CHAPTER SIX

After staring at the scene for a moment, Avery turned and looked down the street. Her eyes followed the path that Donald Greer must have been taking, all the way down to her right, where Kirkley intersected with Spring Street. She walked down the street, came to the intersection, and then turned.

Several thoughts entered her mind as she started to walk forward. Had the killer been on foot the entire time? And if so, why had he come in from Spring Street – a street just as barren and washed up as Kirkley? Or perhaps he had come by car. If that was the case, where would he have parked? If the fog had been thick enough, he could have parked anywhere along Kirkley and his car could have gone unseen.

If the man in the long black coat was indeed their killer, he had walked along this same route less than eight hours ago. She tried to envision the scene shrouded in thick morning fog. Because it was such a desolate area of town, it was not hard to do. As she walked slowly forward to the lot where the bones and the shards hard been found, she kept her eyes open for potential places the man could have ducked out of sight.

There were plenty of them, to be sure. There were six empty lots and two side streets that the man could have hidden in. If the fog had been thick enough, any of those locations would have made for ample cover.

That raised an interesting thought. If the man had hidden in one of those areas, he had let Donald Greer go by without bothering him. That took out the possibility of the murder being an act of sheer violence. Most people capable of that sort of violence would not have let Donald pass by so easily. In fact, Donald would have become a victim in most cases.

If she needed any further proof that the body had been burned somewhere else, this thought gave it to her. Perhaps, then, the item the man had been shifting beneath his coat had been a container holding the remains that he had dumped in the lot.

It made sense and she slowly started to feel a ramped-up sense of accomplishment. Now she was getting somewhere.

She walked to the lot where the remains had been found. Ever efficient and prompt, O’Malley had already cleared police away from the scene. She assumed he had done this just as soon as forensics had come by and collected the remains.

She walked to where the bones and ash had been dumped and simply stood there, looking around. The marshy area behind the lot was more visible than ever now. It was so close and much less open than the lot. So why would someone dump the bones in the middle of the lot rather than a weeded-over creek? Why would they put the remains right out in the open rather than ditching them in mud and stagnant water?

It was a question they had already approached. And in her mind, the answer was proof that they were dealing with a serial killer.

Because he wants people to see his work. He’s proud and maybe a little arrogant.

She thought he might be clever, too. The use of fog to hide himself indicated that he had planned things very well. He’d have to be persistent about checking the weather to make sure there would be ample fog. He also had to know the area relatively well. It would have to have taken some serious planning.

And fire…he’d have to know fire well. To burn a body so cleanly without charring or otherwise damaging the bones spoke of dedication and patience. The killer would really have to know a great deal about fire and the process of burning.

Burning, she thought. Fire.

As she studied the crime scene and envisioned the killer standing in this same place, she felt like she was missing something – that some crucial clue was staring her right in the face. But all there was to see was the marshy and muddy area at the back of the property as well as the small square of space where some poor victim had been dumped out as if they were nothing more than a standard pile of trash.

She looked around the empty lot again and wondered if perhaps the location of the remains was not as important as she thought. If the killer was using fire as a way to send a message to someone (either the victim or the police), maybe that was what she needed to focus on.

With an idea coming to her mind, she pulled out her phone and called up the closest cab company for a ride out of there. After the call was placed and the cab had been requested, she looked through her contacts and stared at her daughter’s name for five seconds.

I’m so sorry, Rose, she thought.

She pressed CALL and brought the phone to her ear as her heart broke a little.

Rose answered on the third ring. She sounded happy right away. Avery could hear music playing softly in the background. She could imagine Rose getting ready for their afternoon out and hated herself a little.

“Hey, Mom,” Avery said.

“Hey, Rose.”

“What’s up?”

“Rose…” she said. She felt tears coming on. She looked out at the empty lot behind her, trying to convince herself that she had to do this and that one day, Rose would understand.

Without Avery having to say another word, Rose apparently caught on to the emotion. She let out a little angry laugh. “Perfect,” Rose said, the joy now gone from her voice. “Mom, are you fucking serious right now?”

Avery had heard Rose curse before but this time it was like a dagger to her heart because she deserved it.

“Rose, a case came up. A pretty bad one and I have to – ”

“I know what you have to do,” Rose said. She did not scream. She barely even raised her voice. And somehow, that made it that much worse.

