Crush

Vail stood there, but didn’t move. “I already see stuff that’s worthwhile.” She sighed in resignation, then stepped forward. “Like you said earlier, nothing but fun from here on out.”

THREE

Vail crouched a few feet from the body, outside the penumbra of bloody soil, and shone the flashlight across the woman’s face, then worked her way over the chest, and on down to the leather shoes.

Robby stood twenty feet away, well beyond the visible field. “Feel her pulse.”

“Yeah, no need to. She’s done. Too much blood loss. No color left in the face.”

“Check it, just—just to be sure.”

Vail frowned, shifted her weight, and said, “I know death, Robby. I’m sure. Dead as the wood in those oak barrels back there.”

Vail continued surveying the body with the light. Miguel was correct—the woman’s breasts were severed, but then she never truly doubted that Miguel saw what he thought he saw. It’s kind of a hard thing to get wrong, even when stunned with fear.

“Sharp knife, probably a few inches in length.” She examined the slices, which were surprisingly clean. “No hesitation marks. Definitely not the first time this UNSUB has killed,” she said, using the law enforcement abbreviation for “Unknown Subject.”

“Any ritual behaviors?” Robby asked.

“Ritual” was a term used by profilers to describe unique activities a serial killer engages in with his victim’s body. Like a behavioral fingerprint, they were vital to understanding or identifying a particular killer.

Vail pointed at the victim’s chest. “For one, severing the breasts is a biggie.”

“Yeah,” Robby said. He cleared his throat in embarrassment. “I mean, aside from that.”

“Her pants and underwear are pulled down to her knees. If there was penetration of any sort, pulling down the pants wouldn’t be ritualistic, but if there wasn’t any sexual assault involved, then it would be. Follow me?”

“Yeah. If he pulled down her pants and . . . violated her, then there’s a reason for pulling the pants down. If he didn’t violate her, there’s no reason to pull down her pants. In which case it’s probably related to his messed up childhood.”

“Righto. But keep in mind that it’s hard to draw conclusions on only one finding. There could be staging involved, so it’s impossible to say for sure just yet.”

“Staging. To throw off the cops?”

Vail pulled a pen from her pocket and gently nudged away the woman’s collar. “If he’s killed before, he may try to create a different looking crime scene, or the appearance of a new motive, just to misdirect us. That’s why we have to consider the totality of the circumstances.”

“And what would those be?”

“Every behavior is analyzed and reconciled with the logic of the forensic evidence. You have to examine each aspect of the crime scene to see if the offender carried out each key attribute to its logical conclusion. Are they sequentially logical?”

“Because unless the offender is a cop or a CSI, he wouldn’t know all the details of crime scene reconstruction.”

“Exactly.” Vail shifted her weight to the right, leaned forward, and shone the light over the groin. “We’ll have to wait for the ME to tell us about penetration. Hard to tell.”

“The breasts?”

“Don’t see them.” She twisted and motioned to the forklift behind them. “See if there are keys in that thing, maybe you can shed some light on the situation.”

Robby turned and made his way out of the room to the forklift. He leaned in, and a second later the vehicle’s engine purred to life and the headlamp glowed brightly.

Vail rose from her crouch and stepped out of the beam’s way. She looked down at the body. Doesn’t look any better in the light.

A man wielding a powerful flashlight swallowed the mouth of the room. Robby spun, ducking from the beam’s painful brilliance, Vail’s Glock out in front of him.

“This is a crime scene,” Robby shouted. “Get back.”

The man, silhouetted by the handheld and the glare of the forklift’s headlamp, said, “Yeah, I got that. But I’m supposed to be here. You’re not. Now lower that fucking gun or we’re gonna have a big goddamn problem.”

“You are?” Vail asked, holding up a hand to shield her eyes.

“Detective Lieutenant Redmond Brix, Napa County Sheriff’s Department.”

Vail moved her head to the side, still fighting the glare. “Karen Vail, FBI. And that man with the Glock in your face is Detective Robby Hernandez, Vienna PD.”

“Vienna?” Brix asked. “Where the hell is Vienna?”

“Virginia,” Robby said, as he lowered his weapon.

Brix dropped his flashlight out of Vail’s line of sight. “Glad to meet you . . . Not really. Now, you mind getting outta my crime scene?”

Vail raised her hands in resignation, then backed away to Robby’s side.

Brix, his attention still on Robby, said, “Mind telling me, Detective, what you’re doing with a handgun in California?”

Robby handed the Glock to Vail.

“It’s my backup piece,” she said as she bent over to reholster it on her ankle.

Brix frowned. There was nothing more he could say.

“Crime scene’s yours, Lieutenant.” Vail rested her hands on her hips and watched as Brix stepped forward, following Vail’s path to the body. He lowered his Maglite and ran the beam over the victim. When the brightness hit the area of severed breasts, Brix rocked back involuntarily. He caught his balance and looked away a moment, then seemed to force his eyes back to the body.

“God damn,” Brix said. “Shit.” He turned away, then marched out, into the large storage room. Vail and Robby followed. “You okay?” Vail asked.

Brix seemed to collect himself, then lifted his head and faced her.

“I’m fine.” He extended a hand. “Thanks for securing the scene. Where are you staying? I’ll need to get a more complete statement.”

“Mountain Crest B&B.”

“I know the place.” He dug out his cell phone, flipped it open, and shone his flashlight in Vail’s face. He pressed a button, it made a camera shutter click, then he did the same to Robby. As he snapped his phone closed, he said, “I’ll be in touch. We’ll take it from here now. You know your way out?”

Vail felt her blood pressure rising. This was usually the point where she said or did something she later regretted. Robby either sensed the tension or he’d gotten to know her pretty well, because his large hand clamped down on her elbow. He pulled her close against his body, then gently turned her around.

“We’re fine, thanks,” Robby said.

It was all happening slowly, Robby’s voice somewhere in the background, as he led Vail through the tunnels. The next thing she knew, she was standing at the wine cave’s entrance, the cold fresh air of a Napa evening blowing in her face.

FOUR

After returning the flashlight to Miguel Ortiz, they got into their rental and rode in silence, at a considerably slower speed, along Highway 29. Although they were supposed to have been treated to an exceptional meal paired with exceptional wine, the winery offered them a refund or a rain check voucher and sent its guests home because of a “water main break deep in the cave.” Vail almost laughed aloud when they were told of the reason for the sudden cancellation, but stopped herself. It didn’t matter. After the discovery of the body, the excitement of the evening seemed to leave them like air escaping a leaky balloon.

Finally, with the sunset now only a distant memory from what seemed like a long-ago afternoon, Vail sighed deeply and said, “Where are we headed?”

“A restaurant my friend recommended. I don’t know if we can get in, but he said it’s worth the wait.”