Denise walked to the wardrobe and opened it. Tom stood where the killer had stood and looked out of the window. The city was just waking up.
‘She’s got a lot of clothes,’ Denise called. The walk-in wardrobe was expansive, with racks of outfits and shoes.
‘Yeah,’ Tom confirmed. ‘She was a big shopper.’
Denise came back. ‘What does it mean?’
‘Maybe he likes well-dressed women. Maybe he likes clothes. Maybe all rich women shop a lot.’
Denise looked around. ‘Maybe he finds these women at the upmarket stores.’
Tom looked up. ‘That might go somewhere. If we want to find this killer, we’ve got to find out where he stalks them. What’s the link? We’re guessing he’s after rich blondes. So he finds one. He follows her. He seems intrigued. We found Amy Lloyd-Gardner’s SUV; the new clothes she’d just bought from Madison Avenue were missing.’
‘Take a look at Elizabeth’s shoe collection,’ said Denise.
Tom walked to the wardrobe. It was neat and organized, in colours and styles. The shoes had their own little shelves and there were upwards of a hundred pairs. Tom looked at the shoes. There were spaces on the shelves where two pairs were missing. One, no doubt, was the pair she died in, but the other pair? Had he taken them?
‘Denise, take a look here. Why would she be missing two pairs of shoes? One pair she was wearing, but the others, how does that work?’
Denise stared into the wardrobe for a moment. ‘He fetishizes objects, maybe shoes too. Maybe he took them. They all take little reminders, don’t they?’
‘Yeah, but a second pair of shoes is strange. We ought to go back to the other murders and see if any clothes were missing. We wouldn’t have spotted this if she wasn’t so organized.’
Tom looked again and noticed a bright chiffon scarf hanging with several others. He called Denise over and pulled it off the hanger. It was crimson with a gold design. Very distinctive.
‘What do you make of this, Denise?’
‘Silk scarf. What of it?’
‘Elizabeth Seale had a scarf wrapped round her head. Just like this. I’ll have to check it, but I’d say it was identical. This is a pretty distinctive design.’
‘So what are you saying, Tom?’
‘Elizabeth had this scarf around her head. Exact same design.’
Denise just stared. ‘She had two scarves. She’s a woman, she’s got a hundred pairs of shoes.’
‘How many pairs of shoes the same?’
Denise took a few seconds to look. ‘None.’
‘Expensive scarves. You don’t buy two of them, do you?’
‘Maybe one was a gift.’
‘Maybe,’ said Tom.
Denise clicked. ‘Or maybe, he doesn’t just follow the women. Maybe he’s doing more than just following.’
‘That’s right. We’ve got evidence from every victim now that showed he was either stalking or interacting, but this is different.’
‘Okay,’ said Denise. ‘Let’s say he’s scoping his target, getting closer, but he’s not quite ready to go the next step and talk to her or touch her, so what does he do? He breaks in like he did with Mary-Jane or he starts to buy the same things that they buy. You know, mimicking them and taking the same item home. It could have a kind of totem value to him.’
‘Psychologically, is that possible? That buying the same thing could give him a buzz?’
‘Yeah. I think so. Imagine it, he’s watched her for a few days. He follows her into a store, sees her buy something, then he goes up and buys the same thing. He’s walking right behind her with the same item that she has. It’s a kind of weird way of connecting.’
‘Very weird,’ said Tom.
‘You’re not getting it, are you? Listen, he bought the scarf, Tom. He bought the scarf, brought it to her apartment and strangled her with it.’ She trailed off.
Harper let the idea travel once round his mind, then he nodded. ‘Yes, I get it. I think you’re right. I think he did buy it. That means we’ve got a potential point of contact. We need to find out where she bought this. But why does he do it? What’s he after, Denise?’
‘Intimacy,’ said Denise and held Tom’s stare. They both suddenly got it.
‘We’ve got to hunt the stalker, not the killer,’ said Tom ‘And now we know where he’s been stalking. The killer is very careful. But maybe the stalker isn’t.’
Chapter Forty
Dr Fox’s Office
November 22, 11.00 a.m.
Nick looked up at the cream ceiling of Dr Fox’s office and closed his eyes. He’d been sitting opposite his psychoanalyst for just under an hour and was feeling no better. He’d spilled his sick nightmares all over Marty’s lap but that just left him feeling confused and angry. He looked across at Marty with wide eyes.
Marty was drumming on his desk. Nick hadn’t answered his question so he repeated it. ‘How often do you dream about hurting people, Nick?’
Nick had felt bad for so long, he’d forgotten what feeling normal was like. He didn’t enjoy the dreams, no question about it. He wasn’t himself. The thing was to keep tight. When the feelings came on him, he had to concentrate real hard, but he was scared. He looked up at Marty. ‘The thing is, Doctor, I think maybe there’s a devil in us all, wanting to get out there and destroy, you know. My wife, Dee, she says I’m possessed sometimes. ’ Nick turned his eyes to the psychologist. They were rimmed with red. He had a real strange look to him sometimes. ‘It doesn’t feel like I’ve got a lot of control left. I used to be able to stop it, you know, hold it off.’
‘Hold what off, Nick?’
‘The pain in my head. I used to be able to run clear through it. Now it just continues until I just… I can’t stop it any more.’
‘Then what happens?’
‘I told you. I can’t remember what happens next. I black out. I wake up and I don’t know what I’ve been doing. I don’t know where I am. Sometimes, I’m wet all over. My clothes, you know, are dripping wet like I’ve been standing in a shower. What am I?’
‘I don’t know, Nick, you’ve got to tell me.’
‘I sometimes find things in my car.’
‘What kind of things?’
Nick turned away from Marty. ‘Can I tell you?’
‘Sure you can tell me.’
‘I won’t get into trouble?’
‘I can’t tell anyone anything, Nick. Not a thing.’
‘Sometimes I find things I must’ve stolen.’
‘Like what?’
‘Jewellery, clothes, shoes. Money sometimes.’
‘Where do they come from?’
‘I’m some sick bastard, aren’t I? Ever since I lost my job, I’ve been blacking out and stealing things. Haven’t I, Doctor?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘Well, where in the hell do these things come from?’
Nick’s right hand slipped into his trouser pocket and pulled out a necklace. He held it up. A small silver crucifix
