On the other hand, though,” he conceded, “some just nurse the violent fantasies over the years until they have to act on them to release the pressure.”

“We’re looking at known offenders,” Dixon said.

The door to the conference room opened and a uniformed deputy stepped in.

“You’re late,” Dixon said. He turned back toward Vince. “Vince, this is my chief deputy, Frank Farman. Frank, Vince Leone.”

Vince had specifically asked the sheriff to keep things casual. The less people said those three magic letters, FBI, the better.

“Vince is an expert on serial killers,” Dixon explained.

The deputy gave him a hard look and said flatly, “You’re a Feeb.”

Vince smiled like an alligator. “Have a seat, Deputy.”

“I’ll stand, thanks.”

There was one in every crowd.

“I’ve got feelers out in other parts of the country,” Vince said, “looking for any murders with a similar MO and signature. But I’ll tell you right now, based on what I’ve heard and seen so far, this guy is no amateur. He’s acting on fantasies he’s held for a long, long time, and he’s been acting on them long enough to have his routine down pat.”

“You talk about this dirtbag like he’s some kind of genius,” Farman said. “Looks to me like he’s just one sick son of a bitch.”

“Then why haven’t you caught him?” Vince challenged. “I’m assuming you’re a top cop, or you wouldn’t be in this room right now. If your perp is just some crazy guy, foaming at the mouth, running around attacking women at random, why haven’t you caught him?”

Farman had no answer for that.

“I’ll tell you why,” Vince said. “Because he’s not just some sick son of a bitch. Not in the way you mean.”

He turned back to the board and wrote 3. Crime Assessment. A: Crime Classification. B: Organized/Disorganized. (And under that heading) a: Victim Selection. b: Control of Victim. c: Sequence of Crime. C: Staging. D: Motivation. E: Crime Scene Dynamics.

He tapped the chalk at B. “A disorganized offender sees a potential victim and commits a crime of opportunity. The crime scene will be sloppy. He’ll leave the body there. This guy isn’t very smart. He’s socially immature. He’s impulsive.”

“Sounds like you, Tony,” Hicks joked.

“Very funny.”

“He isn’t interested beyond the immediate act,” Vince went on. “He isn’t looking for publicity. He’s not the kind of creep you’re looking for here. And too bad, ’cause he’s not that hard to outsmart. If this was your animal, you’d catch him today and we could all go fishing.”

“So,” Farman said, “are you going to look into your crystal ball and tell us who the killer is?”

“I’m going to tell you what he is,” Vince said. “If I were psychic, I’d be in Vegas with a wad of cash. I sure as hell wouldn’t be here looking at your ugly mugs. Sure, I’d miss all the glamour and adoration…”

A single sharp pain pierced his brain like a lance. He hid the automatic wince by turning quickly back toward the chalkboard.

“The organized offender,” he said, placing his hand on the chalk tray to counter the vertigo. He held his breath for a second, let it out, raised his hand-willing it not to shake-and started to write again. “The organized offender is intelligent, socially competent, holds down a job. He’s likely to be in a relationship. He could have a family, even. No one in his life would look at him and think he might have a second life as a predator.”

“Bundy,” Mendez said.

He took a slow, deep breath and turned back around slowly to face his audience.

“Bundy. Edmund Kemper up in Santa Cruz. John Wayne Gacy in the Chicago area. Robert Hansen from Alaska is a perfect example of an organized killer.”

“Never heard of him,” Farman said.

“The guy was a baker by trade,” Vince began. “He was a family man, a pillar of the community. He was also a sexual sadist. We think he killed around twenty-one women. His victims of choice were prostitutes. He would engage them for their services, then fly them in his own plane to his hunting cabin, rape them, torture them, then turn them loose in the wilderness, hunt them down like animals, and kill them.

“The Anchorage cops had an escaped victim at one point. The girl had a handcuff dangling from her wrist when she runs into a cop and tells him what happened. She tells how this guy had tied her up in his basement and tortured her, how she got away from him at the airport before he could get her into his plane.

“She identifies Hansen’s home as the place where she was raped and tortured. The cops take her to the airport and she identifies his plane. But when the cops go to question Hansen and tell him what the girl said, he’s outraged. He produces two business associates who say they had dinner with him the night he supposedly had the girl in the basement. It’s his word against the girl’s, and he’s so freakin’ normal, the cops believe him.