O'Rourke demonstrated how she had arrived at Chicago. She had taken a radial scanner and had drawn circumferences of twenty, thirty, forty, fifty and one hundred miles from the kill sites, and all of them at the one- hundred-mile range intersected at or near Chicago.
It was late, however, and other than contact the bureau offices in Chicago, there was little else they could do tonight. Besides, everyone had plans to be at the wake for Marilyn Boutine. The meeting broke up with everyone having a job to do. Byrnes was to be a catcher-in-the-rye back at Wekosha, digging deeper into the life of one Candy Copeland, and to keep a watch on her haunts for anyone who might have known her. He would even go so far as to place a recording device on her headstone, he had said.
Schultz was to work with the newspapers in an attempt to stir the killer to some foolish action that might reveal more of his identity.
O'Rourke was to fly to Chicago to give the bureau there the details of the P.P. team's work, and to share the forensics information amassed against the killer.
Boutine and Jessica would remain in Quantico to coordinate any further “troop movements.” Everyone was feeling hopeful; everyone was sure that the noose was tightening, but everyone also feared the next telephone call from some law enforcement agency in need of FBI assistance on a Tort 9.
# # #
The phone call came while they were at the wake. People started disappearing early, Boutine telling them that he understood and would soon follow. Jessica stayed on with Boutine until he himself decided to put an abrupt and early end to the wake. There was too much at stake. News had come in from Zion, Illinois, of the discovery of a mutilation murder that fit the M.O. of their Tort 9 killer. Otto had put it out on every wire, and everyone in a law enforcement position in the nation, and particularly the Midwest, was watching, and while they'd had some sixty maybes, this one sounded like a certainty, down to the near spotless condition of a white to beige rug over which dangled the body from its heels from a chandelier cord. The chandelier had been torn down and cast into a heap in a corner. “I'll fly out tonight, Otto. No need for you to go,” she told him.
“ How're you going to get on without me?”
“ Our Chicago guy's have it. They'll be there.”
He looked back at the open casket, into the face of his dead wife, nodding. “Thanks, Jess, for being here for me. Can you arrange a flight and-”
' 'Leave it to me. You just see to what you must here, and I'll see you when I get back.”
She quickly made her way back to her place, packed and made the necessary calls. She'd be on a transport within the hour, military again. She had hoped to be able to avoid the uncomfortable military transport for the plusher Lears of the FBI, but these were all in use.
At the airfield she had another uncomfortable shock. Both Kaseem and Forsythe. They'd gotten the word on the Zion killing, and they had orders to proceed there themselves, and they had booked the same transport. She gnashed her teeth and managed a catlike grin when Kaseem extended his hand and said, “Looks as if we will be working together again.”
“ What is your interest in this case. Dr. Kaseem?”
Kaseem's eyes gave him away. He did hold some secret. The black orbs flashed for a millisecond, and Forsythe became uncomfortable and worked toward finding a seat.
“ There is something more to your interest in these vampire killings than you've told me, isn't there? Isn't there?”
“ It's a long story.”
“ We have a long flight ahead.”
He took a deep breath. “All right, we'll talk.”
During the flight, Kaseem painted a bizarre picture of a young medical technician in the marines who had a taste for blood. When caught at his peculiar addiction, the marine was removed from all medical areas, given other work to do. Stationed in West Germany in 1976, at the age of eighteen, still a private, a man named Davie Rosnich had successfully eluded military and civilian police after mur-dering a bunk mate in a bizarre fashion deep in a wooded area far from the base. Rosnich had convinced the other man that he was interested in him sexually, had convinced him to furlough the weekend with him and had then rendered him helpless, and finally took from the other man all of his blood.
“ To this day, Rosnich has eluded capture,” finished Captain Kaseem. “I… I was the man called in to examine the body. When I heard about your vampire killer in Wisconsin, I naturally became interested, and when I contacted my superiors, they contacted Leamy, and Leamy asked us in.”
“ Asked you in, I rather doubt.”
“ All right, so Leamy owed a favor. Nonetheless, we're here, and at least now you have a suspect.”
“ You should have told us about this suspect a long time ago.”
“ We did.”
“ Through whom?”
“ I am not at liberty to say.”
“ God damn you, Kaseem, you'd better get at liberty to say, or I'm calling your bloody superiors and Chief Leamy and anyone else I must! Now, who?”
Kaseem sputtered a name, saying, “Teres…”
“ Teres? Teresa? O'Rourke?”
“ Yes, Teresa O'Rourke.”
“ O'Rourke?” she repeated, dumbfounded for the moment.
“ She and I… we've been seeing each other for some time.”
She dropped her gaze, nodding. “Your search for Rosnich, has it zeroed in on Chicago as possibly his current stamping grounds?”
“ It has, yes.”
“ So O'Rourke is smarter than even she knows.”
Kaseem became indignant at this. “Look here, what is wrong with two law enforcement agencies working together?' '
“ Working together? Had you given us this information on Rosnich, we might have already done a blood check with military records on him, and a fingerprint check, and a-”
“ O'Rourke said she would see to all of that.”
“ She did?”
“ Yes, and it was my understanding that your forensics people have it.”
“ Christ, then why don't I know about it?”
“ I might assume you've not seen the forest for the trees.”
“ No, you may not. What I haven't seen has been kept from me. That you may be sure of.”
She stalked to the cockpit and demanded to use the comlink with the ground. She asked to be patched through to the forensics lab at Quantico, preferably John Thorpe. Thorpe was out. She was put through and recognized Dr. Zachary Raynack's voice on the other end asking how he might be of service.
“ You might begin by faxing every fucking thing you have on Davie Rosnich to Chicago and being damned certain, Doctor, that it is waiting for me there, you old sonofabitch!”
“ Now, just a minute, young woman-”
“ I am not your young woman, Doctor! I'm your boss, and if you can't live with that, if you think you can work around me, then you've got another think coming.”
“ I am carrying through only on what Chief Leamy had asked of me.”
“ Leamy, no. O'Rourke, yes.”
He was silent at the other end and she knew she had him. “Now, I want that information, in full, waiting for me when I get to Chicago. Fax it to our bureau there with a request it get to me in Zion. Do you follow, Doctor? Zach? Do you copy that?”
“ Yes, yes,” he grumbled, and hung up.
“ Bastard,” she muttered under her breath, seeing the two flight crewmen smiling at the show they were privy to. She stormed back to Kaseem. “Your girlfriend must want to crack this case very badly, Dr. Kaseem. She's quite an ambitious woman, isn't she?”
“ Teresa has only one goal, and that is the same as yours. We were not exactly welcomed in by you and Dr.
