The Night Stalker

something as absurd as a bomb, or as. .’ she shook her head as words escaped her ‘. . fucked up as a fan-out knife, and then stitching their bodies shut, that’s completely dancing-around-the-room-naked-smothered-in-peanut-butter crazy.’ She looked at Hunter. ‘But this isn’t what we’re dealing with here, is it? This guy isn’t insane. He’s not hearing the devil’s voice in his head or drinking his own piss, is he?’

Hunter shook his head slowly. ‘I don’t think so.’

‘An obsessed stalker going after his idols, then?’

Hunter tilted his head from side to side. ‘First impressions. . maybe, but if you look closely at the evidence, it goes against the possibility of an obsessed fan being behind these murders.’

‘How so? What evidence are you talking about?’

‘The lack of bruising.’

Captain Blake’s brow furrowed so hard, her eyebrows almost met.

‘Two victims,’ Hunter indicated with his fingers. ‘Both kidnapped and held hostage for around two weeks. You remember what Doctor Hove said, right? That if we take away the savagery of the stitches and the way in which they died, they were both untouched. Not a scratch. The killer didn’t lay a finger on them while they were in captivity.’

‘OK,’ the captain agreed. ‘And how does that relate to the obsessed fan theory?’

‘Obsessed fans spend a lot of time creating fantasies in their heads about their idols, Captain,’ Hunter explained. ‘That’s why they become obsessed in the first place. Most of these fantasies are sexual, some are violent, but none is about kidnapping their idols so they could chat for weeks over hot milk and donuts. If this guy were a fan obsessed enough to kidnap, chances are he wouldn’t be able to resist acting out at least one of his fantasies. Especially if he was prepared to kill them anyway. And if he did that, there would’ve been some sort of bruising somewhere on their bodies.’

Captain Blake looked pensive. They’d never be able to obtain confirmation that either of the victims had been raped. But Hunter was right; the lack of bruising on both of their bodies suggested that wasn’t what this killer was after. An obsessed fan was starting to sound improbable.

‘So who the hell could be capable of something like this?’ she asked. ‘A split personality job?’

‘Again, possible, but with what we have so far it’s hard to say.’

‘Why?’ she challenged. ‘You said so yourself, the killer went from passive to absurdly violent in one quick step. Isn’t that an indication of extreme mood swings? A drastic change in personality?’

Hunter nodded. ‘Yes, but the way he carries out his violence contradicts the theory.’

‘How’s that?’

‘The time and preparation behind both murders was too extensive.’

‘Slow down, big brain, I ain’t following you,’ she countered.

Hunter continued. ‘Mood swings and extreme personality changes have to be triggered, usually by a very strong emotion — like rage, or love, or jealousy. They don’t simply occur out of the blue. The new mood, or personality, takes over and stays for a while, but as soon as that rage, or whatever emotion it was that triggered it is gone, so is the personality. The person goes straight back to his or her normal self.’ He snapped his fingers. ‘Like waking up from a trance. How long do you think this trance can last, Captain?’

She started to catch on. ‘Not long enough.’

‘Not long enough,’ Hunter agreed. ‘The killer crafted a bomb and that knife from hell himself, not to mention the unique self-activating trigger mechanism. He also took time preparing the location where the victims were left, and then calmly sewed their body parts shut. All that takes a lot of time. Both preparing and executing it.’

‘And that would mean that the killer would’ve had to have been in an altered state of mind for days, maybe weeks,’ Garcia added. ‘Highly unlikely.’

Hunter nodded. ‘And then there’s also the current accepted opinion of modern psychology that Multiple Personality Syndrome doesn’t really exist. It’s a therapist-induced disorder perpetuated by a never-ending barrage of TV talk shows, novels and ill-conceived Hollywood movies.’

‘What?’

‘Basically, modern psychology believes that Multiple Personality Syndrome is complete bullshit.’

Captain Blake leaned against Hunter’s desk and undid both buttons on her suit jacket. ‘So we’re dealing with someone who knows exactly what he’s doing?’

‘I’d say so, yes.’

‘His creativity is proof of that,’ Garcia added.

Hunter nodded. ‘He’s also patient and self-disciplined, a rare virtue nowadays, even in the calmest of individuals. Add that to the level of craftsmanship he’s showed so far, and it wouldn’t surprise me if he were a watchmaker or even an artist himself. Maybe some sort of sculptor or something.’

The captain’s eyes widened. ‘Like a failed sculptor? Someone who was never as successful as his victims? You think this could be payback?’

Hunter shifted his weight to his left foot. ‘No. I don’t think this is born out of revenge.’

‘How can you be sure? Envy is a powerful emotion.’

‘If the killer is a failed artist after revenge because he never made it big, he wouldn’t target other artists. It’d make no sense. They wouldn’t be the reason he never made it.’

Garcia bit his bottom lip and bobbed his head in agreement. ‘The revenge would’ve been against agents, or gallery curators, or art critics and journalists, or all of the above. People who can make or break an artist’s career, not fellow artists.’

Hunter nodded. ‘Also Laura Mitchell and Kelly Jensen’s resemblance to each other isn’t just a coincidence, Captain. His victims mean more to him than just a vehicle for revenge.’

‘The killer also used the same MO, but inserted a different killing device into each of his victims,’ Garcia added. ‘I don’t think that was random. I think there’s a meaning behind it.’

‘What?’ Captain Blake asked. A speck of irritation crept into her tone as she crossed to the window. ‘What kind of relation could a bomb and a knife that didn’t even exist on this earth until a few days ago have with two painters?’

No one replied. The silence that followed held a different meaning for each of them.

‘So this new victim fucks up our lead on the James Smith guy, right?’ the captain blurted. ‘Everything we found in his apartment was about Laura Mitchell, not Kelly Jensen.’

‘Maybe not,’ Garcia argued. He started fidgeting with a paper clip.

‘And how’s that?’

‘Maybe he’s got another room somewhere else. Another apartment maybe,’ Garcia offered.

‘What?’ Captain Blake glared at him.

‘Maybe he’s that smart, Captain. He knows that with two victims, if he gets caught and only one of the rooms is found, he has a good chance of walking.’ He placed the paper clip, now bent out of shape, down on his desk. ‘As we already know, he adopted the name James Smith because he knew if anything happened, his name alone would hide him under a mist of people.’ He showed the captain his right index finger. ‘He pays his rent up front.’ Now the middle finger. ‘He pays his bills up front. If he is our guy, we know for sure he’s got at least one more place somewhere else: the place where he keeps his victims, ’cause we know he didn’t keep them in that apartment. If that’s the case, he could easily have another rented apartment somewhere else. Maybe under a complete different name. That’s why we can’t find him.’

Captain Blake leaned against the windowsill. ‘It’s an unlikely possibility.’

Garcia cracked his knuckles. ‘It’s also unlikely that anyone would create his own bomb, his own crazy knife, his own trigger mechanism and place it inside a victim before stitching her body shut.’ He paused for effect. ‘C’mon, Captain, the evidence says this guy is everything but predictable. He’s smart, very slick and very patient. Would it really surprise you if he did have another collage room somewhere else? It gives him deniability.’

‘Garcia is right, Captain,’ Hunter said, sitting at the edge of his desk. ‘We can’t discard James Smith simply because the room we found didn’t have anything about Kelly Jensen.’

‘And has he been sighted anywhere yet? Have the phone lines produced any useful tips?’

‘Not yet.’

‘That’s just great, isn’t it?’ She pointed to the street outside. ‘Over four million people in this city and no one seems to know who this James Smith really is. The guy has simply vanished.’ She crossed to the door and opened