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“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.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Avery parked in front of the boyfriend’s apartment just as Ramirez was getting out of his own car in front of her. He gave her a smile that felt different than usual. Whether she wanted to admit it or not, they were bonding in a way that went much deeper than a simple partnership at work.
“How were things at the college?” Avery asked as they met at the stairs to the house.
“Stuffy. Some stupid protest-related thing. So what’s the deal here?”
“Boyfriend with an aggressive past. Pretty rough abuse-related rap sheet. I got a call on the way over that says he was almost confrontational with the police who broke the news.”
“So fun times ahead, huh?” Ramirez asked.
Avery nodded as they started up the stairs. She buzzed the doorbell and listened to heavy footsteps approaching the door. Within seconds, a slightly heavyset man answered the door. He was thick in the gut, but shoulders and arms that had clearly seen some time in the gym stood out from the tank top he wore. Both arms were decorated with several tattoos, one of which was a naked woman straddling a skull.
“Yeah?” he said, sounding more irritated than sad.
“Are you Adam Wentz?” Avery asked.
“Who’s asking?”
Avery flashed her badge and said, “I’m Detective Black and this is Detective Ramirez. We’d like to ask you some questions about Keisha.”
“I’ve talked about her enough today,” Adam Wentz said. “Having two policemen come to your house early in the morning to tell you that a woman you’re seeing is dead is a hell of a way to start your day. So I’m done talking about it.”
“Forgive me for saying so,” Avery said, “but I’d expect a man who had just lost his girlfriend in such a tragic way would want to help in any way he could while the police try to get to the bottom of it all.”
“No matter what you find, it won’t bring her back now, will it?” Adam said.
“No, it won’t,” Avery said. “But any information you can give us might help find the man that did it.”
Adam rolled his eyes. “So am I supposed to invite you in and weep on the couch about how much I miss her and how badly I want the killer brought to justice? Some shit like that?”
“Would that be so bad?” Ramirez asked.
With that, Adam stepped out of the doorway, closed the door behind him, and stood on the front stoop. It was clear that Avery and Ramirez were not going to be invited inside.
“I’m really not in the mood for this,” Adam said. “So let’s make it quick. What do you want?”
Avery took a moment to try to figure out his hostile attitude. Was it some sort of weird way to express his grief? Was he hiding something? It was too early to know for sure.
He either knows something or was more hurt by the news than he expected, she thought. We have to be careful with our questions here.
“For right now,” Avery said, “we’re just trying to narrow down our options and figure out a timeline.”
Adam crossed his arms and gave a quick and gruff “All right.”
“Can you provide a timeline of where you were over the course of the past two days?” Avery asked.
“I went to work yesterday and the day before. Clocked in at eight, clocked out at five thirty both times. I came home, had a sandwich and a few beers for dinner. A very exciting life, as you can see.”
“Did you see Keisha during any of that time?” Avery asked.
“Yeah. She came over around seven the night before last. We watched some TV and then had sex on the couch.”
Avery felt anger flaring up in her – that a man like Adam Wentz could speak about his recently deceased girlfriend in such an offhanded way placed a drop of acid in her stomach. Behind her, she sensed Ramirez taking a step closer. She knew from working with him that he wasn’t taking well to Adam’s mood, either.
“Did she sleep over?” Avery asked.
“No. She hasn’t slept here in a while. She says it makes her late for work.”
“It doesn’t have anything to do with your history of abusing women?” Ramirez asked.
Avery cringed, not liking that Ramirez had taken the conversation in that direction. Adam looked directly at him, totally unthreatened, and scowled.
“No, actually,” Adam said. “It’s because her apartment is about twenty minutes closer to her work, you prick.”
Ramirez stepped closer, now standing beside Avery and about three feet away from Adam.
“What did you do after she left two nights ago?” Avery asked.
“I went to bed, just like I did last night,” Adam said. “Woke up this morning and started getting ready for work. That’s when I got the call that Keisha had died. Your two cop friends were over about half an hour later.”
“How did you feel when getting the news?” Avery asked.
“What kind of stupid question is that?”
Ramirez stepped up one more time, now on the stairs. He glared up at Adam with far too much contempt in his gaze for Avery’s liking. “Can you just answer the question?” Ramirez asked.
“I was surprised,” Adam said. “A little sad, I guess. Yeah, she was sort of my girlfriend but it wasn’t too serious.”
“How long had you dated?” Avery asked.
“About seven months. We weren’t committed or anything.”
“And is there any way you can prove you were at home last night? Maybe you went online at some point and we could check your internet history. Something like that?”
“No, and I don’t…wait…are you actually thinking I did this? You think I killed her?”
“No, I didn’t say that,” Avery said. “I’m just trying to establish where you were when we believe she was killed. Trust me…I would love nothing more than for you to provide a reason to eliminate you from the equation.”
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