KATHY REICHS - DEJA DEAD

?Emile Roy.?

? Oui .?

Again the look.

?That isn?t all,? said Ryan. ?He used the monastery to do Trottier and Gagnon. Took them there, killed them, dismembered their bodies in the basement. He cleaned up after himself, so Roy wouldn?t suspect, but when Gilbert and the boys gave the cellar a Luminol spray this morning it lit up like halftime at the Orange Bowl.?

?That?s how he also had access to Le Grand S #233;minaire, ? I said.

?Yeah. Says he got that idea when he was following Chantale Trottier. Her father?s condo is right around the corner. Roy keeps a board at the monastery with all kinds of church keys hanging on hooks, neatly marked. Fortier just lifted the one he wanted.?

?Oh. And Gilbert has a chef?s saw for you. Says it glows.? Ryan.

He must have seen something in my face.

?When you?re feeling better.?

?I can hardly wait.? I was trying, but my bruised brain was withdrawing again.

The nurse came in.

?This is police business,? Claudel said.

She folded her arms and shook her head.

? Merde .?

She ushered them out quickly, but returned in a moment. With Katy. My daughter crossed the room without a word and clasped both my hands in hers. Tears filled her eyes.

Softly, ?I love you, Mom.?

For a moment I just looked at her, a thousand emotions boiling inside me. Love. Gratitude. Helplessness. I cherished this child as no other being on earth. I desperately wished for her happiness. Her safety. I felt completely unable to assure her of either. I could feel tears of my own.

?And I love you, darling.?

She dragged a chair close and sat alongside my bed, not releasing my hands. The fluorescent light gleamed a halo of blond around her head.

She cleared her throat. ?I?m staying at Monica?s. She?s commuting to McGill for summer school and living at home. Her family is taking good care of me.? She paused, unsure what to say, what to hold back. ?Birdie is with us.?

She looked toward the window, back at me.

?There?s a policewoman who talks to me twice a day and will bring me here whenever I want.? She leaned forward, resting her forearms on the bed. ?You haven?t been awake very much.?

?I plan to do better.?

A nervous smile. ?Dad calls every day to make sure I don?t need anything and to ask about you.?

Guilt and loss joined the emotions that were churning in me. ?Tell him I?m fine.?

The nurse returned quietly and stood next to Katy, who took her cue. ?I?ll be back tomorrow.?

It was morning when I got the next installment on Fortier.

?He?s been a nuisance sex offender for years. Got a sheet going back to 1979. Kept a girl locked up for a day and a half when he was fifteen, but nothing ever came of it. The grandmother kept it out of court, no arrest record. Mostly, he?d pick out a woman, follow her, keep records of her activities. He finally got busted for assault in 1988-?

?The grandmother.?

Another Claudel look. I noticed his silk tie was the exact mauve of his shirt.

? Oui . An evaluation by a court-appointed psychiatrist at that time described him as paranoid and compulsive.? He turned to Ryan. ?What else did that shrink write? Tremendous anger, potential for violence, especially against women.?

?So he got six months and walked. Typical.?

This time Claudel just stared at me. He pinched his eyes at the bridge of his nose and continued.

?Except for the kid and Granny, Fortier up to that point hasn?t really done much beyond nuisance stuff. But he gets a real rush killing Grace Damas, decides to move on to bigger things. It?s right after that he rents his first hidey-hole. The one on Berger was only his latest.?

?Didn?t want to share his hobby with the little woman at home.? Ryan.

?Where did he get the rent money with only a part-time job??

?Wife works. He probably squeezed it from her, told her some lie. Or maybe he had another hobby we don?t know about. We?re sure going to find out.?

Claudel continued in his detached, case-discussing voice.

?The next year he begins stalking in earnest, going about it systematically. You were right about the M #233;tro. He?s got a thing about the number six. He starts out riding six stops, then follows a woman that fits his profile. His first random hit is Francine Morisette-Champoux. Our boy gets on at Berri-UQAM, gets off at Georges-Vanier and follows her home. He tracks her for several weeks, then makes his move.?

I thought of her words and felt a rush of anger. She wanted to feel safe. Untouchable in her home. The ultimate female fantasy. Claudel?s voice reconnected.

?But the free stalk is too risky, not controlled enough for him. He gets the idea of using real estate signs from the one on the Morisette-Champoux condo. It?s the perfect in.?

?Trottier?? I felt sick.

?Trottier. This time he takes the green line, rides his six stops, and gets off at Atwater. He walks around until he spots a sign. Daddy?s condo. He watches, takes his time, sees Chantale come and go. Says he spotted the Sacr #233; C?ur logo on her uniform, even went to the school some days. Then the ambush.?

?By this time he?d also found a safer killing spot,? added Ryan.

?The monastery. Perfect. How did he get Chantale to go with him??

?One day he waits until he knows she?s alone, rings the bell, asks to see the condo. He?s a potential buyer, right? But she won?t let him in. A few days later he pulls up next to her as she?s leaving school. What a coincidence. Claims he had an appointment with her father, but no one showed up. Chantale knows how badly the old man wants to sell the place, so she agrees to walk him through. The rest we know.?

The fluorescent tube above my bed buzzed softly. Claudel went on.

?Fortier doesn?t want to risk another body on the monastery grounds, so he drives her all the way up to St. Jerome. But he doesn?t like that either. It?s too long in the car. What if he got stopped? He?s seen the seminary, remembers the key. Next time he?ll do even better.?

?Gagnon.?

?Learning curve.?

? Voil #224; .?

At that moment the nurse appeared, a younger, gentler version of my weekday keeper. She read my chart, felt my head, took my pulse. For the first time I noticed that the IV was gone from my arm.

?Are you getting tired??

?I?m fine.?

?You can have another painkiller if you need it.?

?Let?s see how it goes,? I said.

She smiled and left.

?What about Adkins??

?He gets agitated when he talks about Adkins,? said Ryan. ?Closes up. It?s almost as if he?s proud of the others, but feels different about her.?

A medicine cart passed in the corridor, rubber wheels gliding silently over tile.

Why didn?t Adkins fit the pattern?

A robotic voice urged someone to dial 237.

Why so messy?

Elevator doors opened, whooshed shut.

?Think about this,? I said. ?He?s got the place on Berger. His system is working. He finds his victims with the M #233;tro and the ?for sale? signs, then he tracks them until the right moment. He has a safe place to kill and a safe place to dump the bodies. Maybe it?s working too well. Maybe the rush isn?t there anymore, so he has to up the stakes. He decides to go back into the victim?s home, like he did with Morisette-Champoux.?

I remembered the photos. The disheveled warm-up suit. The dark red pool around the body.

?But he gets sloppy. We found out he called ahead to make an appointment with Margaret Adkins. What he didn?t count on was the husband phoning during his visit. He has to kill her quickly. He has to cut her fast, mutilate her with something close at hand. He pulls it off, gets away, but it?s rushed. He?s not in control.?

The statue. The severed breast.

Ryan nodded.

?Makes sense. The kill is just the final act in his fantasy of control. I can kill you or let you live. I can hide your body or display it. I can deprive you of your gender by mutilating your breasts or vagina. I can render you powerless by cutting off your hands. But then the husband calls and threatens his whole fantasy satisfaction.?