Cody McFadyen - Abandoned

“Of course,” I say.

When a female is abducted and never shows up again, the odds are that she’s been killed. This holds true in almost every case, from simple kidnapping to rape attacks.

“So, if their corpses turn up seven years or eight down the road, it’s a surprise, and it’ll get the gears of investigation turning, but it fits with the existing expectations. Showing up alive?” He raises his eyebrows. “That gets attention.”

“It fits,” I say, “but I think there’s something else here. Exposure may be a part of the reason he keeps them alive, but it just doesn’t feel like the whole. I’m not sure why.”

James nods. “I agree.”

I mark all this surmise down in abbreviated form, including the question mark that stands for the thing James and I both sense but can’t prove. These are things we feel, not things we know, but that’s the way of it.

“Why lobotomize them?” Callie asks.

I cock my head, considering. “Could be pragmatism, again,” I say, continuing James’s theory of our perpetrator’s mind-set. I’m still reluctant, but I can’t deny that it’s making more and more sense. “A lobotomized victim can’t be a witness.”

Alan frowns. “But how does that guarantee the husbands get punished for not paying? They can’t talk about their abductor, but that means they can’t point the finger at their spouses either. Doesn’t seem to fit with the whole more-doors-left-open idea.”

“We need more data on the prior victims he’s left for discovery,” Callie says, making a note. “My guess would be that he arranged the husbands’ downfall in some fashion. It’s not the kind of thing he’d leave to chance.”

“What about Heather?” I ask. “I realize I’m the one who put up the idea, but if the whole point of the lobotomies is to leave no witnesses, why’d he let her walk whole? Conversely, why do it to Dana? Up to this point, so far as we know, he hasn’t engaged in any collateral damage.”

“‘So far as we know’ is a key phrase there,” Alan points out. “Also, maybe Dana wasn’t collateral damage. Maybe she was in on it.” I think about that and nod. “Possible.”

“He might just think he has nothing to fear,” Alan continues. “Look, he had Heather for eight years, and what does she remember about him? Nothing. That might change if she ever gets back into her right mind, but I doubt it.”

“Doubt isn’t certainty, though,” James observes, “and that doesn’t fit with the profile we hypothesized. That kind of pragmatism wouldn’t allow for any risk of discovery at all.”

“Perhaps it does,” Callie demurs. “Pragmatism and logic should allow for an evolving paradigm.”

James frowns. “So?”

“Assuming the motive is financial, our boy would be constantly examining his existing paradigm, with particular attention to risk and reward.”

“Again, I ask: so?”

“So, sweet James, letting someone rip you off is a high-risk, zero return endeavor. It breeds future rebellion and thus lowers income. He’s apparently dealt with this kind of defiance before, yet here it is again, in the form of Douglas Hollister. He could have taken stock and decided a different approach was needed.”

“Such as?”

“Heather is free. Whatever state she’s in, she’s no longer imprisoned. Douglas, in the meantime, is heading for jail. Think about that. These men are driven by their hatred of these women. What better punishment than to change places with them?” She looks at the whiteboard. “How much would you like to bet that current customers got an email, or a phone call, or a text message, telling them what’s happening to Douglas Hollister and to keep an eye on the news for confirmation? The risk is increased, certainly, but so is the reward.”

“It’s an interesting theory,” James says, his voice grudging.

“Brilliant is a better word, honey-love. Go ahead, say it: brilliant.”

“We haven’t talked about the biggest anomaly,” he says, ignoring her.

I raise an eyebrow. “Which is?”

“Why confirm his existence by sending a text message, leaving a note with Heather, and dropping off a card at your home? If he just wanted to harm Douglas, why reveal himself at all?”

It is an excellent question. Possibly the best question.

“Maybe we’ll get a better idea from finding out more about the prior victims,” I say. “Callie, I want you to take that. Call up the departments involved and see if you can get them to send us the case files.”

“It’ll be my pleasure.”

“The quickest way to a disorganized offender is through what drives him,” James says. “Victimology. The quickest path to this kind of offender is going to be method.”

“Good,” I agree. “So let’s examine the requisites for our boy.” I walk over to the whiteboard and find a clean section. METHOD/REQUIRED , I write. “Let’s stick with the financial motivation and look at the most basic factors. What does he need to do what he does? What’s the foundation?”

“A client,” James says.

“Good.” I write CLIENT on the whiteboard under METHOD/REQUIRED. “How does he find a client?”

Alan scratches his head. “He found Douglas Hollister in a chat room for dissatisfied men. He finds them on the Internet?”

“That’s the most logical route these days,” I say, writing it down. “The Internet’s a big place. How does he decide where to start?”

“All kinds of ways,” a voice says, interrupting us.

I glance over and grin when I see Leo Carnes. “Hey, Leo!” I walk over to him and give him a hug. It’s not big-boss professional, but Leo is a friend. He’s also one of the best computer-crimes agents we have.

“Got rid of the earring, I see,” Callie teases.

He gives his left earlobe a self-conscious tug. “They’re not really very cool anymore, unless you’re Tommy Lee or someone like that.”

“Suits you,” Alan says. “Welcome back.”

Leo helped on the case of Annie, Bonnie’s mother. He looked younger then than he does now. He’s only twenty-seven or twenty-eight, but he’s already getting that certain wariness. I showed him his first murders, helped him sidle up close with real evil. It changed him. Other things are different too. He’s wearing a tie now, and his dark hair is cut much shorter.

Leo’s gone FBI on me, I think, and I’m both amused and saddened.

“Anyway,” he says, embarrassed by the attention, “you wanted to know how he’d go about finding clients on the Internet. It’s not that hard if you’ve got time and patience.”

“He’s got that in spades,” Alan says.

“If I do a search on, let’s say …” He sits down at a workstation. His fingers fly over the keyboard, as comfortable with it as my hand used to be with a cigarette. He starts an Internet connection and opens a browser. “Let’s do a search on antifeminism forum.” He types it as soon as he says it, and the page loads. “See? Eighteen thousand four hundred possibles. Let’s scroll through these…. Here’s one: fightmisandry.com .”

“Misandry?” I ask.

“Hatred of men,” James says. “Or boys.”

“What’s that got to do with feminism?” I ask. I recall Douglas Hollister’s rant from yesterday. “Ah … I understand. Feminists hate men, right?”

“That’s an oversimplification,” James says. “The idea behind a site like fightmisandry.com is going to be based on the concept that feminism has ceased being about equal choice and has instead become a forum for being broadly ‘antiman.’”

“And you know about this how, my dear homosexual?” Callie asks.

James only recently came out to us, and if this were anyone other than Callie and James, I’d be terrified at the sexual-harassment suit possibilities. But Callie would never say it if she actually thought it would hurt James’s feelings.