‘Maybe the perp’s used to it. He could be a priest… an ex-priest or could make out to be one,’ said Rencher.
‘Yeah,’ said Bobby. ‘And I don’t believe Ortis was calling his business partner just for the hell of it. He might have had something else to tell him.’
‘OK,’ said Joe. ‘Find out some more about him, go back, talk to him again.’
‘No problem.’
Joe took a stack of pages and spread them out in front of him. ‘There are things they have in common and things they don’t. Look at these.’ He laid out the close-ups of each of the dead victims’ faces in chronological order: Gary Ortis, William Aneto, Ethan Lowry. ‘Gary Ortis’s face was the most damaged. His right eye socket was completely impacted. His father had identified him by a scar on his lower back from a childhood operation. His head had been slammed against the corner of the counter top. With William Aneto, most of the facial injuries were around the mouth, but his nose was shattered. Ethan Lowry’s injuries were around the mouth and his nose was untouched.
‘I don’t think the perp set out to create a signature, like a really identifiable MO for every crime,’ said Joe. ‘I think he’s just doing his thing as he goes along, the best way he knows how. It’s evolving. So he started bashing the guys heads off the corners of counter tops. But that’s hard to do, right?’
The men nodded.
‘You saw by the hand prints and drag marks all over the Aneto scene that there was some serious effort to fight back,’ said Joe. ‘The perp tried a similar approach again with Ortis. But then Mary Burig, a woman, survives. And Preston Blake gets away. The perp comes back again with Ethan Lowry and we see he’s finely tuned his act. He has the hammer. He seems to have done it exactly the way he wanted to. Almost tidier. More focused. Ethan Lowry is probably a good example of what he wanted to do.’ He paused. ‘But what’s his ultimate fantasy? What is it he really wants?’
‘Bashing their faces in is important,’ said Danny. ‘Because it’s not going to kill them. So that’s got to have something to do with it. And the asphyxiation…’
‘I don’t think he even realized at first that he was constricting their lungs,’ said Joe. ‘I think he was gone, his head was somewhere else…’
‘Probably,’ said Rencher.
‘We need to talk with Mary Burig’s brother, David, see if we can’t find out more about her and why this might have happened,’ said Joe.
It was 8 p.m. and David Burig stood in the kitchen of his Chambers Street apartment. A pot of chilli was cooking on the stove, an open carton of sour cream beside that. He was looking for a jar of jalapenos in the fridge when a call came in from the lobby.
‘David? I’ve got a Detective Lucchesi here to see you. Shall I send him up?’
David took a deep breath. ‘Uh, sure… Benny? Could you do me a major favor and pick me up a jar of jalapenos?’
Benny laughed. ‘Yeah. I’m good with emergencies.’
David went into the kitchen and took the chilli off the stove, replacing it with the kettle. He took down a packet of coffee.
The doorbell rang. He walked to the front door. He could see just the top of a man’s head in a black beanie. David opened the door. He quickly realized it wasn’t a beanie, it was a mask. And the man was drawing it down over his face. With one step, he pushed forward, his full force slamming against David’s chest, stunning him, sending him stumbling backwards. The door was closed. And a gun was an inch from his face.
‘I changed my mind,’ said The Caller.
Danny drove the Gran Fury down Chambers Street. Cars lined both sides.
‘Give me a space, someone,’ he said.
‘There,’ said Joe, pointing.
‘Too tight,’ said Danny.
‘You’ll make it,’ said Joe. ‘Come on. I’m starving. I need to eat.’
‘Before we go to Burig’s place?’
Joe shrugged. ‘I guess I can wait ‘til after.’
Standing in his kitchen, stripped bare, David had no control over his body as it shook, rigidly, spasmodically and violently. The Caller watched. David thought he could see sinews raised at his neck, but the ridges were evenly spaced and he realized the mask the man wore was boned, finely, contoured up his neck, crafted only for him.
‘What are you going to do to me?’ said David. But David knew what this man did. He had never considered that a victim’s first terror of knowing his death was in someone else’s hands could be followed by the second terror of knowing exactly how it would unfold. David’s rising fear was that fear itself would overwhelm him before he suffered the first physical wound. The more The Caller watched him, the more his body racked.
‘What do you want?’ said David.
‘To show you why what you did was wrong. You will have the pleasure of going through exactly what the other victims did.’
‘No,’ said David. ‘Please. I… no. Please don’t do that.’
‘Accept your responsibility.’
‘I’m not responsible-’
‘Tell me your big lie,’ said The Caller.
‘What?’
‘Just tell me. Everyone has a big lie. Everyone has little lies, don’t they?’
‘What are you talking about? I’ve never lied to you. I’ve helped-’
‘You have not helped me,’ said The Caller. ‘Do I look helped to you?’
‘I don’t know.’
The Caller stared at him, then shook his head. ‘You have lied to me, David Burig. You have. Think about it. Ever got involved in something you knew was a violation? Of the law? Of people’s trust?’
An ice cold trickle of sweat ran down David’s side as he contemplated his answer. He chose silence.
The Caller stared at him. ‘I want you to reveal the rotten, twisted shit scraped out from the cracks of your fractured mind.’
‘There’s nothing there.’
‘There are a lot of dead bodies there.’
David’s heart pounded, heavy and irregular.
The Caller, again, stared. This time something indefinable came to life in his eyes, a dark flame behind the whites. And he smiled.
‘Come with me. Open your closet.’ He gestured towards the bedroom and pressed his face close to David’s. ‘Show me the space under your bed. What do you hide there? What toys do you take out to play with in the dark when no-one’s around?’
‘Jesus Christ,’ said David. ‘This is what you do to people? Humiliate them. I don’t know where you’re going with this but-’ David released a breath. ‘I don’t understand.’
‘I don’t care.’
‘Please. Try me.’
‘Why?’
‘I could help you this time.’
‘Believe me. You are helping me. You helped me into your home. You helped me into your soul.’
He raised his head and stared at the ceiling. ‘You helped me affirm my beliefs. You helped me, David. You can take that with you.’ He wiped a hand down the black fabric of the mask. ‘And you will go on helping me.’
Joe and Danny walked in through the open door of the apartment building. There was no doorman at the desk.
‘Hello?’ said Joe.
‘These people pay all this money to feel safe in their apartments and this guy just goes out, takes a walk,’ said Danny. ‘Come on.’
David lay on his back on the hardwood floor, his head inches from the front door. The Caller was on top of
