* * *
—
Mr. Gray was an FBI legend who had overseen the Behavioral Analysis Unit at Quantico for two decades. Now pushing eighty, he had retired to Florida and lived behind a gate with his wife and three dogs. Allie had been referred to him by a supervisor and had made the necessary calls. Herman said he was bored and had plenty of time, especially if the conversation was about serial killers. He had tracked and studied them throughout his career, and, according to the legend, knew more about the breed than anyone. He had published two books on the subject, neither of which was particularly helpful. Both were more or less collections of his war stories, complete with gory photographs and a bit too much self-congratulation.
He greeted them warmly and seemed genuinely pleased to have guests. His wife offered lunch, which they declined. She served them iced tea without sugar, and they talked for the first half hour on the patio with the spaniels licking their ankles. When he began talking about his career, Lacy interrupted politely with “We’ve read both of your books, so we know something about your work.”
He liked that and tried to defer with “Most of that stuff is accurate. Maybe a bit of embellishment here and there.”
“It’s fascinating,” she said.
Allie said, “As I explained on the phone, Lacy would like to walk through each of the victims and get your thoughts.”
“The afternoon belongs to you,” Herman said with a smile.
Lacy said, “It’s extremely confidential and we won’t use any real names.”
“I understand discretion, Ms. Stoltz. Believe me, I do.”
“Can we go with Lacy and Allie?”
“Sure, and I’m Herman. I see you’ve brought a briefcase, so I assume there’s paperwork, maybe some photos.”
“Yes.”
“Perhaps we should go to the kitchen and use the table.”
They followed him inside, as did the dogs, and Mrs. Gray refilled their glasses. Herman sat on one side of the table and faced Lacy and Allie. She took a deep breath and began, “There are eight murders that we know about. The first was in 1991, the most recent less than a year ago. The first seven were by strangulation, same type of rope, same method, but for the last one no rope was used. Just a few blows to the head.”
“Twenty-three years.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Could we drop the ‘sirs’？”
“Yep.”
“Thank you. I’ll be eighty in two months but I am refusing to let the old man in.” Thin as a weed, he looked like he could walk ten miles in the hot sun.
“Obviously, we believe our suspect killed all eight people. Six men, two women.”
“There are probably more, you know?”
“Yes, but we have no knowledge of them.”
Herman took out his pen and found a notepad. “Let’s talk about Number One.”
Allie opened the briefcase and handed Lacy a file. She said, “Number One was a forty-one-year-old white male—all but one were white—who was found beside a walking trail in Signal Mountain, Tennessee.” She handed Herman a sheet of paper she had prepared with the words Number One typed in bold letters at the top. Date, place, age of victim, cause of death, and a color photo of Thad Leawood lying in the bushes.
Herman studied the summary and the photo and took notes. They watched him carefully and said nothing. When he had reviewed it, he asked, “Other than the body, was there anything from the crime scene?”
“The police found nothing. No prints, fibers, hair, no blood other than the victim’s. Same for all the crime scenes.”
“A strange knot, something like a clove hitch.”
“A double clove hitch, not very common.”
“Rare indeed. If he used it every time, then it’s obviously his calling card. How many blows to the head?”
“Two, with what appears to be the same weapon.”
“Autopsy?”
“The skull splintered, numerous cracks radiating from the contact point. The police in Wilmington, North Carolina, at another crime scene, thought it was something like a hammer or small round metal ball.”
“Works every time, though it does make a messy scene. The blood spatters to such a degree that the suspect probably had some on his clothing.”
“Which, of course, was never found.”
“Of course not. Motive?”
“The theory is that Number One sexually abused the killer when he was a young boy.”
“That’s a lot of motive. Any proof of this?”