Chris Carter - Gallery of the Dead

‘I’m hoping you have some more information for us,’ Agent Williams said, as they all made their way toward the car.

‘I have some,’ Agent Brandon replied. ‘Information is still trickling in. The body was only found a few hours ago and it’s a big house. Forensics is still at the scene and they will probably be there until tomorrow, maybe longer. Too soon to tell right now. They have recovered a desktop computer and a laptop. Both password protected. Both already on their way to our IT experts in Quantico.’

‘Cellphone?’ Garcia asked.

‘No, nothing yet.’

As everyone took their seats inside the vehicle, Brandon handed each of them an FBI file.

‘The victim’s name was Timothy Davis,’ Agent Brandon began. ‘A thirty-year-old mechanical engineer for Raytheon.’

Hunter’s eyes narrowed at the name. ‘Raytheon? The weapons company?’

‘Technically they are a defense and national security company, sir,’ Agent Brandon replied. ‘But yes, they do produce weapons, among other things.’

‘The victim was a mechanical engineer working for a defense and national security company?’ Garcia asked.

‘That’s correct.’

‘Well, good luck trying to breach his computer and laptop password then.’

The files Agent Brandon had handed everyone opened with a portrait photograph of the victim.

The image made them all pause at a brand-new fact.

Until then, none of them had any idea that The Surgeon’s new victim had been an African American citizen.

Having interracial victims was a rare trend among serial killers. The ones who would go from one type of victim to the other tended to have their motives firmly grounded in sexual gratification. Their victims, regardless of race, more often than not, were either female sex workers — whom the killers could collect anonymously from the streets — or part of the LGBTQ community, whom they would usually pick up from clubs or bars. But even serial killers who selected interracial victims would usually stick to the same gender, targeting either only female subjects, or only male ones. The double crossover — from female to male and from one race to another — was extremely rare. Another fact that made The Surgeon unique.

‘Around 5:40 yesterday afternoon,’ Agent Brandon continued, ‘Lady luck came knocking.’

‘Lady luck?’ Agent Fisher questioned.

‘Tucson PD received a phone call from one of Mr. Davis’s neighbors,’ the agent clarified. ‘A Mr. Christopher Pendleton, who from his window had seen a stranger breaking into Mr. Davis’s property. Mr. Pendleton was supposed to be on vacation until the day after tomorrow, but had to return home this morning due to a work emergency.’

Quizzical stares were exchanged by everyone inside the SUV.

‘You said 5:40?’ Agent Williams asked.

Agent Brandon consulted his notes.

‘Yes, 5:42 to be exact.’

‘OK.’

‘With the call,’ Agent Brandon continued, ‘Dispatch sent a black-and-white unit to Mr. Davis’s address. After entering the property through its front door, which had been left unlocked, the two Tucson police officers at the scene heard a noise coming from the basement. They went down to investigate it and walked in on a man standing over Mr. Davis’s lifeless body. The man was arrested on the spot.’

‘Does this man have a name?’ Agent Fisher asked.

‘I’m sure he does,’ Agent Brandon replied. ‘But he hasn’t said a word since he’s been arrested, and since Tucson PD had specific orders not to question him, we don’t have anything. They’re waiting for you.’

‘He hasn’t said anything?’

‘Not a word, apparently. He hasn’t even lawyered up, yet.’

‘And he didn’t have any ID on him?’ Agent Fisher insisted. ‘Driver’s license, a credit card, social security... anything?’

‘Nope. No wallet, either. Just some cash on a money clip.’

‘Fingerprints?’

A headshake. ‘He’s not in the system. We really have nothing on this guy.’

‘And where’s he now?’

‘Tucson PD is keeping him at the Alvernon Way Police Station.’

‘So let’s go talk to this mysterious individual,’ Agent Fisher said.

Agent Brandon turned on the engine and geared the SUV into drive. ‘By the way, crime-scene photos are in the separate brown envelope at the back of the folder.’

As Hunter, Garcia, and both FBI agents retrieved the contents of the envelope, surprise covered their faces.

The first of the crime-scene photos showed Timothy Davis’s body lying flat on a hospital-style bed. Just like all three previous victims, he had been stripped naked and left lying on his back, with his arms naturally by his torso. His legs were fully extended, with his ankles side by side almost touching each other. The hospital bed seemed a little odd, but what had really surprised everyone was that the body seemed untouched. Timothy Davis hadn’t been skinned or scalped. His eyes hadn’t been ripped from his skull. His hands and feet hadn’t been severed either. At first look, there were no visible wounds, cuts, or even scratches to the body, until they flipped to the second of the crime-scene photographs — a close-up image of the inside of Timothy Davis’s left leg. There, a small puncture and bruise could be seen around the groin region. The third photo was a facial close-up. Timothy Davis’s eyes were shut, his mouth closed, but the look on his face was a peaceful one, as if death was something he’d been expecting for a while and was glad that it had finally arrived.

‘The killer didn’t take anything?’ Agent Fisher asked. ‘No body parts?’

Agent Brandon looked back at her inquisitively.

‘Never mind,’ she said with a shake of the head.

‘If you’re wondering about the hospital stretcher on the photo,’ Agent Brandon said, as he drove toward the runway exit, ‘it belonged to the victim.’

All eyes moved to the agent.

‘His wife passed away three and a half weeks ago,’ Agent Brandon explained. ‘She’d been battling pancreatic cancer for some time. As I understand it, once it was confirmed that there was nothing anyone could do anymore, she chose to end her days at home with her husband, not in a hospital. Mr. Davis had a fully functioning setup in the house, hence the hospital bed. He quit his job so he could stay by her side.’

‘Did they have any children?’ Hunter asked.

‘No, they didn’t.’

Everyone’s attention returned to the photographs in their files. The fourth and last photo was another full-body shot of Timothy Davis on the bed.

‘What’s happening with the post-mortem examination?’ Agent Williams asked.

‘Dr. Morgan,’ Agent Brandon replied, ‘the Chief Medical Examiner for Pima County, is probably working on it as we speak. I talked to him on the phone myself. He’ll give me a call as soon as he’s done.’

The seven-mile drive between Tucson International airport and the Police Department on South Alvernon Way was made in almost absolute silence. Everyone, except Agent Brandon, kept their attention solely on the files they were given.

‘Here we are,’ Agent Brandon said as he swung a right into the small visitors’ parking lot to the right of the police station.

The building, which was set back from the road, was an unattractive two-story rectangular structure, with a well-kept front lawn. A short concrete walkway led them to a set of dark-glass automatic sliding doors and into a spacious entry hall. The young and slender officer sitting behind the security windows at the reception counter immediately stood up as the five visitors entered the building.

‘May I help you?’ he asked after sliding open part of the window.