The Impaler

lifestyle, and certainly nothing that connected him to the other three victims—that is, until I began to look for a connection somewhere else. First slide, please.”

Schaap clicked the remote, and the screen wiped into a pair of JPEG scans.

“Here we have both a map of downtown Raleigh and the Peugeot logo from Donovan’s car: a silver standing lion. Agent Schaap and I discovered that the route Donovan took to his office would have brought him very close not only to Angel’s but also to any number of intersections the killer might have taken to get to West Hargett Street. Thus, in light of the connections to the constellation Leo and the evidence we are about to show you, it’s our opinion that the Impaler first zeroed in on Randall Donovan because of the unusual car he drove: a Peugeot 307 with a lion logo on its hood.”

A gasp from somewhere in the Charlotte Office, and a hand went up at the Resident Agency. It was Big Joe the Sox Fan Connelly.

“Question here from the RA,” Markham said. “Clear slide and go ahead, Joe.”

“I’m not sure I understand. Are you saying that the connection between the victims has to do with a purely visual, almost superficial connection between them and the constellation Leo?”

“Not necessarily the constellation itself, but what it represents: a lion. Thus, the Impaler selected each of his victims because they bore a common visual—a mark of the lion, so to speak, that says to the killer, ‘This is the one.’”

“Then the Impaler chose Donovan at random, simply because he had the mark of the lion on the hood of his car?”

“Yes and no,” Markham replied. “To a certain degree, the lawyer was in the wrong place at the wrong time; meaning, he crossed paths with the Impaler when he was out looking for his next victim on West Hargett Street. But the fact that Donovan had a lion on his car is only part of the equation. We must remember that the Impaler needs confirmation from an outside entity to go ahead with his killing. This kind of delusional behavior is indicative not only of sacrificial types of killings but also of the type of killer who believes he’ll be rewarded somehow for doing as he is told.”

“But my kid wears a frigging Lion King T-shirt all the time,” Big Joe said. “Are you saying I should tell him to stop until we catch this guy?”

“I’m not saying that at all. The prevalence of lion imagery in our culture would make such an exclusive criterion impractical. And since we know that the Impaler is very patient and calculated, we can assume that the mark of the lion has to combine with another set of criteria—the first of which is the context of the presentation of the mark itself. The Impaler would not only have to identify the mark of the lion while he is hunting but its context must seem to him as out of the ordinary, perhaps almost supernatural. The serendipitous appearance of the lawyer in his rare Peugeot on West Hargett Street, as well as Jose Rodriguez’s Leona Bonita act in the drag theater, are only two examples of such contexts.”

“So the mark of the lion is some kind of visual omen?” Joe asked. “Like a black cat crossing your path or something?”

“That’s a good way of putting it, yes,” Markham said.

A hand went up in the Charlotte Office—Mr. Spock again.

“But what about the act of the impalement itself?” he asked. “I assume that you’ve explored the deeper psychological underpinnings; the impalements being a symbolic representation of male-on-male sodomy. And given the fact that perhaps three, if not all four, of the victims were gay males, are you willing to classify the killer as some kind of twisted gay basher? Perhaps a frustrated or latent homosexual who selects his victims from Raleigh’s gay population?”

“Again,” Markham said, “I can find no evidence that Randall Donovan was gay. Perhaps the Impaler began his search among the homosexual population, but then moved beyond that criterion. I think it’s too early to make a call on the Im-paler’s sexual orientation, especially when taken in the context of the sacrificial nature of the killings, as well as how our boy thinks he will be rewarded for all his hard work.”

“I understand that,” said Mr. Spock. “But if the connection between the victims lies in the mark of the lion and not in their sexual orientation, how does Billy Canning fit in? Of all the tattoos on his body, none of them were lions.”

“Point taken,” Markham said. “But again, the mark of the lion is only the first criterion in the Impaler’s selection pro- cess. With regard to Canning, there are many possibilities as to why the Impaler would’ve selected him in conjunction with the lion imagery. Perhaps Canning tattooed a lion on the Impaler’s body. I visited the tattoo parlor again last night. There’s a bulletin board filled with Polaroids there. Most were faceless close-ups of his work—a few lions, yes, but nothing that I could tie directly to the Impaler. The Polaroids have been collected into evidence, of course, and we’ll analyze them in conjunction with our working physical description—”

“You actually think the Impaler would’ve allowed Canning take a picture of him?” Mr. Spock asked.

“No, I don’t. Our boy is too careful, too meticulous to leave a calling card like that. If the Impaler did allow Canning to take his picture, I submit he abducted him at the tattoo parlor so he could snatch the Polaroid back. Who knows at this point? In my opinion, the most likely scenario is that the Impaler was inspired to kill Canning via a lion image he saw at the tattoo parlor itself. But the presentation of it would have to have been in a context that was out of the ordinary. Perhaps Canning suggested the lion tattoo. That would have been a good enough sign for the Impaler.”

“Most visionary killers are extremely narcissistic,” Under-hill said. “They consider themselves to be chosen ones, if you will, and sometimes believe themselves to be another person or supernatural figure altogether. The lion imagery is only part of the code our boy uses to communicate with whomever he thinks is commanding him to kill.”

“Yes,” said Markham. “And once he begins looking more closely at an individual, that person has to meet another criterion in order to be worthy of sacrifice. From the Impaler’s point of view, a homosexual would be a fine candidate, but not the only kind of candidate. No, the Impaler’s victims could come from almost any walk of life, as long as they are the kind of male the outside entity would desire.”

“That’s what we’re all so anxious to hear,” said Mr. Spock. “If this outside entity is not Vlad the Impaler, then who is he?”

Markham smiled.

“I’m getting to that,” he said—but stopped himself short of adding, You Vulcan prick.

Chapter 36

Cindy Smith awoke that morning at ten o’clock and went straight for her computer, turned it on, then decided to hop in the shower while the old relic booted up—fully aware, of course, that she was prolonging the anticipation.

More like self-torture, she thought as she scrubbed the last of the previous night’s makeup from her face. She felt foolish but at the same time alive with excitement—the hot water washing over her, the electric generator (still humming) now steaming and sizzling and sparking beneath her smooth, pink skin.

Plus, Cindy said to herself, if he hasn’t written yet, this will give him more time. My e-mail address is on the contact sheet for Macbeth. My phone number, too. Maybe he’ll call.

You’re really acting pathetic, a voice said in her head, but Cindy ignored it, toweled herself dry, and put on her bathrobe. And just to prove to the voice that she could still play it cool, she padded downstairs to the kitchen and grabbed a cereal bar and a glass of orange juice.

When she returned to her bedroom and finally signed into her e-mail, Cindy found four messages in her inbox—two general notifications from the university, which she immediately deleted; an opening-night congratulations from George Kiernan to the cast and crew; and an e-mail from her father titled simply, The show.

But there was nothing from Edmund Lambert.

Nothing at all.

Her stomach sinking, Cindy deleted her father’s e-mail without opening it. She already knew what it would