case?”
“He said he was going to touch base with you about it. Paul Bledsoe.”
“Bledsoe? He didn’t say anything—” But she immediately realized her mind hadn’t been tuned to matters other than Robby’s case. “I’ll get with him right now.” She turned and headed for the door.
“One other thing.”
Vail stopped and turned.
“Your appointment with Dr. Rudnick. I expect you to keep it.”
Vail twisted her mouth. “As if I don’t have more important things to deal—”
“Look,” he said, rising from his chair. “Your mental health is the responsibility of your unit chief and he and I have been concerned about all you’ve been through the past couple months. Dead Eyes, then the shooting at the White House, all that shit that happened to you in Napa—”
“No need for the recap. I know what my life’s been like. I’ve lived it.”
“Fine. Then look at this objectively. You may not be able to admit it to my face, but you know I’m right. Keep that appointment. That’s an order.”
“Yes sir,” Vail said with a mock salute. She pulled open the door and left.
39
Vail called Bledsoe on the way back to her office and arranged to meet at the crime scene, John F. Kennedy Stadium, in thirty minutes.
Vail parked in the player’s lot and badged the security guard, who told her he was expecting her. She was to meet Detective Bledsoe in the fitness facility, adjacent to the clubhouse.
The hallways were freshly painted and new industrial carpet had been laid recently, judging by the chemical smells that teased her nose. Vail pulled open the heavy metal door and stepped inside. An array of physical fitness equipment stared back at her, rivaling only the volume and selection of that found at Seattle’s University of Washington facility, which she had visited once on a case. The FBI Academy’s conditioning machines were impressive, but this was like an ocean compared to a lake.
“Karen. Over here.” Bledsoe’s deep voice from somewhere off in the distance was swallowed by the large room. The rows of equipment, combined with the floor-to-ceiling mirrors and awkward acoustics, made locating him a challenge.
“You didn’t tell me we had a case together,” she said.
“I started to last night, in the car. You weren’t in the mood, so I left it alone.”
“I’m still not in the mood. And I don’t have a lot of time.” She nodded at the bloodstained carpet, where white tape delineated the position and location of the corpse. “What’s the deal here?”
“Rayshawn Shines, offensive lineman for the D.C. Generals of the Pro Football League. One of their stars. Found right there, garroted. Stabbed multiple times postmortem. No defensive wounds.”
Vail stood over the bloody stain, as if looking at it would help her visualize the body as it lay the moment it had been found. It didn’t.
“So why am I here? It’s a homicide.”
“His penis and balls were cut off.”
“Six-five, three hundred. They don’t screen for drugs in this new league like they do in the NFL. Steroid and PED use is rampant. League’s built on the concept of a narrower field, stronger armed quarterbacks, faster wide receivers. No huddles and more touchdowns.”
“That glazed look in my eyes is boredom. But don’t take it personally.”
Ignoring Vail’s remark, Bledsoe handed her a manila envelope. “Crime scene photos. Look ’em over in your spare time.”
“What spare time?”
“Hear me out. The PFL had to give fans something more exciting, right? To compete. The average NFL game runs from ten to thirteen minutes of actual playing time. The other three hours is the clock running during huddles, commercials, replays, and time-outs. The PFL got it right—fewer time-outs. Twenty-nine to thirty-three minutes of action. Their games are very exciting, like a constant rush. But when you’re up against a powerhouse like the NFL, you need a bigger gimmick. If a league wanted to grab attention, get a ratings bump, this might be a way to do it. Star player gets offed, that’s big news.”
Vail contorted her face. “Kind of a negative way to do it, don’t you think? Bad publicity.”
“I thought there’s no such thing as bad publicity.”
Vail considered the severed gonads and what bloggers would say if that fact were made public. “Your buff star player getting emasculated is good publicity?”
Bledsoe snorted. “Good point.” Bledsoe picked at a spot on his forehead. “So what do you make of that sexual component?”
“That sexual component, yes.” Vail sat down on a padded weight bench and thought for a moment. “First impression is that when we see male-on-male sexual homicide, we’re looking at a homosexual offender. Or, it could be someone who’s confused about his sexual identity, or someone who was sexually abused or exploited by a male figure as a child.”
“That it?”
“If you’re asking me to profile the offender, you know I can’t do it yet—not accurately. There’s only one vic.”
“But there are behaviors here,” Bledsoe said, craning his neck around.
Vail sighed. She wasn’t in the right frame of mind to do this. She wanted to be putting the pieces of Robby’s puzzle together, seeing if she’d missed something. She pulled herself up, took a deep breath, and cleared her thoughts. Tried to. She couldn’t. “Look, I’ve got an appointment I have to get to. I really didn’t want this case. Each minute that ticks by . . . ”
“I know. But anything you can give me would help.”
Vail checked her watch. “I think he’ll kill again. This may not be his first kill. No defensive wounds on a big guy like Rayshawn Shines? Your UNSUB knows what he’s doing. You can’t do this and hesitate or you’ll end up dead yourself. So he exhibited very high levels of confidence. He probably looks at this kill as an accomplishment. He did
Bledsoe absorbed all this, then said again, “That it?”
“Until this guy kills again, there’s probably not much else I can help you with.” She held up an index finger. “Not true. If I can clear my head long enough to concentrate on this, I’ll be able to give you more. Meantime, if you put together a list of suspects, I’ll help narrow it down. And I can help map out an effective interview approach.”
Bledsoe looked down at the blood-soaked carpet. “Okay.”
“I know you don’t want to hear this, but the more vics he leaves in his wake, the easier our job will be catching him.”
“Yeah—not very comforting.”
“It is what it is.” Vail held up the manila envelope. “Here you go.”
Bledsoe waved a meaty hand. “Those are yours.”
“Oh, goodie. I’ll put them in my photo album as soon as I get home. You know, the fancy leather one on my coffee table.”
“Now there’s the Karen Vail I know and love.”
“The Karen Vail you know and love is officially on leave.”
“DeSantos will come through,” Bledsoe said. “I just got a feeling.”
Vail twisted her arm and stole another look at her watch. “Gotta run. Doctor’s appointment.”
“Everything okay?”
“Bumps and bruises, but nothing that won’t heal. This is for my mind. Mandatory.”
“The shrink has to see a shrink. Ain’t that a kick.”
