Chapter Seventeen – Profile of a Killer

It was dark when Jesse woke up, and for a moment he had no idea where he was. The shadow filled room didn't look at all familiar, and as he felt his heart beating faster and faster in his chest he closed his eyes tightly. Maybe they had him again, but he wasn't tied up, or in a cage, or anything, he was in a bed, he guessed he could have been drugged, that must be it, he'd been drugged. But he was awake now, and there was no one with him, he should try to escape, if he could get to the outside, into the air they wouldn't get him. He had always been free when he was outside. Slowly and carefully Jesse opened his eyes again, and realised where he was, recognised the pictures on the walls, the covers on the bed, he flopped back against the pillows knowing that he was safe at the beach house, but exhausted from the emotion of his waking, and scared by his reactions and inability to remember something so fundamental as where he was.

. . . . . . . . . .

The article in the paper had been more prominent this time, and Dominic clipped it and carefully stored it away with the others. Finally they were making a connection between the deaths, it was about time. He had seen them, watched them make their way to where he had left her, a tall man with light brown hair and a shorter woman with darker brown hair. Shame, it would have been so much fun if it had been blonde. Dominic knew that he needed to go out, he needed to go and be sociable, find a crowd to join, but Mondays were dead, dead boring. Suddenly he knew what he would do; it wouldn't take long, not if he used the car. That nosey janitor would be around, but Matthew could deal with him. He smiled, excited that he had something to do and anxious to get started on it right away.

. . . . . . . . . .

Rae had picked up her daughters from Sally and driven straight home, Anneya had been fractious in the car, and had fallen into a disturbed sleep just as they turned into the driveway. Rae had tried not to wake her but she hadn't been successful and once inside the house it had taken her almost thirty minutes to quieten her down and make her comfortable enough that she wanted to be sociable. The meal Rae had taken out of the freezer before leaving for work was defrosted in the refrigerator, and she placed it in the microwave to cook while she stuck the first picture that Eliana had brought home from pre-school on the door of one of the kitchen cabinets.

"Vat's me, you, Neya and Daddy, and vat is Unki Teve." Eliana pointed to each person in turn and then beamed at her mother.

"It's beautiful, sweetheart, thank you for drawing it for me." Rae had crouched down and kissed her daughter gently on her soft silky cheek. "You are a very clever girl. Now, tell me about your day at school and Anneya too, we can sit at the table and wait for tea while we listen to you."

The whole experience had been very pleasant, and Rae had enjoyed the sound of her eldest child's happy chatter which filled the room and helped her to unwind. Anneya hadn't eaten very much of her meal, a fish pie that she usually loved, and Rae had been a little concerned to discover that she had a slight temperature.

They had been sitting together in the playroom reading stories and finding things hidden on the pages of the book when the doorbell rang and Rae answered it to find that Ron Wagner had arrived. For a while longer stories had been read and then Rae had excused herself to put the girls to bed. Rae had given Anneya some infant Tylenol and sat with her for a little longer than usual because she was sure that her youngest daughter had the start of a cold. She kissed Eliana and her sister and then made sure that the baby monitor was switched on before heading down the stairs to call Steve and let him know that they were ready to start work.

. . . . . . . . . .

Steve had arrived home to find dinner was waiting for him, and would be ready as soon as he'd had a shower and a half hour in front of the TV. He had done as he was told and had then been delighted to be able to sit down and eat with his wife and son. He knew that something was up, although he couldn't work out what. Michael had left for Texas that morning, and he had expected Jo and Daniel to be a little downcast. They both loved the butler very much and missed him on the rare occasions when he was away. The atmosphere though was anything but how he expected it to be. There was an air of expectation of something wonderful about to happen and in the end, half way through his meatloaf, salad and fries he had put his cutlery down on the plate and looked at the two pairs of shining eyes watching his every move.

"Ok, give. Something is up, or has happened or … or something. The pair of you are like … I don't know, kids on Christmas day, so come on, give … or I won't eat my dinner!" Steve folded his arms as he made his light-hearted threat. Although he didn't know it his eyes were shining too, and the whole room was alight with love and anticipation as Daniel handed over an envelope and waited, sure that his dad could hear his every breath or heart beat. Steve slid the letter out and read it, and then a big smile crossed his face. "This Friday? Daniel, that's just wonderful."

"And you'll come? You'll be able to be there with Mom and me?" The boy's eyes showed his concern and he looked worried as he spoke.

"Of course. I'll book the day off when I get into work tomorrow, and even if I can't take all of it, I'll make sure I'm there. Rae wouldn't let me work anyway." Steve smiled again, looked over the letter once more and let out a deep contented sigh. If all things went according to plan, and there was no reason for them not to, then by this time on the Friday Daniel would really be their son, in the eyes of the law, the whole world, as well as in their hearts. Steve reached his hand out across the table and took his son's slightly smaller one into his own. "There is nowhere else in the world I would want to be than with you and your mom when this is all finalised, nowhere else at all."

