Steven James - The Knight

“Yes, I do cover it,” he said. “In depth. But I’ll summarize for you.”

Gee, thanks, I thought.

“Thanks,” I said.

“The UNSUB’s fascination with The Decameron reveals that he is smart and well-read. High IQ. He’s studied medieval literature. Probably a college graduate, maybe even did some postgrad coursework. Within Boccaccio’s stories he finds the inspiration and impetus to let his violent tendencies have free rein in his life.”

“So,” Cheyenne said thoughtfully. “You’re saying the killer is smart and has violent tendencies?”

Her sarcasm seemed to be lost on Jake. “Yes,” he said.

Smart and violent.

These insights were remarkable. Maybe I ought to be writing this stuff down.

“He doesn’t change his signature,” Jake said, “because he can’t. He kills because he gets something out of the murder. And that grows from the specific nature of each crime. It’s more related to the why than the how. Methods get refined. Murderers learn from their mistakes. But they don’t change the why. It’s almost always for power, domination, and control. In this case, the power over fate, over life and death. To catch this guy we need to focus not on where the crimes occur but on why.”

He was staring at me as he said the words, and I could sense that he was picking a fight, but I kept my mouth shut.

“So, here’s what we look at: couples. Lovers. Victim selection. Why is he choosing these couples? What do they have in common? Where do their lives intersect with his?”

He’d just told us a few seconds earlier that the where didn’t matter, and now he was suggesting we focus on where the victims’ lives intersected with the killer’s, which is what I’d suggested more than twenty-four hours ago.

At least now we were getting somewhere.

“The UNSUB’s preoccupation with love and death reveals a great deal of inner pain and turmoil,” Jake said. “He experienced profound grief in his formative years. Probably the loss of a caregiver. So, we should be looking for a highly educated man who experienced tragedy or betrayal as a child. He’s familiar with this region, probably grew up or studied here; and perhaps has access to confidential case files or restricted areas of the Federal Digital Database that allowed him to track down Taylor’s residence through the tire impressions that matched his Lexus.”

Hmm… access to the Federal Digital Database? Maybe even FALCON? Now, there’s an interesting thought But before I could consider it any further or Jake could expand on his statement, the door to the conference room swung open with a decisive bang.

It was Kurt. “Someone posted an article online about the crimes,” he said. “She knows about The Decameron. She’s calling our guy ‘The Day Four Killer.’”

“Pull it up,” I told Jake, whose computer was still connected to the wall monitor.

He tapped at his keyboard, opened his Internet browser, and typed in the phrase “Day Four Killer.”

The article “Medieval Manuscript Inspires Brutal Slayings” popped up. Jake clicked the webpage, and we all read in silence.

Overall, the article was little more than conjecture, hypothesis, and armchair profiling, but it did contain a few details that we hadn’t released to the media-some of the wording from the 911 calls, the fact that Chris Arlington’s heart had been found in the mine along with Heather’s body, and information about the attempt on Kelsey Nash’s life. The author also mentioned the pot of basil but incorrectly noted that it contained the head of Sebastian Taylor rather than Travis Nash.

Though it wasn’t illegal to write about the crimes, it was illegal to publicly share privileged information about an ongoing investigation, as this author had done. I asked Kurt if he knew anything about the author.

He shook his head. “It was written by someone named Deniece Johnson, but as far as we can tell, that’s just a pseudonym.”

With the head in the pot of basil reference, the obvious choice for the author was Amy Lynn Greer.

But still, the article’s too specific for her to have “We have a leak,” Captain Terrell said. And this time, I found myself agreeing with the fan of profilers.

For a moment everyone in the room seemed to be studying each other, looking for a guilty gesture, a suspicious action. At last, Jake surprised me and said, “I think we should postpone the briefing and look into this. Maybe we can reconvene later this afternoon.”

He looked to Captain Terrell for support.

The captain considered the suggestion, then nodded. “Everyone do your homework. Kurt, you and I will look into this article ourselves, track down the author, find our leak.” He checked the time. “We’ll meet back here at four.” A couple of the people looked at their watches and seemed to be ready to argue with the announcement, but in the end kept their mouths shut.

Four o’clock would be perfect since I’d be boarding my plane to Chicago. “Great,” I said. “Jake can finish up then.”

Then Captain Terrell dismissed everyone, except for Reggie Greer, whom he asked to join him in the hall, and I guessed that the captain shared my suspicion that Reggie’s wife Amy Lynn was the author.

Everyone left the room, but I stayed behind. Something in the article had caught my eye. I opened my laptop and surfed to the webpage.

Reread it.

Yesterday, I’d scanned the transcripts of the 911 calls on the way to Taylor’s house, and whoever wrote this article had included the phrase “dusk is coming”-a fact that the author definitely shouldn’t have known.

And that was something I could look into right away. It was possible the 911 calls would lead us to the leak.

After grabbing my things, I stepped into the hall and was both surprised and pleased to find Cheyenne waiting for me.

“Hey,” she said. “I’ve been thinking about that article.”

“Me too. I was hoping to look into the anonymous calls. I need some more details. I think I’d like to hear the audio for myself.”

She looked at me with admiration and a touch of suspicion. “How about that? I was thinking the same thing.”

“Good. You’re keeping up with me.”

“Great minds,” she said. Then she started for the elevator bank. “Dispatch is in the basement. We can check it out right now.”

As we entered the elevator, Cheyenne glanced at me. “By the way, I was impressed by your self-control in there, during Jake’s briefing.”

“Yeah, well, I’m a tactful, self-controlled kind of guy.”

“Huh. That’s good to know.” She pressed “L” for the lower level, which was actually the floor above the underground parking garage. “Then can I ask you a personal question, Mr. Tact?” She watched the elevator doors close.

“Shoot.”

We descended.

“What happened between you and Lien-hua?”

OK, that came out of nowhere.

Even though it was a little awkward to talk about Lien-hua, I took it as a good sign that Cheyenne was asking about her. “I’m not exactly sure,” I said. “But honestly, it wasn’t the old cliche of work being more important than the relationship. We were careful about that.” The elevator stopped. Beeped. “One thing maybe: right before we started seeing each other, she nearly died. Actually, she did die, but I was able to bring her back.”

“Wow.” The doors opened and we exited.

“Yes, well, I think that in time it strained things between us, made for an awkward dynamic, as if there was some sort of an obligation for her to like me, not simply a choice.”

We started down the hall.

“In addition, before she died, for a short time I thought she was involved in a biotech conspiracy. She told me she didn’t hold that against me, but I have a feeling it affected things… then she was on leave for a while…”