He looked at Betty, who shrugged. “This is weirder,” he agreed. Most of the letters they got simply recited verse from the Old Testament, or predicted rather dire consequences for people who did not follow the Lord’s teachings. But whatever else they were, they were not vague. “You have the original?”
She nodded. “Tagged and stored.”
As a precaution, the county attorney was tracking all of the original letters sent to its office, keeping each one sealed in plastic and dated.
“I don’t even get what this says,” Riley said.
“Some people need evil like others need faith,” Betty speculated, looking over his shoulder. “And today’s generation is greedy and immoral.”
“What is this, Philosophy 101?” Lightner asked. “Today’s generation is greedy and immoral? Today’s cop is hungry for a cheeseburger.” He nodded at Riley. “Can we go?”
Riley reread the letter. “This is weirder,” he repeated.
“Lawyers.” Lightner sighed. “Don’t make this more difficult, Riley. I’m starving over here: ”
“Yeah.” Riley thought for a moment.
24
THE DETECTIVES’ squad room at Area Four, Third Precinct, is filled with detectives and some uniformed officers, too. Detectives Ricki Stoletti and Mike McDermott stand up front. It’s nine in the morning. Everyone is on alert, a collective energy in the room.
Everyone is reading the sheet that has been put in front of them, the now-numbered lyrics to the second verse of Tyler Skye’s song “Someone.”
Ricki Stoletti speaks first. “‘An ice pick a nice trick praying that he dies quick.’ That’s Ciancio. ‘A switchblade oughta be great for lobotomy.’ That’s Evelyn Pendry.”
“So next up is a razor blade,” says someone in the back of the room.
Another guy, seated at the table, says, “So all we have to do is find out who has bought a shaving kit over the last ten years.” He gets some laughter, but this isn’t exactly a merry moment, least of all for Mike McDermott.
Still another guy raises a hand and nods to me. “It says ‘on the seventh day I rest.’”
I nod. “The sixth kill is suicide. He kills himself. No more itch. No more strife. No more hate. He’s done now. He kills himself on the sixth day, with the kitchen knife. On the seventh day, he rests. Obviously comparing his actions with those of God, in creating the world.”
A woman in the back says, “So the offender’s gonna do us all a favor and kill himself?”
“Burgos didn’t.” I shrug. “The first verse called for suicide at the end, too, and he ignored it.”
“That’s one of the reasons you beat his insanity defense, right?” says an older guy in the back. “Because he didn’t follow the song lyrics.”
Score one for the old-timer.
“Maybe when he’s done with this song,” says a big guy, standing against the wall, “he’ll follow the lyrics to that old Randy New-man song and start killing short people.”
“Yeah, maybe so,” says McDermott. “That’s strictly fucking hilarious.”
The minor burst of animation in the room quiets. When McDermott talks, they listen.
McDermott squints into the air. “Let’s start with what we know. We know this offender leaves a totally pristine crime scene. Two kills, no prints, no trace evidence. He holds them down and tortures them. Controls them. The scene is highly organized. Clean entries and exits. He leaves the weapons behind.”
He leaves the weapons behind. A good point. Everything else he did, he did on purpose.
He wants us to know.
“And then, page four of the packet,” McDermott continues. “We think this is our same guy who sent Riley these.”
Everyone flips to the back page.
“The first one-‘If new evil emerges’-Riley got on Monday. Two days ago.”
“The second one, he got yesterday.”
“In the first one,” I say, “he’s saying, if the murders start again, will we link it to Burgos-to past actions? Apparently, he’s about to tell us.”
“Yeah, and what about the second one?” Stoletti asks.
We’ve already been through these notes. I went to my office last night and showed them to Stoletti and McDermott.
“Hell if I know,” I say, rereading the message myself. “He’s mortal? He won’t go easily, but he’ll go at some point?” I look at McDermott.
“He’s talking about understanding,” he says. “Understanding the true message, whatever he thinks that message is. Right?”
“You have to be willing to betray convention,” I speculate. “To think
