“Maybe they get their kicks just as much from watching the suffering,” Zane suggested quietly, not looking up from his paper. His fingers moved over the charts, still making notes from the case files. “The best developing pattern is the fact that the victims are so different. Like he’s choosing specifically based on some reasoning. A majority of serial killers fixate on a particular style of victim—young blonde women or rich g*y men, for instance.”
“Yes, dear, I’m aware of that. That’s my point. We have a thirty-seven-year-old male stockbroker; overdosed with shitty-quality meth,” Ty said as he closed his eyes and rested his head back against his chair. He shook his head, reciting everything from memory. “Next, Susan Harris, a twenty-something hooker found in nothing but a six hundred-count white sheet in the most exclusive cemetery in the state, all her teeth gone and no apparent cause of death. Then a double murder. Two young women: Allison McFadden and Theresa Escobar. Roommates, both suffocated, positioned in their beds as if they were sleeping. The only notable thing about them is that their hair had been dyed postmortem. Then we have the infamous set of twins who got the Bureau involved, Ryan and Russell Stevens. Killed at the Tri-State marker, one man in each of the bordering states, shot dead. Late fifties, an apparent double-suicide, if not for the token left by the killer.”
He rolled his neck and shook his head, trying to make sense of it.
“The first guy was a brunet, the hooker was a bottle blonde but a natural brunette, the second and third were blonde and black-haired, then dyed the opposite, and the twins were both redheads. Both sexes, no common body type. Brown eyes, green eyes, blue eyes … hell, he doesn’t even leave the same tokens! Fuck it!” he spat. “All serials have patterns. It’s got to be there,”
he muttered to himself.
“Not having a pattern can be a pattern.” The patient distraction was clear in Zane’s voice.
“If he’s intelligent and not quite insane, he may be deliberately toying with us. It’s a game to him.” While Ty was getting frustrated, Zane kept himself removed, focusing on the numbers and the data. “I want to plot the locations of the bodies to get an idea of the territory we’re looking at.” He looked up to see Ty frowning, and Zane’s curiosity got the best of him. “Tell me, Grady, why the hell are you here? Why did Burns put you on this case?”
“I understand that there is a pattern,” Ty responded slowly, ignoring the question momentarily. “I want to know what the f**k it is,” he ground out patiently. He leaned back and rolled his neck. “And he put me on it because he knows me. I’m good at sneaking around and I’m good at mind games,” he said curtly, not choosing to elaborate.
Zane nodded slowly. He was starting to see why they’d been paired up for this freak show. Ty was good at mind games, Zane was good at details and patterns. And they so obviously didn’t work well together that they didn’t even need to make a show of it for the New York team.
“I’ve got enough here,” he announced, closing his file and notebook.
“Tomorrow we’ll talk with the NYPD detectives, and Serena Scott should return my call. Henninger and Morrison will either get us access to the scene, or we’ll get access on our own.” He pushed back from the table. “You have anything else?” His voice was neutral.
“No,” Ty muttered without moving. He was still staring at the files and frowning.
Zane watched him silently for a long moment before saying, “Ready to head over to the hotel? I don’t know about you, but I’m ready for dinner and a drink.”
“You drink on duty?” Ty asked incredulously as he finally tore his eyes away from the files.
“Doesn’t everyone?” Zane headed for the hall. “I have a new smartass partner to deal with, so certainly I can’t be blamed,” he muttered under his breath while he walked to the door and out of the lab. A few beers with dinner wouldn’t even register on a Breathalyzer with his body mass and would go a long way to new brainstorms, but he didn’t dare. That didn’t mean he didn’t dream otherwise, though.
“You’ve never been a field agent before, have you?” Ty asked with disdain, calling out the question as he remained at the table, staring at the files and crime-scene photos.
Zane stopped at the door, taking a moment to order his thoughts and push away the ghosts of his constant nightmares. “A drink now and then is not going to end the world. I’m guessing that you came from deep cover, which means you were always looking over your shoulder, living the part every minute, knowing one mistake would send you to the morgue.” Zane knew the situation very well. “While it’s admirable, and arguably the most difficult job the Bureau does, you’re going to have to figure out how to downshift, or the people we work with are going to strangle you. You can’t work around the clock and stay sharp enough to crunch this much data and get inside a madman’s head.”
Ty tore his eyes away from the papers again and looked up at Zane seriously. “You think those boys down in the morgue downshifted before he killed ’em?” he asked flatly.
“I think they were locked down as securely as they could get, with no reason to think they’d be found, much less attacked. Which means one of two things,” Zane responded, brown eyes hard and unflinching. “They’d either already screwed up and exposed themselves or someone who knew where they were gave them up, either by mistake or not. Either way, letting down their guard made no difference. They were already dead.”
Ty just shook his head and snorted derisively. He knew he was damned if he was going to let himself be shot in the chest as he slept. You never thought you were safe. Feeling safe got you killed.
Zane could almost see the tension pouring off Ty in waves. “Are you going to the hotel or are you planning on staying here all day?” he asked.
“I’m going to a hotel,” Ty answered as he stood and gathered his coat and satchel. “A different hotel. And you’re coming with me.”
Zane simply leveled a gaze at him, waiting for explanation. It was the first time the other man had even remotely indicated that he wanted Zane anywhere around him.
“I don’t plan on losing another agent to this shit, got it?” Ty responded sharply as he stuffed several of the files in his bag and glared back at Zane. “Even if it is you.”