Borderline (7 page)

After opening the top left drawer of his desk, he pulled out a framed picture. He sat down and leaned back in his chair, staring at the photo. It had been taken when he graduated from college. His mother had been so proud of him, and he’d been excited. As far as Tanner knew, he was the first of his family to graduate from high school, much less college. Once he got a job with the FBI, he’d been able to help his mother out with bills. She only stopped working when she was diagnosed with cancer.

He took after her in his lean build and dark eyes. Until she got sick, she’d looked more like his older sister than his mother, and she always joked about that with him. The months before she died were some of the most difficult he’d gone through, because he was alone with his grief. She wouldn’t let him dwell on it. She kept him laughing, though she did admit she regretted not being able to see him settled down and in love.

Coming out to his mother turned out to be easier than he’d expected. She had cried when he told her, and he thought it was because he disappointed her. She’d held his face and smiled up at him, explaining in her heavily accented English he could never disappoint her. She cried because it would be a tough journey he’d undertaken, and since she believed God didn’t make mistakes, she knew he didn’t have a choice.

One of the things she’d hated most about dying was not seeing any grandchildren, even though he explained he wouldn’t have any. She pointed out many gay couples adopted, and they’d argue about the possibility while she had her chemo.

He rubbed his thumb over the glass and murmured, “I miss you, Mama.”

A knock on his door caused him to return the picture to the drawer before he called out, “Come in.”

MacLaughlin peered around the door frame. “The rangers will be here in a few. I wanted to check and make sure you were ready for this.”

“Yeah. I’ll have a preliminary report ready for everyone. Got some ideas that might be helpful, and I’m checking a few other things out as well. I’m going to have to go over to the rangers’ headquarters and look through all the actual evidence from the different crime scenes.” Tanner stood and strolled over to the board. He tapped the picture of the first victim. “I think we’re missing something.”

“Well, don’t tell me. Wait until we’re all in the same room before you go into your spiel.” MacLaughlin shook his head. “I read the rangers’ profile, and even if they’re only half right, this is one sick fuck.”

“They’re all sick fucks, boss.” Tanner scrubbed his hand over his hair.

“True. How long have you been doing this, Wallace? Six or seven years?”

“Seven.”

Probably six years too many
. His head pounding, he wandered back to his desk and dug out a bottle of aspirin. Shaking out four pills, he dry swallowed them with a grimace.

“You would think you’d get used to this after a while, but I’ve been in the bureau for almost twenty years, and I still haven’t gotten used to the horrible shit humans do to each other.” MacLaughlin frowned. “Of course I don’t get too in-depth in the cases anymore, not like you.”

Tanner wished he didn’t have to study photos like the ones in front of him, but he did, and those mutilated bodies haunted his dreams at night. When he first started in the Behavioral Science Unit, he’d drink himself to sleep every night, trying to drown out the blood and gore. All that got him was a pounding headache the next morning and an ulcer. Finally he simply learned to compartmentalize every aspect of his life. He did his best to leave his work at the office, but it didn’t always happen. Something told him the victims of this latest killer would be one of those cases.

“I’ll let you get back to the case. I’ll see you in about thirty minutes. We’ll just meet in here since you have the board set up.” MacLaughlin waved a hand to the pictures.

“I’ll be ready.”

After his boss left, Tanner went through the bull pen, nodding to some of his fellow agents as he headed toward the break room. While he waited for his water to heat, he grabbed a napkin and tried to draw the carvings. He took his tea and the drawings back into his office. He sat at his desk and closed his eyes, continuing to draw them as he could remember them.

* * * *

“How do you like working with the fag?” Sorensterm strolled up to Mac’s desk and plopped his ass on the edge where Mac gathered his files for the meeting.

Mac glared at him. “I don’t like that word or the tone of your voice. I don’t care who Agent Wallace sleeps with as long as he does his job. His personal life is none of your business, Sorensterm.”

“Why? Are you and the Fed best friends now? Or are you a cocksucker yourself?” Sorensterm leaned closer to him. “Do you take it up the ass, Guzman?”

Anger surged through Mac, causing him to reach out and grab the man’s shirt. He twisted his fist in the fabric and jerked Sorensterm closer.

