Mark said, “But Roland stayed on staff with Havoc? He didn’t fire her?”
“She’s worked for him since the gym opened,” Levi said. “Maybe she and Havoc are tight. Or maybe firing her would’ve given credence to that lawsuit. Anyway, Havoc has driven off plenty of trainers... but not her or Carlyle.”
“What about Carlyle?”
“No criminal record. He did report a gun stolen about six years ago. But that’s it.”
“Nothing else?”
“Carlyle seems clean from the outside.”
Jordan said, “Why are you even considering this Patti Roland? I saw the intruder — it’s a man.”
Briefly David explained that serial killers sometimes worked in teams, including male-female duos.
“Well, then,” Jordan said, “she must have been waiting in the car or something. Because we were hit by one bastard.”
Around them, the lunchtime cacophony had trailed off and the shop, which had been fairly crowded, was slowly emptying.
“The one thing,” Levi said thoughtfully, “that still has me completely stymied is—”
“Motive,” Jordan said.
“Exactly,” Levi said. “I understand with this type of criminal we aren’t looking at something as rational as wanting or needing money. Or killing somebody you hate, like an unfaithful wife or a mean-ass employer.”
Phillip said, “These are senseless crimes. They can’t be analyzed for motive.”
“No,” Mark said. “There is, as the old saying goes, method to his madness. We just haven’t figured it out yet.”
Kay cocked her head. “I thought serial killers killed just to... kill.”
Mark shook his head. “No, there’s something behind this... but I grant you it’s not apparent on the surface. Serial killers don’t jump ethnic groups, as a rule — this one does. They usually have particular ‘tastes,’ for lack of a better word — this one doesn’t. Men, women, young, old, even children, black, white, Hispanic. This guy is all over the place. Income-wise, too. Rich or poor, middle class, it just doesn’t matter to him. Right now the family aspect is all we have.”
David said, “Something is driving him.”
“Or them,” Phillip reminded.
“A killing duo doesn’t seem likely to me,” Mark said. “But we can’t rule out anything, and knowing the killer’s motive would be a big step in figuring out what he’s up to. Figuring out why these crimes are dissimilar enough to not attract FBI attention. It might even tell us when he’s going to strike next.”
David said, “And there will be a next.”
Silence.
Jordan broke it: “That’s why I knew it was time to get the hell out of St. Dimpna’s — the news coverage of the Sully family. I knew he was never going to stop killing unless someone stopped him.”
Phillip said, “Surely you weren’t planning to try to do that by yourself?”
“If need be, you bet your ass. I knew how I suffered, and now I know how all of you suffered. Someone has to stop the son of a bitch... and, all due respect to our guest, if the police won’t, we have to.”
Levi said, “Fine speech, kid, but we’re still stuck at motive.”
“Something Jordan mentioned,” Mark said.
“Me?”
“Yeah. You. What you told me he said to you. Can I share that?”
“If you think it will help.”
Mark told them the killer had recited a Bible verse after his killing spree at the Riveras’: “ ‘Thou shalt not wear a garment of different sorts, as of woolen and linen together.’ ”
“Deuteronomy,” Phillip said.
“22:11,” Mark said.
Levi said, “Phillip teaches religion online. What’s the meaning of that verse, anyway?”
Phillip frowning was not a pleasant sight. “I don’t see that it is apropos of anything much. It may mean that one shouldn’t give into the vain fashions of the world, and save their respect for the Lord. It might mean to maintain purity of heart and deed. I can give it some thought, and research it, if you like.”
“Please,” Mark said.
Then the detective pushed back his chair and stood, smiling in a businesslike way and nodding at them, one at a time. “Afraid I’ve got to get back to work. Keep digging for the motive. Meantime, I’ll check up on those two employees of Havoc’s.”
Jordan walked Mark out.
“We have figured one thing out,” Mark said. “Or anyway, my partner Pence did.”
“What?”
“The cop uniform your intruder wore. Your memory is probably right. It was ‘Funkytown.’ ”
“That’s crazy!”
“No. Remember the badge number?”
“Sure. Sixty-nine.”
“A crude sexual reference. That was a costume, a cop costume used by male strippers.”
She frowned. “So your latest lead is male strippers?”
“No, I’m glad to say. That kind of thing is readily accessible on the Net or for cash at any number of sleazy sources, from adult bookstores to pawnshops. But that’s helpful information.”
“How so?”
“We can rule out real cops.”
They were at his Equinox.
“Listen,” she began, “I, uh... I want to thank you.”
“For what?”
“For taking our little team seriously. I don’t think you’ll be sorry you did.”
“I’m sure I won’t. They’re doing good work. This is the kind of support I wish the department was giving me.”
“That’s a relief to hear.”
“Oh, no, this is fine. This is great. We keep this up, it won’t be long till we’ll have enough so that my captain will have to listen.”
Mark grinned at her, gave her a little squeeze of the shoulder (she didn’t mind), and got into his Equinox and drove off, obviously feeling he’d given her good news.
But if Mark was right, it wouldn’t be long before the cops and the FBI would be tracking the intruder, and what she wanted was to beat them to the bastard. She didn’t want him to spend the rest of his life in prison, or living out decades on death row, with appeal after appeal. She wanted to kill him. She wanted to watch him die.
Was that so wrong?
Chapter Fifteen
For four hours at his kitchen table, hunkered over his laptop, Levi had been figuratively banging his head against the wall and was at the point where doing that literally seemed like a viable option. Every time he had hold of something, it evaporated, as if he were chasing a ghost. He was starting to think that’s what Bradley Slavens was — somebody who’d fallen off the grid and died and nobody noticed.
At least nobody on the Net.
An unnoticed death, however, was not as likely as somebody’s concerted effort to disappear — if so, Havoc’s gymnastics coach/assistant had done a hell of a job of it.
Up and vanishing was no easy task, in this world of forms and security cameras and voter ID. So much out there could give you away — an ATM card hung onto a little too long, a cell phone not thrown away, credit cards, car registrations, a forwarded check for a damage deposit... so many ways to slip up. To accidentally exist.
That meant Levi had to painstakingly track each such lead as best he could, and every time he hit a dead end, he recalled how frustrating it was to be a kid in an arcade who got killed on his last quarter.
Still, he had diligence on his side, and odds were Slavens had missed something somewhere — most everybody did. Chasing each lead down, Levi could only think, We don’t even know if this is the guy — I may be wasting my time, looking for somebody who isn’t really even a suspect yet... just a potential one.