Daniel was thrilled by what his dad said, but not really sure how to reply to him and so he was eternally grateful to whoever it was on the phone which suddenly began to ring in the hallway. For a moment everyone just sat there, and then they all realised at once that Michael was away and they needed to answer it themselves. Daniel jumped to his feet and rushed towards it, and then yelled out, "Dad, it's Rae, she says to tell you that Ron is at Oak Place and they are ready when you are."

"Tell her I'll be about ten minutes, maybe a little longer." Steve tried to drag his mind away from pleasant family activities and back to brutal murders and the personalities of the people who perpetrated them, it wasn't easy, but he knew he had to do it. Just as he owed it to Daniel to be with him on the Friday, so he owed it to Nadine to get back to work right now.

. . . . . . . . . .

Rae had given Ron a copy of all the files that they had on their red rose killer and then she had made him a cup of coffee. After that she had left him to work quietly one end of the dining table while she began to go through the papers from Elizabeth Kagan Masters' lawyer at the other.

Rae knew that if Ron had any questions he would ask her, if not he wouldn't want to hear any of their theories until he had gone through everything himself. She had read a couple of books on FBI profiling and it was an area that she found fascinating. There was no way that she would consider herself half way to being an expert, but she did have an idea how to begin to put a profile together, and was looking forward to seeing if Ron agreed with some of the things she had worked out for herself.

The papers from Holen, Holen and Mayer were typical of the type she would expect to get from a lawyer, and they didn't make for easy reading. Rae had found in the past that the best way for her to deal with anything containing legalese was to write notes in her own words for each paragraph and then re-read what she had written. The first thing that she had looked for had been the will, and there had been three of them, the most current one being dated three years ago, which Rae presumed Elizabeth had changed because of the presence of John Masters in her life once more.

Straight away Rae had realised that she was onto something, and her gasp had caused Ron to look up. "Rae?"

"Sorry, I didn't mean to disturb you, but I just found out a very interesting fact, very interesting indeed." Rae's face was alive with her discovery, she knew that what she had was important; she wasn't sure quite how important, but it was definitely interesting.

The room descended back into silence and the two friends began working again. Ron was impressed by the detail in all the notes he had been given and the beginnings of a profile were already coming together. He heard the doorbell and saw Rae move out into the hallway to let her partner in, but he returned to his work almost immediately.

. . . . . . . . . .

It was a nice night, the air in Santa Monica was clean and fresh, the smell of the ocean pleasantly wafting over him in the breeze. Just being here, sitting on the grass, where, if you looked closely, you could still see the blood, made him feel … powerful, strong again. She had been so lovely, so friendly and talkative. They had enjoyed each other's company. As he sat there, their conversation played over in his mind.

"Are you always gonna work in a drug store?"

"No, I hope not." She had shaken her head. "My mom runs the fitness centre at the hotel, but we want to open one together. She is just so good, her clients love her. I'm going to save my money for a year or two and then go to college and get a degree in management. I'll work too, that way we can have the money together for our own place much sooner. What about you, what do you do?" She had moved a little closer as she spoke to him and he had put his arm around her.

"I'm a hairdresser, I'd love to have my own place, but right now I just like working and enjoying being in LA." He had pressed the knife to her throat as he spoke, and pushing it hard against the skin had felt the warm blood as it spurted out onto his hand, heard her gasp and panic as she tried to move away, but he had her tight in his grasp, and soon she stopped struggling, stopped moving away from him and he was able to carry on with his task.

The area he had chosen to kill her in was quiet, but not deserted, and that had added to the excitement, to the danger, he had known he wouldn't be found, known that he would be able to proceed just as always. He liked that he could alter things, could kill them in different ways but still end up with the same corpse. She was always dead, he should never have let her get away from him, and one day he would find her and she would die again.

. . . . . . . . . .

Jesse had got out of bed and made his way towards the living room of the beach house. The smell of coffee from the kitchen had made him change direction and now he was sitting on the deck cupping the mug between his hands trying to work out how to get his life back in line. Rae's beautiful face came up in his mind, but he pushed it away. If he thought about her too much his resolve to stay away from her crumbled, but he knew that for his own sanity they had to be apart, even though he loved her, everything that had happened which was bad could be laid at her door, and he couldn't cope with that any longer. He wished that there was a way that he could get everything together and still be able to be married to her, but he couldn't see a way for that to be, not with what he knew, not with what had happened, and he sighed deeply. Jesse knew that he had problems coping with life, he also knew that he had people who loved him enough to want to help him, but before he could let them do that he had to get himself to a stage where he could talk, coherently without panicking, fading out or just closing down all together. He looked out of the window at the sand, he would go there, he could sit and contemplate all that had happened, and know that he was safe, that no one could hurt him there.

