Mike Omer - In the Darkness

“Okay.” Jensen clapped his hands again. “So maybe—”

“Lyons has been going through the red light cam footage,” Foster continued. “Three vehicles followed the car Nicole rode in. Two of them belonged to teenagers returning from the same party. The third was a truck driven by a forty-seven-year-old man named Wyatt Tiller. We’re looking into it, though I doubt he’s our man.”

Foster flipped a page in his notebook. “Some of Nicole Medina’s friends had erected a small memorial shrine on her street. It looks harmless—there’s nothing there that the press might have a field day with.”

“Can you monitor visitors to the shrine?” Tatum asked. “The killer might visit it.”

Foster considered it. “We can’t have a man stationed there, but I see no problem with installing a small surveillance camera.”

“What about the crime scene?” Zoe asked Foster. “Did you scan it with UV light?”

Tatum was mildly irritated, realizing she’d followed up on something that he wasn’t privy to.

“The crime scene techs found no indication of any foreign fluids that show up under UV light.” Foster paused for a second, letting it sink in, then continued. “Regarding the box, we consulted with an expert carpenter, and he said that he estimates the box was made by a professional. If our killer isn’t a carpenter, he must have ordered it from somewhere. We want to follow that trail, but we frankly need more manpower.”

“Well,” Jensen said.

Tatum sighed. And here begins the manpower mating dance.

They argued for a bit. Eventually, a compromise was reached. Tatum wasn’t sure what the bottom line was, but both Foster and Jensen seemed disgruntled and unhappy.

Then it was Agent Shelton’s turn to speak, and he briskly outlined their efforts at tracking the killer via the online video he’d posted. It didn’t sound promising. The hosting service had been paid for in Bitcoin; the domain was free and registered under a temporary email account.

“The unsub used a second burner phone as a hotspot to post the video, and that phone was switched on and off at the site,” Shelton added, using the short term for unknown subject . “We’re monitoring both phone numbers in case one of them is switched on again.”

He glanced at his laptop, which was open in front of him. “Lab results indicate all DNA samples retrieved from the box belonged to the victim.”

Jensen turned wearily to Tatum. “What about you? Any progress with the killer’s profile?”

“We’re searching for similar crime patterns,” Tatum said. “So far, we found nothing. Dr. Bentley also pointed out we should probably look into Schrodinger and understand his theory—it might shed some light on the murderer.”

“That’s a good idea.” Jensen beamed in a manner that made Tatum feel instantly suspicious.

“Well . . . yeah. I’ll look into that today.”

“I am friends with San Angelo’s number one physics doctor at Angelo State University,” Jensen said. “We know each other from college. I can set up a meeting.”

“I have a bit to add,” Zoe interrupted.

“Oh?” Jensen turned to her. “What did you find, Agent, uh, Dr. Bentley?”

“I composed a basic profile from what we know about the killer,” she answered. “Nothing definite, of course, but I think I managed to pinpoint a few likely characteristics.”

Jensen pursed his lips skeptically, but the two detectives focused on Zoe with interest.

“The killer is uncommonly careful, leaving no trace behind him, which leads me to believe he’s at least thirty, probably even a bit older. Younger killers are usually more impulsive in their actions. However, he’s in good shape: those bins on the video were heavy; that grave was hard to dig. He didn’t seem in any discomfort during the video, despite the hard work. That makes me think he’s no older than forty-five.”

“I have an uncle who runs marathons, and he’s sixty,” Jensen said.

Tatum cleared his throat. “That’s why Dr. Bentley said these are likely characteristics. We’re not telling you to ignore anyone who’s twenty. But we recommend that you prioritize your investigation according to our recommendations.” For a second his eyes locked with Zoe’s.

She gave a short curt nod. “The unsub was careful to avoid showing his skin in the video, wearing long gloves, high boots, a long-sleeved shirt. All this was probably done to avoid giving us any hint regarding his race. But the video was streamed live, and he must have assumed he might accidentally show a bit of skin during his hard work. This leads me to believe he wasn’t too worried about it, didn’t think that it would narrow down the search by much. Since San Angelo’s demographic is mostly white, I assume it means he’s white.”

Foster scribbled in his notebook furiously.

“From the cleanliness of the crime scene and the quite elaborate murder, we can tell he has an obsessive personality, paying meticulous, often excessive, attention to details. If he has a job, it would be one where speed is not very important, but thoroughness is. That would probably mean he’s not in customer service jobs or menial jobs. He’s highly intelligent and is prone to show it off. This is almost certainly due to an inherent low self-esteem, which makes me think he was either belittled by his parents or bullied as a child. He probably endured some sort of abuse as a child.”

The door opened, and Lyons entered the room wearing a haunted expression. Without saying a word, she sat down at the end of the table.

Zoe continued. “He has a van, and it would be the most common van around these parts.” She shrugged. “I don’t know about cars.”

Jensen blinked. “That’s very . . . detailed, Agent, uh, Doctor.”

She didn’t seem to hear him or care for his feedback. “He had a stressful event in his life a few months ago, which made him feel unappreciated and angry. It is likely job related; maybe he was fired, or something made him feel undervalued, demoted. We call this trigger a stressor.”

“The stressor could also be a relationship ending,” Tatum pointed out. “It’s not necessarily job related.”

“That’s true,” Zoe admitted. “But I feel like the video was a performance compensating for what he felt. He posted it online for everyone to see—he wants affirmation from the public. The name he gave himself—Schrodinger—as well as presenting the video as an experiment feels like an attempt to appear skilled and clever. Someone who deserved the appreciation of his superiors and peers.”

Tatum wasn’t sure he agreed with her assessment but decided to leave it.

“Also, I think it’s likely Nicole Medina wasn’t his first victim. The crime scene doesn’t match the impulsive act of someone who killed for the first time. It looks like it was coldly planned by someone who killed before. Six weeks ago, a twenty-two-year-old woman named Maribel Howe was reported missing. The case file is still open. Detective Lyons and I talked to the mother yesterday, and I think it’s possible Maribel is another victim.”

Jensen glanced at Lyons. “Oh?”

Lyons cleared her throat. “I have news about that,” she said, her voice haggard. “I just talked to the mother. She told me she got a phone call from Maribel. I couldn’t get the exact details from her, but she sounded hysterical. I asked dispatch to send a patrol unit there to talk to her, and I’ll go there myself to take her statement.”

“Right.” Jensen clapped his hands. “Meanwhile, Bentley and Gray will join me to hear what my physicist friend thinks.”

Tatum was suddenly sorry for suggesting they learn more about Schrodinger. For one, he wanted to know more about Maribel Howe. And being with Jensen felt like having an unpleasant rash.