Tess Gerritsen - Die Again

“Anytime.” He started down the path, then turned and called: “If you ever want a private after-hours tour, let me know!”

She watched him hurry away around the bend, and suddenly she was alone, shivering in the wind.

No, not entirely alone. Through the bars of the empty leopard’s cage, she glimpsed blond hair, tawny as a lion’s mane, and broad shoulders clad in a brown fleece jacket. It was the zoo’s veterinarian, Dr. Oberlin. For a moment they eyed each other like two wary creatures who have unexpectedly come face-to-face in the bush. Then he gave a brusque nod, a wave, and vanished back into the camouflaging shrubbery.

As invisible as a cougar, she thought. I never even knew he was there.

“IF INDEED THESE VARIOUS ATTACKS IN DIFFERENT STATES ARE LINKED, then we’re dealing with a set of highly complex ritual behaviors,” said Dr. Lawrence Zucker. A criminal psychologist who served as consultant to Boston PD, Zucker’s pale, hulking figure was a familiar sight in the homicide unit. From his seat at the head of the table, he eyed Maura and the four detectives who’d gathered in the conference room that morning. There was something disturbingly reptilian about Zucker, and as his gaze swept past Maura, it felt like the cold flick of a lizard’s tongue on her face.

“Before we get ahead of ourselves,” said Detective Crowe, “we haven’t yet established that these attacks are linked. Dr. Isles came up with that theory, not us.”

“And we’re still digging into it,” said Jane. “Frost and I drove up to Maine yesterday to look into the case that happened five years ago. A victim named Brandon Tyrone, who was found gutted and hanging from a tree.”

“And what do you think?” asked Zucker.

“I can’t say the picture’s any clearer. Maine State Police are focused on only one suspect, a man named Nick Thibodeau. He and the victim knew each other. They may have had a falling-out, which triggered the killing.”

Crowe said, “I called Montana and Nevada, spoke to detectives about their cases. They believe cougar attacks could explain both incidents. I don’t see how the out-of-state cases connect to ours, or to the homicide in Maine.”

“It’s the symbolism that connects them all,” said Maura, unable to hold her silence. Neither a cop nor a psychologist, she was once again the intruder at this meeting, and had come at the invitation of Dr. Zucker. As they all turned to look at her, she felt the wall of skepticism looming in her way. A wall she’d have to batter down. Crowe had all force fields up. Both Frost and Jane were trying to look open-minded, but she’d heard the lack of enthusiasm in Jane’s voice. As for Johnny Tam, he remained as opaque as ever, keeping his opinions to himself.

“After I spoke to Dr. Rhodes about leopard biology, I realized that was the common thread. The way a leopard hunts, the way it feeds, the way it elevates its kill. We see it in all these victims.”

“So who are we looking for?” Crowe sniggered. “Leopard Man?”

“You make light of it, Detective Crowe,” said Zucker. “But don’t dismiss Dr. Isles’s theory out of hand. When she called me about this yesterday, I was doubtful, too. Then I reviewed those out-of-state homicides.”

“Nevada and Montana weren’t necessarily homicides,” Crowe pointed out. “Again, the ME’s say those could have been cougar attacks.”

“Dr. Rhodes said cougars don’t normally drag their kills into trees,” said Maura. “And what happened to the other members of both parties? There were four backpackers in the Nevada group. Only one was found. There were three hunters in Montana, and the remains of only two were found. Cougars couldn’t have wiped them all out.”

“Maybe a family of cougars.”

“It wasn’t a cougar at all,” said Maura.

“You know, Dr. Isles, I’m having a little trouble keeping up with all your changing theories.” Crowe looked around the table. “First, we hear this killer hates hunters and that’s why he hangs and guts them. Now it’s, what? Some crazy guy who thinks he’s a leopard?”

“He’s not necessarily insane.”

“Hey, if I went around pretending I was a leopard,” said Crowe, “you’d call the guys in white coats to have me shut away.”

Jane muttered: “Please, could we arrange that now?”

Dr. Zucker said, “You need to hear what Dr. Isles has to say.” He looked at Maura. “Why don’t you describe for us, once again, the condition of Mr. Gott’s body.”

“We’ve all read the autopsy report,” said Crowe.

“Nevertheless, let her describe his wounds again.”

Maura nodded. “There was a depressed fracture of the right parietal bone, compatible with a blow from a blunt object. There were also multiple parallel lacerations of the thorax, probably inflicted postmortem. There were crush injuries of the thyroid cartilage, which most likely resulted in asphyxiation. A single incision extended from the sternum’s xiphoid process all the way to the pubis, and viscera of both the thoracic and abdominal cavities were removed.” She paused. “Would you like me to continue?”

“No, I’d say that paints a sufficient picture. Now let me read you all a doctor’s description. It’s from another crime scene.” Zucker slipped on his glasses. “ ‘The victim is a woman, about eighteen years of age, found dead in her hut at daybreak. Her throat was crushed and her face and neck were torn open by what seem to be multiple claw marks, the flesh so horribly mutilated that it appears partially devoured. The intestines and liver are missing, but here I note the peculiar detail of how cleanly one end of the intestine was incised. Upon further examination, I note that the abdomen has been sliced open with a peculiarly straight and clean incision—a wound that no wild creature I am familiar with could inflict. Thus, despite my initial impression that this poor soul was a victim of leopard or lion attack, I must conclude that the perpetrator, without a doubt, was human.’ ” He set down the page he’d been reading. “Surely you all agree the report bears an uncanny resemblance to what Dr. Isles just described?”

“Which case was that?” asked Frost.

“It was written by a German missionary doctor working in Sierra Leone.” Zucker paused. “In the year 1948.”

The room went dead silent. Maura looked around the table and saw astonishment in Frost’s and Tam’s faces, skepticism in Crowe’s. And what’s Jane thinking? That I’ve finally gone over the edge and I’m chasing phantoms?

“Let me get this straight,” said Crowe. “You think we’re dealing with a killer who was doing this in 1948 ? Which would make him, what? About eighty-five years old?”

“That’s not at all what we’re suggesting,” said Maura.

“Then what is your new theory, Dr. Isles?”

“The point is, there’s historical precedent to these ritual murders. What’s happening today—the parallel slash marks, the evisceration—it’s an echo of what’s been happening for centuries.”

“Are we talking about a cult? Ghosts? Or are we back to Leopard Man?”

“For God’s sake, let her talk, Crowe,” Jane looked at Maura. “I just hope you’ve got more than supernatural woo-woo.”

Maura said, “This is very real. But first it requires a little history lesson, going back almost a century.” She turned to Zucker. “Do you want to give them the background?”

“I’m happy to. Because the history is fascinating,” said Zucker. “Around the time of World War One, in West Africa, there were numerous reports of mysterious deaths. The victims were men, women, and children. They were found with what appeared to be claw marks on their bodies, their throats slashed, their bellies eviscerated. Some of them had been partially consumed. These were all hallmarks of big-cat attacks, and one witness saw what he thought was a leopard fleeing into the bush. Some monstrous cat was thought to be on the prowl, invading villages, attacking people as they slept.