“Rose, I can’t help this. I certainly didn’t expect this to pop up. When I made those plans with you, I had a wide open schedule for a few days. But this thing popped and…well, things change.”

“I guess they do sometimes,” Rose said. “But not with you. With you, things pretty much stay the same…when it comes to me, anyway.”

“Rose, that’s not fair.”

“Don’t you even try telling me what’s not fair right now! And you know what, Mom? Just forget about it. This time and any other time you might want to pretend to play Good Mother in the future. It’s not in the cards for us.”

“Rose – ”

“I get it, Mom. I do. But do you know how much it sucks to have this woman as your mother…a kick-ass woman with a demanding job? A woman I respect the hell out of…but a woman that time and time again disappoints me?”

Avery had no idea what to say. Which was just as well, since Rose was done.

“Bye, Mom. Thanks for letting me know in advance, though. Better than being stood up altogether, I guess.”

“Rose, I – ”

But the line went dead.

Avery shoved her phone back into her pocket and took a deep breath. A single tear rolled down her face from her right eye and she wiped it away as quickly as she could. She then walked purposefully over to the area that had been cordoned off with crime scene tape earlier in the morning and stared at it for a very long time.

Fire, she thought. Maybe it’s more than something the killer is using for his acts. Maybe it’s symbolic. Maybe fire offers more of a clue than anything else.

So as she waited for the cab to arrive, she thought of fire and what sort of person might use it to deliver some sort of a message. It was hard to get a grasp on it, though, as she knew very little about arson.

I’ll need a second mind at work on this, she thought.

And with that thought, she pulled out her phone and called up the A1 headquarters. She asked to be put through to Sloane Miller, the A1 psychologist and in-house shrink for the officers and detectives. If anyone could tap into the mind of a killer with fire on the brain, it would be Sloane.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Avery was back at A1 headquarters half an hour later. Upon entering, she did not take the elevator up to her office. Instead, she remained on the first floor and walked toward the back of the building. She’d been here before when she had been ordered to speak with Sloane Miller, the on-hand psychologist, during her last big and daunting case and it had affected her in a way she had still not quite come to terms with. But now she was visiting for another reason…for insight into a killer’s mind. And, being in her element, the visit felt more natural.

She came to Sloane’s office and was relieved to find the door cracked open. Sloane had no real set schedule and was more of a first-come-first-serve sort of resource for the police force. When Avery knocked on her door, she could hear Sloane typing something into her laptop.

“Come in,” Sloane said.

Avery did, feeling much more at ease than the last time she’d met Sloane. Here in her office rather than her lobby-like setting for patients, things were a little more formal.

“Ah, Detective Black,” Sloane said with genuine cheer as she looked up from her laptop. “It’s so good to see you! I was very pleased to hear from you when you called. How have you been?”

“Things are good,” Avery said. But in the back of her mind she knew that Sloane would jump at the opportunity to analyze her issues with Rose and her complicated relationship with Ramirez.

“What can I do for you today?” Sloane asked.

“Well, I was hoping to get your insights into a particular personality type. I’m leading up a case involving a man that we are fairly certain is burning his victims. He’s left only bones and ash behind at the crime scene – cleaned bones, with no charring or damage. There’s also a pile of ash and a slight chemical smell to the air…coming from the ash, I think. It’s pretty clear he knows what he’s doing. He knows how to burn a body, which seems like a very specific knowledge to have. But I don’t think he’s using the fire solely as a tool for his acts. I need to know what sort of person would not only use fire in such a way but also use it as some sort of symbolism.”

“The idea that he’s using the fire as a symbol of sorts is a great deduction,” Sloane said. “In a case like this, I can almost guarantee you that’s what’s going on. At the heart of it, I think you might be dealing with someone that has an interest or maybe even a background in arson. Maybe he once had a job or hobby that included fire as a part of it. Studies have shown pretty resolutely that even children who are fascinated with campfires or matches show signs of an interest in arson-related acts.”

“Can you tell me anything about that sort of personality that might help us get this guy sooner rather than later?”

