Cody McFadyen - Shadow Man

"Why else?" I ask.

"Foremost is the proverbial two-way street. Those he was speaking to would be just as concerned about the truth of his identity. Most relevant, however, is that I simply do not think it's plausible for him to make them act on their fantasies without personal interaction on his part. No. If I were him, I would take my time, look around, and make my list. Next, I would verify their identity in some way. Then I would initiate online contact. This would be followed by face-to-face meetings. From there, you can pick your method of will-bending. Perhaps it begins on a small scale.

'Let's go peeping on a sorority house. Let's beat up a prostitute, but not kill her. Now let's murder a cat, and be sure to look into its eyes as it dies.'

By building slowly, he would break down whatever flimsy morality they may have thrown up to regulate their behavior, to make them feel human. Once you've put one foot into hell, why not two? After all, and let's not forget: To them, hell feels like heaven itself."

"How long would something like that take? Conditioning a person, making them cross that line?"

He looks at me. "You're asking me how many other proteges could he have created, yes?"

"Basically."

Dr. Child spreads his hands. "That is an unknown. It depends on too many factors. How long has he been doing this? What pool does he draw from? If, for example, he were to choose recently paroled rapists to contact and mold . . . well, the jump from rape to murder is a short leap indeed."

I look into his tired eyes and take this in. How many years? How many Jack Jr. converts? We don't know. Can't know.

"One other thing bothers me about him, Doctor. You touched on it when you said he's a risk taker. This whole process of creating followers, it's a dangerous move. Any one of these 'proteges' could become a point of exposure." I shake my head. "It seems like a contradiction. On one hand, he's smart. Very smart, and very careful. On the other, he's taking huge chances. I don't get it."

Dr. Child smiles. "You haven't considered the simplest explanation for this contradiction?"

I frown. "Which is?"

"That's he's insane."

I stare at him. "That's it? 'He's insane'?"

"I'll expound some." His face gets serious. "But don't lose sight of that simple truth. It is the Occam's razor of my profession, and it has served me well, many times." He leans back. "As to specifics . . . I think there are two factors. One fits the fantasy. This twisted 'propagation of the species,' passing the Ripper torch, and so on." He pauses. "The other speaks to hungers."

"Hungers?"

"The thing that drives all serial offenders. The need to do what they do. It overcomes their cautions." He shrugs. "This process of contacting others, manipulating them, molding them, it is irrational. Aside from the broad strokes of his insanity, Jack Jr. has not been irrational. Unless there is a sensible motivation we haven't yet divined, then this deviation must be driven by something other than reason. Hungers. Some hunger is fed by doing this, and that satiation is both more satisfying and more important than his own safety."

"So basically--he's crazy."

"As I said."

I consider this. "Why the Ripper? Why the obsession with whores?"

"I believe one is the reason for the other. I feel the whores are the reason for the Ripper fantasy, not the other way around. Whoever it was that concocted this finely tuned travesty, well . . ." He shrugs. "They had a problem with women. Possibly driven by abuse or witnessed abuse. Ironically, the motivations and reasons behind this modern-day replica are probably very similar to the motivations and reasons behind the original Ripper. Woman-hate mixed with sexuality and denied desire. That old saw."

"So again--he's crazy. And whoever indoctrinated him was really crazy."

"Yes."

I look off, thinking. Predictable and unpredictable. Driven by both reason and insanity. Great. Still, I felt we knew him just a little bit better now.

"Thanks, Dr. Child. You've been a big help, as always."

Those sad, tired eyes look at me. "It's what I do, Agent Barrett. I'll make sure you get my report. And please--be careful with this one. This is something new. While new may be interesting from a clinical standpoint . . ." He pauses, looks me in the eye. "New in reality is just another word for dangerous."

I feel the dragon stir at this, defiant. "Let me give you some perspective from my side of the fence, Doctor. How he does it and why he does it? Those might be new. But what he does?" I shake my head, grim.

"Murder is murder."

"U PDATE ME."

I'm in AD Jones's office. He's called me up so that I can report to him on the progress of the case. He stops me when I get to Tommy Aguilera.

"Hold on--Aguilera? He's a civilian now, isn't he?"

"He's good, sir. Really, really good." You have no idea, I think to myself.

"I know he's good. That's not the point." The look on his face is sour. Sucking-lemons sour. "I'll let it go this time, Smoky. In the future, if you're going to bring in outside people, I need you to clear it with me."

"Yes, sir."

"Go on."

I finish with everything, up to and through the visit with Dr. Child. He takes a moment to think before clasping his hands together on the desk. "Let me make sure I have it all. He's killed two women. Each time he does, he sends you video of it. He's got a partner. He's fixated on you, to the point of sneaking into your home and bugging your phone and car. He's initiated personal attacks on the rest of your team, and threatened future ones. He's reaching out to other potential serial killers in addition to the one he's working with. He is not who he thinks he is. Do I have it so far?"

"Yes, sir."

"You have fingerprints, you probably have DNA. You have his recon MO--and your hottest lead right now is searching for the other sites he's signed up for, if he has. That about it?"

"That's a pretty good summary, sir. I want to attack this in two additional ways, and I need your permission."

"What?"

"I want to take this to the media."

His eyes grow wary. We don't like the media, most of the time. We interact with them if forced to, or, sometimes, if we think it will be useful. I feel this is one of those times. I just need to convince him.

"Why?"

"Two reasons. The first is a point of safety. The bottom line is, while we're starting to get a picture of him, we can't predict when we're going to catch him. We need to get a warning out there. It's time."

He gives me a grudging nod. "What's the second reason?"

"Dr. Child said if he were to find out about the contents of the jar, it would shake him up. Badly. It might even push him over the edge. We need to do that, sir. He's been a cool operator up to now. This is the one piece of information we have that he doesn't. It's a good weapon. I want to use it."

"He might blow up, Smoky. I'm not talking about this sick bullshit he's been pulling. I'm talking full-on guided missile, coming straight at you."

"Yes, sir. That's possible. And then we'd catch him."

He gives me a look I can't read. Stands up and goes over to his window. His back is to me as he begins speaking. "His obsession with you . . ." He turns around. "I want you to be very, very careful. I"--he hesitates--"I don't want a repeat of Joseph Sands. Ever again."

I'm at a loss for words. Because I can feel the emotion radiating from AD Jones.

"I've known you since you came into the Bureau, Smoky. Since you were young and enthusiastic and still wet behind the ears. It matters to me what happens to you. Understand?"

I see the pain in his eyes. "Yes, sir. I'll be careful."

And the pain disappears, shoved back inside somewhere. He let me see it, wanted me to know it was there. I know it might be the only time he lets me in, in that way, and I am touched and thankful.