She looked at him in surprise. 'What difference does it make? I had to persuade you to even let me do the reconstruction.'
'I want to know. If it is John Devon, it will give me somewhere to start. That’s more than I have now.' He paused. 'This is a real nasty can of worms,' he muttered. 'And I’ve got a feeling…'
She smiled. 'One of those ‘spooky’ profiler instincts?”
“So I get hunches occasionally. Nothing spooky about that.”
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“I guess not.'
He walked over to the window and gazed out. 'I’m worried about this killer. Those bodies were buried years ago and he was very careful even then. What’s he been doing since that time?
What did he do before Talladega? How long has it gone on?'
She shook her head.
'You know, I’ve often wondered what killers become if they’re permitted to go on for a long time. Do they change? How often can you kill before you change from monster to super monster.'
'Super monster? It sounds like something out of a comic book.”
“I don’t think you’ll find him funny if you ever have to confront him.”
“You mean a killer becomes smarter over the years.'
'Smarter, more experienced, more arrogant, more determined, more calloused.”
“Have you ever dealt with one of these super monsters?'
'Not that I know about.' He turned to look at her. 'But then, wouldn’t a super monster take on the coloration of everything around him? You’d pass him on the street and never suspect him.
If he’d been allowed to go on long enough, Bundy might have become a super monster. He had the fundamentals but he was too reckless.'
'How can you be this clinical?'
'If you let in emotion, you’re at an immediate disadvantage. The man who called you wouldn’t allow himself to become emotional if it got in his way. But he’d prey on your every emotion. It’s part of the power trip.' He shook his head. 'Don’t let him feel your fear. He’ll feed on it.'
'I’m not afraid of him.'
He studied her. 'I believe you’re telling the truth. Why aren’t you afraid? You should be.
Everyone’s afraid to die.' She didn’t answer.
'But maybe you’re not,' he said slowly.
'I have the same sense of self-preservation everyone does.'
'I hope you do.' His lips tightened. 'Listen to me, don’t underestimate this man. He knows too much. He could be anyone. He could be a clerk who works for the phone company or the cop who stops you for speeding or a lawyer with access to court records. Remember, he’s been at this a long time.'
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'How could I forget?' Her gaze shifted to the skull. 'I have to go back to work now.'
'I guess that’s my exit cue.' Spiro headed for the door. 'Let me know when you finish.'
'I will.' She had already closed him out as she began to join the markers.
Joe Quinn was waiting beside Spiro’s car. 'Come on, I want to show you something.”
“I didn’t think you’d go very far.' Spiro followed him around the house. 'You shouldn’t have left her alone.'
'I didn’t leave her alone. I was never out of sight of the cottage.' He left the driveway and moved into the shrubs. He knelt down. 'See these marks? Someone was here.'
'That’s not a foot imprint.'
'No, he cleaned the area. But the grass is bent. He tried to comb it, but he was in a hurry.'
'Very good.' Spiro should have known Quinn would pick up on any anomaly. He was sharp, and his SEAL training made him particularly formidable. 'You think it was our man?'
'I don’t know anyone else who would try to disguise his being here.”
“He’s watching her?'
Quinn raised his head, his gaze on the woods. 'Not now. No one’s out there.”
“You’d sense it?' Spiro said mockingly. 'ESP?'
'Something like that.' He smiled crookedly. 'Maybe it’s my Cherokee blood. My grandfather was a half- breed.'
And maybe it was that SEAL training again. Search out and destroy. 'You must have expected to find this or you wouldn’t have gone looking.'