“Don’t ever say those words in my presence again, Sorensterm,” Mac snarled as he shook the other man. “You do realize, if I was gay, what you’re doing would be harassment, and I could get you fired for it.”

Sorensterm’s eyes widened, but his grin stayed snarky. “What if your fellow rangers found out you were gay? Might be something to consider, jackass. Bet they’d be disgusted like I am at the thought of homos. They might not be eager to help out a queer.”

“Are you threatening me?”

“Eye for an eye, detective.” Sorensterm smirked. “What if the captain finds out your connection to the latest victim? I’m sure he’ll be thrilled to know what I do.”

Mac shoved Sorensterm away and shook his head. “You can’t blackmail me with that. I told Billingsley this morning, and he’s keeping me on the case.”

Disappointment crossed Sorensterm’s face. Mac resisted the urge to do a small victory dance. He had scored one for his side.

“I see anything to make me think you’re queer, Guzman, I’ll let everyone in this department know.”

After delivering the threat, Sorensterm strolled off, and Mac’s pulse quickened.
Shit
! He needed to trust the guys in his department would back him in any kind of play, yet if they knew he was gay, they could leave him in a situation where he’d be killed.

Mac couldn’t help but wonder what Sorensterm would do if he found out four of the seven men they regularly played poker with were gay. Of course, none of the other men were from their company. Most of them were from the DEA or some of the other federal agencies. The man would shit himself.

“Ready, Mac?” Billingsley asked as he walked from his office.

It seemed no one else had noticed the confrontation between Mac and Sorensterm.

“Yes, sir.”

* * * *

“I didn’t realize the bureau agreed to afternoon naps. Maybe I should come work with you.”

Tanner flipped Mac off but didn’t open his eyes immediately. He heard the chairs scrape on the floor and two grunts as Mac and Billingsley, Tanner assumed, sat. Rustling papers were the only noises for a moment before someone cleared his throat.

“Are you done meditating or whatever the hell you’re doing?”

He opened his eyes and rolled them at Mac. “I wasn’t meditating or sleeping for that matter.”

Billingsley frowned. “Then what were you doing?”

After pushing the pile of drawings toward Mac and the ranger captain, he stood and strolled over to the board. “I’ve been trying to figure out what symbol is etched into their breasts. It’s been hidden by the intricate design, but it’s there. I was trying to draw the designs to see if I can repeat it.”

MacLaughlin walked in and shook Billingsley’s hand. “Good to see you again, Captain. Is this everyone?”

“Yes. I’ll have Mac update the others at headquarters for now. When Agent Wallace has more, we’ll call a meeting of the entire task force for him to bring everyone up to speed.” Billingsley glanced at Tanner. “Well, are you ready to wow me, Agent Wallace?”

“I’m not sure what you’re expecting, Captain. What I tell you will probably be what your own profiler already found out during his examination of the scenes.”

“Maybe, or maybe you’ll have seen something he missed. I’d rather catch this asshole than worry about the feelings of the men working for me.” Billingsley shrugged. “You might be right as well. You might not see anything new, but you’ve only been looking for a couple of days. I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt.”

“Thank you.”

Mac stared at Tanner’s drawings like he was trying to see what Tanner talked about. Whether Mac believed him or not, Tanner didn’t care. His instincts screamed to look beneath the surface and find clues to the killer’s identity.

“The floor is yours, Tanner.” MacLaughlin gestured toward him.

Folding his arms over his chest, Tanner looked at the three men seated in the room. “I’ve gone over the pictures several times, looked at them from all the different angles available. I can tell you some basic things about the guy.”

He pointed to the photos, tracing the wounds with his finger. “You’re definitely looking for a male. Not just because a majority of serial killers are male. If the killer was female, she would have to be extremely strong, and if a female bodybuilder was seen in the area, someone would have noticed.”

Mac snorted. “That’s true. There haven’t been any witnesses coming forward. They only seem to notice the women were missing, but they don’t know who took them.”

