J. Robb - Kindred In Death

“He’s young. If he passed for nineteen, he can’t be past thirty.” She watched the people walking by, calculated their age on looks, skin tone, movement, gestures, wardrobe. “And I’d say younger than that. Mid-twenties. But he’s organized, controlled, focused. He doesn’t have a young mind, doesn’t give in to impulse-or certainly, not with this. He stalked and studied and researched his target. He knew exactly how to approach her.”

“Sociopathic tendencies, with a purpose,” Mira confirmed. “It’s a dangerous combination. While the video wasn’t an impulse, it was indulgent. He needed MacMasters to understand: This is your fault. Even the cruelty, the rape, the killing wasn’t enough unless MacMasters understood he was to blame for it. He didn’t want the father just shattered, he wanted him to understand this was a result of some prior act or offense.”

“We’re going through his cases. I’ve got a couple of lines to tug.”

“He’ll be buried there.” Mira shook her head. “Nothing and no one obvious. While it’s hard to believe this is his first kill, it may be. It was a purpose, so may very well have driven him for some time. All the evidence you’ve gathered indicates to me he knows how to acclimate, to blend, to behave in a fashion society considers normal or acceptable.”

“He’s spent time on this campus, and he has e-skills.”

“He has education. Your victim was a bright student, and she’d expect him to have education as he posed as a college student. He would do what’s expected, therefore acclimate. He has a job or a source of income. But I believe he deals with people. He would need to, to observe them, to ply his trade of being what’s expected. He probably lives alone and is considered by his neighbors, his coworkers, to be a nice young man. Friendly, helpful. He detests authority, but would be careful not to show it. Does what he’s told, and if necessary, finds a way to pay back any slight or offense.

“The police are the enemy,” Mira continued, “but it’s unlikely he’ll have a sheet. Minor stuff, perhaps, before he fully developed control and focus. More than that, this cop is the enemy, someone to be crushed. But not directly. He understands it’s more painful to take away a loved one.”

“Like MacMasters took away one of his.”

“I believe so. Yes, that would be my conclusion. If it was MacMasters and him, the punishment would have been more direct. But this punishment-it’s your fault-indicates a specific sort of payment. You took mine, I take yours.”

But who? Eve wondered, frustrated. Or what? “MacMasters has ridden a desk for a long time. He doesn’t work the streets. He’s got a rep for closing cases, or supervising cops who do. But he’s methodical, not flashy. He’s a straight arrow, and he doesn’t have any terminations. He’s never taken down a suspect on the job.”

“There are other ways to take away a loved one besides death.”

“Yeah, and I’ve thought of that. But, do you rape and kill, go through all that led up to it, because a cop had a part in sending your brother, your father, whatever, to a cage? It’s eye for eye. Death for death. It’s purpose, like you said.”

“I’m inclined to agree, but people die in prison, are killed or self-terminate. Or come out and do the same. Witnesses are murdered to prevent them from testifying, and the police work to convince them to testify. Victims are not always given justice.”

“Yeah, been there, too. How do we find this bastard’s loved one-who died, was killed, went in, got whacked-in the case files of a cop with more than twenty years on the job?”

“He’ll believe or have convinced himself that this person was or is innocent. As Deena was innocent. You might consider that this connection to the killer was abused, injured, raped, killed in or out of prison. Or one who self-terminated after release, or after an attack. I’d start looking for someone who was strangled or smothered. The method was another message. He could have beaten her to death, used a knife, given her an overdose. There are any number of ways to kill a helpless girl. He chose the method.”

“That’s right, that’s exactly right.” Eve narrowed her eyes as she turned it over. “Every detail was planned. Of course he planned the method. Not just because he wanted to see her when he killed her, not just because he wanted to use his hands. Because he had to, to make his point. It’s a good angle. We can narrow it down with that, push on that.”

She thought it through. “They’re having Deena’s memorial on Thursday.”

“There can’t be anything more painful. How is MacMasters holding up?”

“Barely. He’s ready to take the blame, even without knowing about the vid. The killer wasted time there. He asked me how he was supposed to stand it, and I didn’t have an answer. I don’t know what it’s like to have a kid, but I know when the vic’s a kid it’s harder. We all feel that. I don’t know how anyone stands it when it’s their kid.”

“Most rely on the natural order. Children bury their parents, not the other way around. Those of us who do what we do know murder, even death, has no respect for the natural order. This is a burden MacMasters and his wife will never lay down. In time, they’ll live, work, play, make love, laugh, but they won’t ever lay this down.”

“Yeah.” She thought of what Summerset had told her. “That’s what I hear. In any case, the memorial. I think he’ll find a way to be there. I think he’ll need to see the results of his work. He’ll need to see MacMasters grieve and suffer. He’d have to be absolutely sure, wouldn’t he, that he’d done the job? However focused he is, he’s still young. What’s the point of screwing with someone if you don’t see them squirm?”

“I agree. There’s a very high probability that he’ll find a way to attend, or at least find a way to observe MacMasters. The girl was the weapon. MacMasters was the goal.”

“That’s what I think. Thanks for meeting me.”

“I only regret I can’t find an excuse to work right here the rest of the day. It’s a lovely campus. I’ve given some lectures here, and attended a couple of performances, but-”

“Wait. Lectures. Performances-like theater?”

“Yes, they have an excellent theater.”

“And the public can attend this stuff?”

“Of course. They-”

“Wait.” She snapped it this time, and yanked out her ’link. “Dr. Lapkoff.”

“That was very quick.”

“I need a list of every performance, concert, lecture, vid, live, holo-open to the public from April to this past Saturday. Send it to this contact.” She read off the data for her unit at Central.

“I’ll arrange it.”

“Thanks.”

“You know Peach?” Mira asked when Eve clicked off and keyed in another code.

“Huh? Well, sort of. You know her?”

“Yes. Dennis and I are patrons of the university. He taught here for years.”

“He-really? Mr. Mira taught here?”

“You know he was a professor.”

Eve thought of Dennis Mira and his comfortable, misbuttoned cardigans, his kind eyes, charmingly vague demeanor. “Yeah, I guess I never…”

“He still gives the occasional course and often lectures. We’re very friendly with Peach and her family.”

“Small world. Jamie.” She turned back to the ’link. “Have you gone to any of the concerts, plays, lectures, whatever at Columbia since April?”

“What?” He had the glassy-eyed look of an e-geek deep in chips. “Yeah, I went to a lecture on e-crime.”

“No, not that. Something Deena would have been into.”

“You mean like singing and dancing and shit?” He gave her a look that could only come from the young and the pained. “Why would I?”