Robin Burcell - Face of a Killer

“What was it you brought back?”

“I have no idea, a sheet full of numbers I didn’t understand, some code maybe. It’s in a bank pouch. Robert said it had to do with the BICTT records, that part of the original faction is still in operation, something called a Black Network, and that’s all I know.”

Scotty ran his hands through his hair in frustration. “Jesus. Where is it?”

“My desk.”

He stormed from the room.

“This is a secure facility. Who’s going to take it in here?” she called out.

He didn’t answer, and she hurried after him, wondering if Carillo had returned it yet. When she got there, there was nothing on her desktop, and Scotty was pulling open the drawers. No pouch. “It’s not here,” he said, looking panicked, not an emotion she usually associated with him.

Her backpack was slung over her chair, and she looked inside. The pouch was there, and she handed it over to him. “Here.”

He unzipped it, eyed the contents, then zipped it back up. “Who knows about this?” he asked, keeping his voice low.

“You and me…” And Carillo. And possibly Schermer, since Carillo told him about everything.

“This is classified. Do not discuss this with anyone.”

“Does any of this have anything to do with Senator Gnoble?”

Scotty looked around the room to make sure they couldn’t be overheard, little chance, since it was now deserted, everyone having moved on to the briefing room for Operation Barfly. “Look. The guys sent down to Baja? If they were black ops, this Black Network, or any other government agency forces, then I don’t think Gnoble was behind it.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Because we know someone from his office hired someone to kill you. And if whoever that someone is did have access to any black ops, chances are you would’ve been dead before we found out.”

She wasn’t sure if that was good news or not. “But won’t these guys come after me, because they think I still have that bank bag?”

“First thing I intend to do is make sure they know you don’t have it. From that point on, the objective changes, and it’s all about damage control.”

He walked off toward the briefing room, leaving her wondering two things. One, how the hell did he know so much about it, and two, exactly what was the “objective” before they’d realized they’d lost the bank bag.

Come to think of it, the whole “damage control” bit was disconcerting when she really stopped to think about it. She did not, however, get much time to ponder matters, as Carillo poked his head down the hall. “You want to grab those sketches and meet us? We’re getting ready to start.”

The briefing for Operation Barfly took place in the SAC’s conference room just off the front lobby. Dixon called everyone to order to give a brief outline of the discovery and connections between the crimes-just to make sure everyone was on the same page.

Sydney was standing at the back when Carillo walked up, handed her a copy of the op plan. “Just got done talking with your former sweetheart,” he said, nodding toward the front of the room, where Scotty stood just behind Doc Schermer, no doubt to keep his eye on her. “Not sure how you pulled this off, but you’re back in the game. At least tonight you’re stuck with me for a while.”

“Disappointed?”

He gave her a once-over, then shrugged. “Schermer doesn’t look near as cute in all black. You should wear it more often. And the stuff I copied? I have no friggin’ idea what it means, but the way I see it, if they were trying to kill you over it, it’s gotta be priceless.”

She glanced at Carillo, but his gaze was fixed on the front of the room, where Dixon started the briefing on their initial call out in the Reno case, Sydney’s sketch, the suspect phone call after her Jane Doe sketch appeared in the paper, recounting what the suspect told Sydney about his next victim, along with the remark about biting her.

Dixon continued with “We have a profiler assigned to the case, and so far we believe that our UnSub is what we term an organized murderer.” He then gave a partial laundry list of the organized killer, higher than average IQ, but maybe working below his intelligence level, socially competent, usually living with a partner, mobility, decent car. “This individual probably has a continued fantasy,” Dixon said. “The fact he contacted our office and Fitzpatrick after the sketch appeared tells us he’s following his crimes in the newspaper. Craves the attention.”

“What if he really is after Fitz?” one of the agents standing at the opposite end of the room called out.

Great. Like she needed any more negative attention, and she couldn’t help but glance at Scotty, thinking, if anything, he’d be using that as an excuse to get her pulled from the case. Dixon, however, continued on, unfazed. “The organized offender displays certain traits. He will often target the same type of victim-so it’s highly unlikely he is after Special Agent Fitzpatrick. I’d say it’s more likely that he has noted her name and called her simply to draw more attention to himself. In our case, he’s kidnapped two women, both from bars. One in Reno, the other here in the city. Although the Reno victim wasn’t a prostitute, she was frequenting a bar that is known for prostitution. Our Hill City victim appears to have been a prostitute, and there may be others we haven’t connected to him yet, and others we have, such as the series of Sunday rapes SFPD is investigating. Since fantasy and ritual usually dominate the organized offender, we look at the similarities in the known cases. Both victims were frequenting the same sort of bars, both dumped in shallow bodies of water, easily accessed by the public, yet in locations not likely to be frequented at late hours. He may have a fascination with water, or more likely thinks the water will help eliminate forensic evidence. He’s taken jewelry from the Reno victim, a souvenir. I expect, once we get the Hill City victim fully identified, we’ll learn he did the same with her. Both victims were bitten, and”-he looked at Carillo-“you mentioned we got a call from the forensic odontologist?”

Carillo nodded. “Received the fax this morning.” He pulled open his pocket notebook. “The report reads that our UnSub’s number eleven, maxillary left cuspid has a fractured mesial-incisal edge. For those of us who didn’t graduate from dental school, that translates to a chipped upper left canine, specifically the front corner. Oh, almost forgot,” he said, looking up. “Dr. Armand made a positive match to both victims.”

“There you have it,” Dixon said. “Once we have him identified, despite the lack of DNA, we’ve got some pretty damning evidence, including a suspect sketch, which, up until now, hasn’t been released to the local press, but has been sent to the surrounding agencies. Special Agent Fitzpatrick will be passing out copies with updated info.”

Sydney walked to the front of the room, opened the folder containing photocopies of the sketch and kept one, then handed the remaining stack to the agents at the front to pass back. “I’ve included the physical characteristics on the bottom,” she said. “We have this scanned, so if anyone needs a digital copy for some reason, let me know.”

Michael Schermer eyed the sketch. “Is there a reason for the delay in releasing this to the press?”

“Yes,” Dixon said. “We weren’t sure the cases were related. Reno PD released it in their area the moment we sent it to them, since the kidnapping occurred there. But now we believe our UnSub may also be from this area or have connections here, and we intend to hold a press conference. For now, we’re holding it back, until after tonight’s operation. We’ll reevaluate tomorrow. Any more questions before we get started on Operation Barfly?”