Jonathan Santlofer - Anatomy of Fear

She stood over the Eleggua and recited the prayer she had memorized in English.

“Divine Messenger, do not confuse me. Divine Messenger, do not confuse me. Let someone else be confused. Turn my suffering around. Give me the blessing of the calabash . Owner of all four corners, head of the paths, my Father, remove evil so Nato can walk without death.”

Then she made her way from shrine to shrine, offering cornmeal to Chango, sunflower seeds to Osain, toasted corn to Ochosi, and finally dripped almond oil over Inle. She sat on a pew and asked all of the Santerian gods to watch over her grandson and protect him from those who would harm him. Then she tied a scarf over her hair, wrapped a shawl around her shoulders, and headed over to Santa Cecilia to ask the same of Jesus.

The Cordero crime scene photos and drawing were pinned to the corkboard wall behind Monica Collins’s desk.

“We should be getting DNA results soon,” she said.

She and her men, Archer and Richardson, along with profiler Roberta Schteir, had just reviewed the bureau’s file on Nathan Rodriguez and watched the taped interview he’d done with Collins.

“He looks nervous, doesn’t he?” said Collins.

“You would be nervous too, Agent Collins,” said Schteir. “Everyone is nervous in that sort of situation. It’s a normal human response. Of course having a guilty conscience compounds it.”

“I say we search his place,” said Richardson. “Take away his crayons and pencils.”

“It’s a little more complicated than that,” said Collins, thinking of her conversation with Perry Denton. “If Rodriguez allows the search, that’s one thing, we would not have to get a warrant. But any search, if we come up empty, will be an embarrassment for both the NYPD and the bureau. This is a serious allegation. We can’t search a cop’s premises without hard evidence.”

“The timing is perfect,” said Richardson. “ME says the vic was killed between ten and midnight. Rodriguez was back from Boston by seven, home all night, and admits to being in Cordero’s apartment around eleven-thirty. Damn close.”

“Too close,” said Archer.

“It’s not enough,” said Collins.

“What if he runs?” asked Richardson.

“I don’t see that happening,” said Collins. “He doesn’t know we’re really looking at him.”

Richardson glanced back at the computer screen. The interview with Rodriguez was playing again. “He sure does look nervous.”

“Rodriguez is carrying a lot of pain,” said Schteir. “His father, a cop, shot and killed when he was a teenager. And if this latest wrinkle is true”-she tapped the report from Cold Case-“we might be looking at something much more serious.”

“It isn’t conclusive,” said Collins.

“I said might, Agent Collins. But there is certainly some ambiguity according to what these detectives have turned up.”

“How come the PD was already investigating this?” asked Richardson. “They have some suspicion about Rodriguez?”

“The Cold Case detectives said Detective Russo came to them to reopen the Juan Rodriguez shooting, but asked them to keep it quiet,” said Collins.

“Do we know why she did that?” asked Schteir.

“No,” said Collins. “But I’ll find out.”

Agent Archer was skimming the Cold Case report. “So they now have DNA that was not available twenty years ago.”

“Yes, and it’s being fed through the Department of Justice DNA data bank to see if they can find a match.”

“Is Rodriguez in the bank?”

“He hasn’t turned up, no.”

“So that will fall to us?” asked Archer.

Collins was thinking again about her conversation with Perry Denton and the surprise follow-up call, the invitation to dinner. “It’s better if the PD takes care of that in-house. Once they get all the data-bank updates, they will undoubtedly collect DNA from Rodriguez for comparison. That would be standard operating procedure. And once they get his DNA they will turn it over to us.” Denton had promised her that. “That way we get it without having to step on their toes or embarrass them.” Collins looked at her men, and managed a smile for Roberta Schteir. She suspected that anything she said would be reported and was careful in her choice of words. “There’s a solid team sorting through everything at Quantico. This case will not get away from us.”

“But it seems odd,” said Archer. “I mean, Rodriguez wanting to be on the PD case.”

“He was asked on by Russo,” said Collins.

“It’s not uncommon to find that a killer has been close to a case,” said Schteir. “How many times has an unsub been found in the crime scene photographs of bystanders to a crime?”

“Yeah,” said Archer, “but there’s still some distance there. This is up close and personal. I mean, committing a murder while you’re actually on the case?”

“Well, here’s one for you,” said Schteir. “Martin Smithson, Seattle PD, investigating officer in the deaths of six young women raped and murdered between 1998 and 2000. Smithson volunteered to head up the investigation and… he was the one who had killed them. Being literally on the case could be viewed as a brilliant move. Rodriguez would know everything the PD was doing and be one step ahead of them. Think about it. You’re a killer, a cool, manipulative, narcissistic personality who thinks you are not only above the law, but above society’s rules. How would it feel to push the envelope that much further, to commit a heinous act right under the nose of authority?” Schteir thought a moment. “I found Rodriguez to be an amiable, charming guy. But I don’t have to tell you that fits a whole category of sociopaths.”

“Bundy, for one,” said Collins.

Schteir nodded. “You ever read the transcripts of Albert DeSalvo, the Boston Strangler? In it, DeSalvo describes a family gathering where his sister says, ‘I’m taking judo lessons to protect myself,’ and DeSalvo says, ‘So you think you can handle the Strangler?’ and she says ‘Yes,’ so he gets her in a stranglehold and says, ‘Try and get out of this!’ and practically kills her while everyone is sitting around laughing-at least that’s the way DeSalvo describes it. You see what I’m saying?”

“Yes,” said Collins, happy to find some commonality with the Quantico profiler. “David Berkowitz would join in conversations with his fellow postal workers about the Son of Sam, about whether or not the guy was crazy, and say things like, ‘I hope they catch that son of a bitch!’”

“And he’d sing after each killing.”

“And DeSalvo would go home, have dinner, and play with his kids right after committing rape and murder.”

Archer looked from Collins to Schteir. He had a feeling the two women could go on like this for hours. “Okay, I get the point. But then Rodriguez screwed up, right? I mean, if we’re looking at him for this, he’s not so smart after all.”

“Could be that he’s gotten tired,” said Schteir. “Ready to get caught.” She scanned the bureau stats on Rodriguez. “He’s a loner, never married, and certainly has the talent to make the drawings. And there’s the father issue.”

“Okay,” said Archer, thinking it through. “But our unsub is targeting minorities. He’s a hate killer. And Rodriguez is Puerto Rican. Does that make any sense?”

“I’m sure you know that serial killers hunt in their own pack,” said Schteir.

“He’s the product of two minorities,” said Collins.

“And he probably took a lot of grief for that growing up,” Richardson added.

“We could be looking at self-hatred turned outward,” said Schteir. “Eradicating people like himself, symbolically wiping himself out, killing the part of himself he despises.”