John Lutz - Mister X

Joyce didn't like this game. Not so far, anyway. She fought off a wave of nausea and tried to keep calm so she wouldn't gag on the bunched material.

This is disgusting!

If he persisted in playing rough she'd have to tell him about it, let him know in no uncertain terms that it wasn't for her. And there was something else about the wadded panties being stuffed into her mouth. She'd heard or read something…

In the news?

Oh, God! No, No, NO!

He leaned closer to her, and she could feel his warm breath on her face. Smelled the sex on it, their sex.

She shook her head wildly and moaned through the wadded cloth, trying to tell him she didn't understand what they were doing, what he wanted. Trying desperately to plead.

He shifted his weight forward, and his knees bore down harder, firmly and painfully pinning her arms to the bed. He was gazing down at her fondly as he held out something for her to see.

He spoke through a smile. "Let me tell you what I'm going to do with this knife."

Softly and in minute detail, he described to her everything as he was doing it, until she was no longer listening.

More heat this morning, and Quinn thought that if it got any more humid things might start to float.

"So there are slight differences in the M.O.s of the Sanders killing and the earlier murders," Fedderman said. His bald pate was perspiring beneath his comb-over. "The Carver's been on vacation, and he's rusty."

Pearl was perched with her haunches on the edge of her desk. She was the only one of the three who looked reasonably cool. In fact, Quinn thought she looked great today, wearing tight beige slacks, a yellow blouse made of some sort of silky material, and white shoes with some heel to them-not like her usual clunky black cop shoes. Her lustrous black hair was combed back and held by some sort of round silver barrette, and her makeup had been applied with obvious care. It all made her look more like Pearl than ever. She hadn't just piled out of bed, showered, and dressed damp this morning. What was she up to? Quinn was afraid to consider.

"Feds is right," she said. "People change over time. Even serial killers."

"He hasn't changed enough," Quinn said.

Pearl shrugged in the silky blouse in a way Quinn liked. "It's not as if we might mistake him for some other guy who de-nipples women, carves the letter X on them, and slits their throats."

"Maybe, but unfortunately there are more than a few guys who wouldn't mind meeting those requirements."

"Anyone else happen to see her at the crime scene?" Fedderman asked.

Pearl looked at him. "See who? What the hell are you talking about?"

"Our shadow woman. Dressed in gray. She was standing across the street when we were talking with Nift. I saw her, looked away when Nift said something, and when I looked back she was gone."

"Running outfit with a hood?" Quinn asked.

Fedderman nodded.

"I had more or less the same experience."

"I noticed her," Pearl said. "But what makes you think she wasn't simply some woman from the neighborhood who was out running and stopped to see what all the commotion was about?"

"No," Fedderman said. "There was definitely something creepy about her."

"Because you wanted to see something creepy. The shadow woman was on both your minds."

"My mind doesn't fool itself that easily," Fedderman said.

"How would it know?" Pearl asked.

She walked over and got a cup of coffee. Fedderman watched her. Quinn watched them both, like a man watching inclement weather developing.

The door opened, and a woman stepped inside.

Everyone looked at her.

She looked as put together as Pearl, but that was about all they had in common. This woman was tall and slender-a fashion model's build. She was wearing a dark gray blazer and lighter gray slacks. Shoes with silver buckles and flat heels. On top of the model's body was a model's face, strong-featured with prominent cheekbones, full lips, and intriguing eyes that appeared blue at a glance but were actually brown.

She smiled, but before she could introduce herself, Quinn said, "This is Adelaide Price." He nodded toward Pearl and Fedderman as he introduced them, and then himself. "Ms. Price is going to join us," he said.

Pearl didn't like surprises from Quinn. They usually meant impending trouble. "What do you mean, 'join us'? Are we all going out for a doughnut fest?"

"It's Addie," the woman said. "I'm glad to meet you all, and doughnuts sound all right to me."

Pearl didn't like the husky, sexy voice, like a cat seducing mice. She also didn't like the way the two mice were staring at the woman.

"I'm assuming Commissioner Renz contacted you about me," Addie said.

Quinn seemed to drift up out of his trance. "He did, Addie, but I haven't had a chance to fill in Pearl and Feds-Fedderman."

"Just Feds is okay," Fedderman said to Addie. Got him a smile.

Addie Price sat in the client's chair while Quinn explained to Pearl and Fedderman that she was now part of the investigation as a crime psychologist and profiler. She'd had plenty of experience with the Detroit police and as a freelancer and media personality. She'd written a book. Without being too obvious, he made it clear to them that this was Renz's idea and they had no choice.

"I've already met Vitali and Mishkin," Addie Price said, when Quinn was finished.

"Great," Quinn said. "I've got a desk coming for you, Addie, but it won't get here till this afternoon. Pearl and I will be in the field this morning, and Feds can bring you up to date on the case."

"I'm already somewhat up to date on it," Addie said. "I have a special interest."

"Renz explained that," Quinn said.

Pearl waited for him to say more, but he didn't. Neither did Addie Price.

"We're becoming quite a task force," Pearl said in a neutral tone.

A profiler assigned by Renz. One who'd be taking an active part in the investigation. Pearl didn't like this a bit.

"Whatever it takes," Fedderman said. He was not going to be on Pearl's side when it came to Addie Price. "We can use my desk," he said to Addie, "and we need to get you a coffee mug with your initials on it."

"Gold ones," Pearl said.

Addie gave her a look. It was easy to read: We're sisters in a man's world. For God's sake, give me a chance.

"What's with this book?" Fedderman asked.

Addie made a pass at looking modest. "Oh, it's one of those dry academic things. Crime Profilng in the Context of Modern Society. It's a padded version of my doctoral dissertation."

Pearl thought, Jesus H. Christ!

"Pearl and I will be down in Chelsea," Quinn said, "seeing if we can find somebody who knew Maureen Sanders or saw or heard anything unusual. Maybe some of the other street people around there knew her."

He got his suit coat from where it hung on a wire hanger and draped it over his arm. A few long steps and he was at the door.

"Good to meet you, Addie," he said. He held the door open for Pearl.

"Welcome aboard, Addie," Pearl said, with a wide, warm smile. "We can use all the help we can get."

Thinking, Spy.

They took Quinn's Lincoln for the drive downtown. He got behind the steering wheel as Pearl opened the door on her side and slid in to sit next to him. She fastened her seat belt and stared straight ahead.

Quinn didn't drive away immediately. They sat with the engine running almost silently, the car's air-conditioning fighting the good fight against the heat. Pearl didn't feel like a caution from Quinn, but she could sense one coming.

"She seems nice," she said, not looking over at Quinn. Perhaps she could divert this conversation with a modicum of bullshit.

"This is Renz's idea," he said. "He's the unseen hand running the investigation."