Tanner nodded. “I’m not surprised. Okay, so you’re looking for a male, probably around six-four or six-five, and he’s strong. None of the blood tests came back positive for drugs, which leads me to believe he overpowered them before stuffing them in his car or however he transports them. More than likely, he drives a van or a truck with a cap on the back, so he can move them without anyone seeing.”

“Do you have a thought about race or age?” Mac pulled out a notebook and pen.

“He’ll be in his mid to late thirties. As for race, I’m not sure. I haven’t seen any indicators to make you focus on one ethnic group over another, though traditionally African Americans don’t tend to be serial killers.” Tanner gestured again to the knife injuries. “Another thing suggested by the wounds is he’ll be left-handed.”

“Okay, explain why you believe that,” MacLaughlin spoke up. “I’ve never understood how you profilers come up with that from just looking at the wounds.”

“Mac, could you pull out the ME’s autopsy reports for the first four victims from their files on my desk?” Tanner nodded toward the pile of folders. “We don’t have the papers for the latest victim, but I’m confident they’ll tell us the same things as the others.”

Mac grimaced at the mention of Marissa but dug through all the files to pull out the right reports. He started to hand them to Tanner, but Tanner shook his head.

“I don’t know if you all want to look at them, but the ME was very thorough. He measured the depth of each stab wound. His determinations helped me with my ultimate conclusions. When you have a left-handed attacker striking from the front, the wounds will be deeper on the right side of the victim, even if the person being attacked isn’t fighting back. Again based on the evidence found at the scenes, we’re operating on the assumption that he bound them.”

“But wouldn’t the depth of the wounds be the same on both sides if there wasn’t any struggling or fight?” Billingsley asked, reading through one of the ME’s reports.

“Not entirely. You would still have deeper wounds on the right side, simply because the strength of the dominant hand would bring more force into his strikes.” He shrugged. “It’s not an exact science, but I haven’t been wrong yet when I’ve used the theory.”

He picked his tea from his desk and took a sip, wrinkling his nose in distaste at the lukewarm liquid. There wasn’t time to get more. He strolled back over to the board and stared at the pictures for a moment.

“The perp hangs his victim by her wrists before he starts the torture,” Tanner commented softly as his gaze outlined the bruises on the delicate wrists. “He doesn’t kill them where he dumps them, but he uses the same type of room or spot. Industrial warehouse with brick walls.”

Billingsley started to say something, but Tanner saw Mac stop him with a quick shake of his head. Sometimes profiling was almost like being psychic, yet Tanner’s knowledge came from studying hundreds, if not thousands of crime scene photos. He read articles and interviewed mass murderers, serial killers, and sociopaths. Each piece of research etched a scar into his soul until sometimes, at night, Tanner stared at the ceiling, wondering how much more of this he could do before he went over the edge into darkness himself.

“If you look at the photographs of their backs, you can see where their skin scraped against the brick each time he struck them. I’m sure the ME did tests to see if he could get any residue out of those abrasions.”

“Did you read any of the ME’s reports?” Mac sounded surprised at the possibility.

“Only the parts about the knife wounds. I haven’t gotten to the nonfatal injuries yet.” He stepped over to the second victim. “He starts with a shallow cut or two, teasing them with the hope that all he wants is to rape them. The perp likes the power he garners from playing with them. It’s not about sex, and he wouldn’t degrade himself by touching them in that way. With each new slice, he goes a little deeper, and as the blood runs down her body, she realizes she’s not getting out. That’s when she starts struggling.”

He blinked and turned to look at the trio of men sitting there. Billingsley and Mac stared at him, a little stunned by Tanner’s recitation of what probably happened during the murders. MacLaughlin didn’t even blink since he’d seen Tanner work before.

“What else?” He waved at Tanner to continue.

“He cuts until she passes out from blood loss. Once she’s no longer conscious, he slices her throat and leaves her hanging until she bleeds out. After that, he waits until it’s safe to move her. At the dump site, he arranges her in the pentagram display.” Tanner rubbed his chin. “Like I mentioned before, we need to focus on the designs on their chests. That is the important part of his ritual.” Tanner shoved his hands through his hair, tugging on the ends once before he whirled and grabbed the enlarged prints of the carvings. He handed them to the trio.