Lisa Gardner - The killing hour

“People cover for their own.”

“So the entire GBI is in on the crime? We’ve simply gone from coincidence to conspiracy theory.”

Quincy held up his hand, attempting to cut off this argument before it got going. Again. “What about the ad?” he asked Kaplan.

“According to the Public Affairs Officer, the ad arrived yesterday, with instructions to run in today’s paper. The Quantico Sentry , however, is a weekly paper. Next edition doesn’t come out until this Friday. Besides, the officer didn’t like the look of the ad. Seemed like code to him, maybe something drug related, so he passed it my way.”

Kaplan pushed a photocopy of the ad in question across the table. It was a small, two-by-two-inch box, outlined with a black border and containing one block of text. The text read: Dear Editor, Clock ticking… planet dying… animals weeping… rivers screaming. Can’t you hear it? Heat kills…

“Why an ad?” Watson spoke up.

“ Quantico Sentry doesn’t do letters to the editor.”

“What are the rules for ad submissions?” Quincy asked.

Kaplan shrugged. “The newspaper is a civilian enterprise, published in cooperation with the Public Affairs Office here on the base, so it covers anything topical to the area. Lots of local merchants advertise, charities reach out, services for military personnel, etc. It’s no different really from any other small, regional paper. Ads must be submitted typeset and with a payment. Otherwise, you’re pretty much good to go.”

“So our guy took the time to learn the submission requirements for an ad, but still didn’t realize the paper wouldn’t print it today?” Watson asked skeptically. “Doesn’t seem too bright to me.”

“He got what he wanted,” Quincy said. “It’s the next day, and we’re reading his message.”

“Pure chance,” Watson said dismissively.

“No. This man does everything with a purpose. Quantico Sentry is the Corps’ oldest newspaper. It’s part of their tradition and pride. Putting his message in this paper is the same as dumping a body on the base. He’s bringing his crime close to home. He’s demanding our attention.”

“It fits the pattern,” Rainie said. “So far we have the same MO as with the Eco-Killer, and now we have the letter too. I’d say the next step is pretty obvious.”

“And what would that be?” Watson asked.

“Call McCormack! Get him back in on this thing. He knows this guy better than we do. And, since there’s probably another girl out there, maybe we ought to get some experts looking once more at the body, let alone those little details like the rattlesnake, leaf, and rock. Come on. As the ad says, the clock is ticking, and we’ve already wasted the entire day.”

“I sent them to the lab,” Kaplan said quietly.

“You did what?” Rainie asked incredulously.

“I sent the rock, the leaf, and, well, the various snake bits to the Norfolk crime lab.”

“And what the hell is a crime lab going to do with them? Dust them for prints?”

“It’s not a bad idea-”

“It’s a fucking horrible idea! Weren’t you listening to McCormack before? We’ve got to find the girl! ”

“Hey!” Quincy’s hand was up again, his voice loud and commanding across the table. Not that it did much good. Rainie was already half out of her chair, her hands fisted. And Kaplan appeared just as eager for a battle. It had been a long day. Hot, tiring, wearing. The kind of conditions that led to an increase in bar brawls, let alone a deterioration of cooperation in multi-jurisdictional homicide cases.

“We need to proceed along two tracks,” Quincy continued firmly. “So shut up, sit down, and pay attention. Rainie’s correct-we need to move quickly.”

Rainie slowly sank back down into her chair. Kaplan, too, grudgingly gave him his attention.

“One, let’s assume that perhaps this man is the Eco-Killer. Ep, ep, ep!” Kaplan was already opening his mouth to protest. Quincy gave him the same withering look he’d once used on junior agents, and the NCIS agent shut right up. “While we cannot be one hundred percent certain of this, the fact remains that we have a homicide that fits a pattern previously seen in Georgia. Given the similarities, we need to consider that another woman has also been abducted. If so, according to what happened in Georgia, we need to start approaching the evidence we’ve found on the body as pieces of a geographic puzzle.” He looked at Kaplan.

“I can arrange for some experts in botany, biology, and geology to look at what we have,” the special agent said grudgingly.

“Quickly,” Rainie spoke up.

Kaplan gave her a look. “Yes, ma’am.”

Rainie merely smiled at him.

Quincy took a deep breath. “Two,” he said, “we need to explore some broader avenues. While I’ve read summaries of the Georgia case notes, it seems clear to me that they’ve never come close to knowing much about the killer. They generated a profile and a list of suppositions, none of which has ever been proven either way. I think we should start clean-slate, generating our own impressions based on this crime. For example, why plant the body on Quantico grounds? That seems clearly like a man who is making a statement against authority. He feels so invincible, he can operate even within the heart of America’s elite law enforcement agency. Then we have the UNSUB’s various letters to the editor, as well as his phone calls to Special Agent McCormack. Again this raises several questions. Is this an UNSUB seeking to reassert his feelings of power and control? Or is this a conflicted man, who is reaching out to law enforcement in the dim hope that he will be caught? Also, is the anonymous caller really our UNSUB, or someone else entirely?

“And there is a third motive we should also contemplate. That this killer’s game is not targeted at either the Marines or the FBI, but rather, at Special Agent McCormack specifically.”

“Oh, you have got to be kidding me,” Kaplan grumbled.

Quincy gave the man his cool, hard stare. “Assume for a moment that the anonymous caller is the UNSUB. Through his comments, he brought Special Agent McCormack to Virginia. It stands to reason, then, that the UNSUB already had a plan of attack in mind for this area. And furthermore, as part of this plan, he knew of Special Agent McCormack’s whereabouts and thus made sure to start the game here. The ad in the Quantico Sentry would fit this pattern. As of Friday, the paper would be distributed all over the base. Surely McCormack would get the hint.”

Rainie appeared troubled. “That’s getting out there,” she said quietly.

“True. Killers rarely target a specific member of law enforcement. But stranger things have happened, and as the lead officer, McCormack was the most visible member of the Georgia task force. If the UNSUB were going to identify with a specific target, McCormack would be the logical one.”

“So we have two options,” Rainie murmured. “A garden-variety psychopath trying to mess with McCormack’s head. Or a more troubled, guilt-stricken nut who’s still murdering girls, but showing signs of remorse. Why doesn’t either one of these theories help me sleep better at night?”

“Because either way, the man is deadly.” Quincy turned toward Kaplan. “I assume you sent out the ad to the Quantico Sentry to be analyzed?”

“Tried,” Kaplan said. “Not much to work with. Stamp and envelope are both self-adhesive, so no saliva. Latent found no prints on the paper, and the ad was typeset, so no handwriting.”

“What about form of payment?”

“Cash. You’re not supposed to send it through the mail, but apparently our killer is a trusting soul.”