an expert at detecting lies and the behavior of liars; she could detect fraud in all its various guises, and there was no duplicity in this room save what she sensed in Paul Zanek and P.C. Stephens, the two men both dancing around a bit, for reasons unknown. But in Kim Desinor, Jessica saw no guile, sensed no hidden agenda.
Stephens now rushed back in with a paper cup overflowing with water, quite unaccustomed to the task, slopping it onto Paul's beige carpeting. The spell between Paul and Kim was at once vanquished.
“ You got one hell of a jolt from that rosary,” Stephens said, handing the water to Paul, who immediately helped Kim to drink. “But it was placed in as a control item, not a…”
Zanek, gritting his teeth, waved the other man off.
After drinking her fill, taking in a deep breath of air and allowing Zanek to help her to the couch, Kim said to Stephens,
“ The rosary is hot. I'll want to keep it in my custody for…future…explorations.”
“ Hot?” he asked.
“ Psychic term,” said Jessica, giving herself away a bit, coming closer, taking Kim's hand and asking if she were all right.
“ What's it mean, hot?” asked Stephens.
“ Psychically hot… still warm with psychic emanations,” Kim explained. “I think I saw someone named Vic or Victor under attack. In fact, I was attacking him.”
“ If what you're saying is true, then Victor Surette, who was killed over a year ago, was the first victim in the Heart-Snatcher's series of killings,” replied Stephens, who'd had time to think about it. “Strangely enough, one of our detectives mentioned the same possibility; at least, it was kicked over, according to my people. But Surette never surfaced as a serious contender… never seriously, you know, linked with the others… before now, that is. This… this is… could change a lot of minds, the entire direction of the investigation, in fact, if…”
“ Killer didn't leave the rosary intentionally,” Kim said. “Wore it around the neck. Surette, as you call him, snatched it off in a scuffle. The killer didn't know it was lost until it was too late to retrieve it.”
“ Jesus, you got all that from those beads?” Stephens asked, his eyes popping.
“ I used to be Catholic,” she joked.
“ What about the killer?” Stephens asked. “Anything?”
“ Nothing clear… disjointed feelings… I wasn't actually in a position to see him.”
“ What do you mean, not in a position? Are there positions in this invisible world you go into?” asked a curious Jessica.
“ I was the killer for a moment, and there weren't any mirrors.”
“ You were seeing things through the killer's eyes?” Jessica pressed, flashing on Matisak, wondering at this moment what his eyes were surveying.
“ Precisely.” Kim drank deeply of the water now.
“ Can you tell us anything-anything at all about being him?” Jessica asked.
“ He's embittered, jealous, vengeful and full of rage all the time. Whoever he is, he's self-conscious…”
“ About what?” Jessica pressed.
“ His looks, his skin… some mark on his skin. And so he wears heavy makeup. It's the only time he goes to a mirror. Self-conscious about his weight and height and general ap-pearance, and he's got a mind full of bubbling hatred and emotional turmoil.”
“ Anything else?” asked Zanek.
“ No…nothing else, except for one thing.”
“ Yes?”
“ He intends to kill again.”
“ Why, and for how long?”
“ He doesn't know himself.”
“ Does he have any remorse?”
“ None of consequence, no; the pleasure overtakes him.”
“ The pleasure?” asked Stephens.
“ He derives great emotional release in controlling others.”
“ Controlling others?”
“ The ultimate power trip, complete control,” said Paul Zanek knowingly.
Jessica added, “This creep's like that bastard Matisak. A freaked-out maniac who gets high on controlling life and death. He gets his rocks off when he gets to play God, when he gets to decide.”
“ Gets to decide,” muttered Stephens, trying to follow Jessica's train of thought.
“ On whether or not you get to live or to die, Mr. Stephens.”
“ And the taking of the heart?” asked Stephens.
“ The ultimate warrior's prize, like eating the heart of the buffalo maybe,” Jessica suggested.
“ Could be any number of whys for the heart thefts,” Kim interjected. “Maybe he's a hopeless romantic, and maybe he enshrines the hearts like so many trophies, signs of his conquests.”
“ Agreed,” replied Jessica, “but it's much more likely the bastard's eating his trophies, that he's a cannibal like the Claw in New York a couple of years ago.”
“ You've dealt with more of these monsters than I have, Dr. Coran, so I bow to your judgment,” Kim said. “But isn't it also true that each one, while similar in many regards and while despicable and capable of inhuman and unholy acts, is uniquely twisted? That is, perverted in a fashion that is almost surely private and born of a unique fantasy world whose rules only the individual knows?”
Jessica bit her lower lip and considered the inherent warning that Kim was passing along: You don't catch one maniac by presupposing him to be the same as the last. She knew that, had always known that and had proven it time and again, both in the lab and in the field. But lately all the monsters roaming the black patches of the planet had converged into a single satanic creature for Jessica, and as with everything else in her life, her professional acumen had fallen serious prey to the Matisak syndrome she was under. And somehow Kim Desinor both knew this and understood, acknowledging Jessica's painful response.
“ Well, it appears we have much work to do,” Zanek said, having regained his professional distance on matters. “I believe, Commissioner Stephens, that you will be pleased with the team of Coran and Desinor.”
The two women exchanged a final look before Stephens and Zanek shook on it.
8
A wise man's heart is like a broad hearth that keeps the coals (his passions) from burning the house.
The New Orleans police commissioner approached Kim Faith Desinor where she rested now on Paul Zanek's couch. Jessica and Paul looked on as Stephens said, “I have one last envelope I would like you to take a look at, Dr. Desinor.” Zanek stepped in protectively, a cold glare for Stephens, and without a word the other man amended himself, saying, “That is, if you're up to it?”
“ I think she's had enough for one day, Stephens.”
“ No,” Kim breathlessly said, “no, let's finish this now, Paul.” She pulled herself up to a sitting position, took a deep breath, closed her eyes and silently counted to ten as she exhaled.
Jessica had to admire the woman's courage and stamina. Stephens now brought the second stack of photos to her. This time the victims were face up, having been turned to pose for the camera, their wounds thrown bare for the camera to catch, each in his deathly state: each young man's chest ripped open, each heart removed and replaced by the monster's idea of a receipt for the large muscle, the eye of the queen on a dirty, stained and frilled playing card staring up from three of the photos. Bile and blood had discolored most of the “cards,” but from closely angled shots Kim could see that the cards were stitched together with meticulous care, the original colors a rainbow of tints.
Each of these shots also showed the devastation done to the lower portion of the body about the