“I can certainly try,” Sloane said. “First of all, there’s going be some sort of mental issues, but nothing too deep. It could just be something as simple as a tendency towards anger in even the most innocent of situations. He’ll likely also be undereducated. Most repeat arsonists didn’t graduate high school. Some see it as a way to rebel against a system they could never understand – the whole some men just want to watch the world burn nonsense. Some will claim they set fires as an act of revenge but can never define what it is they are seeking revenge against.

“They usually feel isolated or set apart from the world. So there’s a good chance you’re looking for either a single man or a man that is part of a loveless marriage. I’d expect he lives alone in a small house – probably spends a lot of time in a home office, basement, or garage of some kind.”

“And what happens when you mix all of that with someone that clearly has no issue with killing people?”

“That does make it tricky,” Sloane admitted. “But I think the same rules apply. Arsonists are usually very interested in people seeing what they’ve done. Setting fires is a way to attract attention. They’re almost proud of it, like it’s something they created. As for your suspect leaving the remains…that’s a strange one. I suppose it could be linked to reports of arsonists visiting the scene of their fires to watch firemen put them out. The arsonist sees the firefighters working hard and feels that he made that happen – that the arsonist is, in a sense, controlling the firefighters.”

“So do you think our suspect might be hanging out nearby, watching?”

Sloane considered it for a moment and then shrugged. “It’s certainly a possibility. But the precision which you said he’s burning the bodies – right down to clean bone – makes me think that this guy is also patient and organized. I don’t think he’d so something as foolish as revisiting the scene of a crime.”

Patient and organized, Avery thought. That goes right along with his exquisite planning, using fog as cover to get his victims and dump the remains.

She thought of the way the bones had been put almost on display – almost as jarring and as obvious as a raging fire.

“Do you have any opinions on the case yet?” Sloane asked.

“I’m thinking it’s a serial killer. As far as we know, this is his first victim but the blatant way he displayed the remains irks me. More than that, there’s something very organized about collecting a victim, burning them just right, and then dumping the remains in a specific manner. It screams serial tendencies to me.”

“I’d agree with that,” Sloane said.

“I just wish some of the men I work with were that bright,” Avery said with a smirk.

“So how are you doing these days, Avery? No bullshit, please.”

“I really am okay, all things considered. For the first time in my life, my problems seem sort of normal compared to my past.”

“What sort of normal problems?” Sloane asked.

“Problems with my daughter. Relationship confusion with a guy.”

“Ah, the perils of a hard-working woman.”

Avery smiled, although she sensed a deeper conversation coming on. This was why she sighed internally when her phone rang at that exact moment. She dug it out of her pocket and saw Connelly’s number. “I have to take this.”

She nodded.

Avery stepped out of the office and answered the call in the hallway.

“Black, don’t let this go to your head, but you were right. Dental records came back from the remains. You nailed it. The victim is Keisha Lawrence. Thirty-nine years old and lived within a mile of the area.”

“What else do we know?” Avery said, looking past the compliments.

“Enough to ramp this thing up a bit,” he said. “I’ve got some guys digging on this but right now we know for sure that she had no immediate family in the area. The only person of interest we have is a boyfriend and a mother that died pretty recently.”

“Has anyone spoken with the boyfriend yet?”

“I’ve got someone on it right now. Meanwhile, I ran his background. This jack-off has a rap sheet of domestic abuse and bar fights. A real champ, this one.”

“Want me to get to him after your current guy?”

“Yes…go talk to this creep next. I’ll call Ramirez and get him off of the Boston College detail. He’s all yours for the rest of the day.”

Did she pick up a hint of sarcasm in his voice? She was pretty sure she had. Either that or she was getting paranoid.

Your sex life is not that important, she thought. Get over yourself.

“Haul ass, Black,” Connelly said. “Let’s get this guy before another pile of bones turns up.”

Avery ended the call and hurried down to the parking garage for a car. She thought of what Sloane had said about arsonists often watching firemen at work, feeling that they were controlling the firemen in a way.

Maybe we need to add potential voyeur to the list of potential suspect characteristics, she thought.

As for arsonists wanting to feel that they were controlling the people working to understand his crimes…Avery Black was no fireman and she sure as hell didn’t like feeling like someone was controlling her.

She pulled out of the parking garage quickly, the tires making a quick and satisfying shriek of traction as she sped out. Keisha Lawrence’s boyfriend was their first real lead on this case and Avery wanted to pay him a visit before anyone else.