“Understood. The age of the victim and the connection to a police officer make it a priority. Can we speak here?”
“Yeah.” Eve sat beside her. “You read the file.”
“Yes.” Mira touched her hand briefly to Eve’s, a gesture they both knew acknowledged the painful memories of Eve’s childhood. “Would you have taken this case if MacMasters hadn’t asked for you specifically?”
“I don’t cherry-pick assignments.” The sharp tone, the defensive-ness in it, caught Eve off guard. She shook it off. “If I can’t handle what comes to me,” she said, “I don’t deserve the badge. That’s that.”
“For you, yes, I agree. Not with the philosophy, but with your belief in it. She’s lucky to have you-Deena-because you understand what she faced in those last hours of her life.”
“It’s not the same.”
“No, it’s never the same. And, conversely, it’s precisely the same. I need to ask before we discuss the case, about your nightmares and flashbacks. I need to ask,” Mira repeated, gently, when Eve’s face went blank. “If this case exacerbates them-”
“It’s not. It won’t. They’re not as bad.” Dragging a hand through her hair, Eve struggled to put annoyance at the personal queries aside. Mira was right, she admitted, the question needed to be asked. “I still have them, but they’re not as… severe,” she decided. “They’re not as frequent or as intense. I think I’ve come to a place-I don’t know-it happened, and nothing can change what he did to me. But I stopped him. If I go back, in the nightmares, I can stop him again if I have to. He doesn’t have the power anymore. I do.”
“Yes.” Mira’s smile was as brilliant as the sunlight, and again she laid her hand over Eve’s. “You do.”
“I can’t stop the nightmares, but I can handle them better now. They’re not a dance in a meadow, which I don’t get anyway. Why is dancing in a meadow with all that tall grass hiding whatever’s slinking around under it, and the bugs flying around your head such a fun deal?”
“Hmm” was the best Mira could think of.
“What I mean is I don’t look forward to getting jerked around by my subconscious, but it doesn’t kick my ass nightly, not anymore.”
“I’m glad to hear it. Very glad.”
“I had a few moments, looking at Deena, at what was done to her, that had me a little shaky. But I got through it. It won’t affect my ability to lead the investigation.”
“I’d worry about your ability to lead the investigation if you weren’t touched in some way by what was done to her.”
Eve said nothing for a few moments. “And you brought this up, pushed it, so I could get it out. So I wouldn’t have it sneaking around in the back of my mind.”
Mira gave Eve’s hand a quick pat. “Did it work?”
“Apparently.”
“Well, good for me. And you. And Deena.”
“Okay.” Done, Eve thought. For now. “Did you review the video?”
“Yes. Particularly cruel, isn’t it? To force the girl to say those things, to intend the father to hear them, to show, graphically to the father the result.”
“No question it was a message to MacMasters.”
“No, none. It was all a message. The location, the use of police restraints, the method, and even the length of time the killer spent. Hours.”
“He enjoyed it,” Eve commented. “He enjoyed stretching it out.”
“Undoubtedly. But more, it’s a form of bragging. An in-your-face gesture. I did this to what you loved, in your own home, and I took my time.”
“He made her suffer, wanted MacMasters to know she’d suffered, that he’d had total power over her.”
“The rapes are another form of that power, and that message. I violated her, hurt her, humiliated her, terrified her, took her innocence before I took her life.” Mira shifted, angling toward Eve. “And he did so by first charming and dazzling her, making her feel something for him, believe he felt something for her.”
“It hurts more that way.” Eve studied the students strolling or jogging by. “Hurts her more when she understands he felt nothing.”
“It adds to it, to that power. He deceived her first, developed a relationship with her that took effort and time-and again he took his time. He enjoyed the planning, the deceit, her romantic entanglement with him as much as the killing itself.”
“He’s young. If he passed for nineteen, he can’t be past thirty.” She watched the people walking by, calculated their age on looks, skin tone, movement, gestures, wardrobe. “And I’d say younger than that. Mid-twenties. But he’s organized, controlled, focused. He doesn’t have a young mind, doesn’t give in to impulse-or certainly, not with this. He stalked and studied and researched his target. He knew exactly how to approach her.”
“Sociopathic tendencies, with a purpose,” Mira confirmed. “It’s a dangerous combination. While the video wasn’t an impulse, it was indulgent. He needed MacMasters to understand: This is your fault. Even the cruelty, the rape, the killing wasn’t enough unless MacMasters understood he was to blame for it. He didn’t want the father just shattered, he wanted him to understand this was a result of some prior act or offense.”
“We’re going through his cases. I’ve got a couple of lines to tug.”
“He’ll be buried there.” Mira shook her head. “Nothing and no one obvious. While it’s hard to believe this is his first kill, it may be. It was a purpose, so may very well have driven him for some time. All the evidence you’ve gathered indicates to me he knows how to acclimate, to blend, to behave in a fashion society considers normal or acceptable.”
“He’s spent time on this campus, and he has e-skills.”
“He has education. Your victim was a bright student, and she’d expect him to have education as he posed as a college student. He would do what’s expected, therefore acclimate. He has a job or a source of income. But I believe he deals with people. He would need to, to observe them, to ply his trade of being what’s expected. He probably lives alone and is considered by his neighbors, his coworkers, to be a nice young man. Friendly, helpful. He detests authority, but would be careful not to show it. Does what he’s told, and if necessary, finds a way to pay back any slight or offense.
“The police are the enemy,” Mira continued, “but it’s unlikely he’ll have a sheet. Minor stuff, perhaps, before he fully developed control and focus. More than that, this cop is the enemy, someone to be crushed. But not directly. He understands it’s more painful to take away a loved one.”
“Like MacMasters took away one of his.”
“I believe so. Yes, that would be my conclusion. If it was MacMasters and him, the punishment would have been more direct. But this punishment-it’s your fault-indicates a specific sort of payment. You took mine, I take yours.”
But who? Eve wondered, frustrated. Or what? “MacMasters has ridden a desk for a long time. He doesn’t work the streets. He’s got a rep for closing cases, or supervising cops who do. But he’s methodical, not flashy. He’s a straight arrow, and he doesn’t have any terminations. He’s never taken down a suspect on the job.”