. . . . . . . . . .

Steve and Rae had talked quietly in the kitchen for a little over an hour before Ron called out to them. He had been grateful for their thoughtfulness, and now he knew that he could at least begin to help them find their killer.

Rae had been delighted at Steve's news and, as he had expected, she had told him that under no circumstances did she expect to see him on Friday. Ron had called them just after Rae had told him about the details of Elizabeth's will and they had put both other business and pleasure to the back of their minds and begun to concentrate on the matter in hand.

"Ok. So far as I can ascertain from the notes you gave me, you have a serious problem here, but I guess you already know that." Ron looked at the two solemn faces in front of him. Rae had obviously been designated the note taker because she had a tablet of paper in front of her and was holding a pen in her left hand ready to begin writing as soon as he said anything relevant.

"Usually we would go through a profile calling the guy an UNSUB, but we have a name, so in a way he isn't an unknown subject, it doesn't help us much but it personalises him, and somehow that makes him more real, more dangerous, to me at any rate."

"Sort of like naming a lamb or a piglet and then you can't kill them for meat because they have an identity?" Rae was looking intently at Ron, wondering if she dare share what she thought about the case.

"In a way, yes, but I guess that didn't bother Hannibal Lecter or Jeffery Dahmer!"

For a moment Rae just looked at him and then realisation crossed her face and she grimaced, "At least one of those was fictional!"

Ron decided that it was probably best not to proceed with that train of thought at the moment and carried on talking. "So, our UNSUB, Dominic, I would say you have a white male, late twenties, possibly early thirties, and he is confident, very confident, outwardly at least."

"What makes you say that? I thought that most sexual killers were inadequate, loners maybe, not successful with women." Steve could see Rae taking note of all that Ron was saying and so he knew he could speak freely and still have the whole meeting recorded at the end.

"A lot of them are, but this guy dates his victims. He doesn't just attack and kill, he goes out of his way to make himself known to them, he takes them out. If Amanda is to be believed, and I wouldn't dare do anything else!" Ron paused for a moment, a smile playing across his lips. This was serious, deadly serious, but the chance to profile with two of the closest friends he had was a welcome change. "If Amanda is to be believed, then he took Nadine Browton out for a meal."

"It could have been takeout couldn't it?" Steve looked up; he had to admit to not having thought of that before.

"It could, but let's think positive. Like I said, he's confident, he wants to put his victims at their ease, these are, from what we can gather, first dates, or in the case of Jenna not really a date, just someone it appears she met on a night out. I don't think there are many women in this day and age who would agree to take out at a guy's apartment for a first meeting unless they knew him already." Ron was sure that this UNSUB was showing off his women before killing them, but he would get to that in a moment.

"He killed Jenna and Samantha at the places they were found, Nadine too, but with her the MO is different. Is that a bad thing?" Rae was glad to be able to ask her question, she was very concerned about the differences this time around.

"No, not necessarily. The way a victim is killed can be split into two parts. There is the MO and the signature. This guy's MO is that he kills with a knife; he likes young women, preferably blonde. He knocked his third victim unconscious before killing her, which shows me that if things don't go quite according to plan he is prepared to compensate, to change things a little. I don't know that he could shoot his victim, or strangle her, but if necessary he can incapacitate her before he uses his knife."

"…incapacitate before using knife." Rae looked up and smiled. "But that's not his signature is it; would the knife be part of his signature or just what he does with it?"

"Signature?" Steve was lost, and he wasn't sure why. He didn't profile very much, in fact he wasn't certain that he knew enough about it to even try, but he knew that Rae maybe, and Ron obviously, did.

"A signature is the part of the ritual of killing that the murderer can't change. So yes, the knife comes under both headings, but in this case I would say that it is the way he uses the weapon that is the signature. He takes them out, shows the world that here is a beautiful woman and she is with him, no one else, him. Then he takes them home, or tells them he is taking them home, I don't know, but instead he slits their throats, he slashes their feet, he stabs them over and over, there is the appearance of frenzy but I think that all of it is very controlled, I think he is very controlled."

"We thought that too." Steve remembered back to one of the first conversations he and Rae had had about the killings. "The first victim, although she was stabbed many times there was a definite pattern to it, we felt he was trying to portray someone out of control when he was actually totally in command of the entire situation." Maybe he knew more about this than he realised, he just didn't give it fancy names, to him it was police work, pure and simple.

"Oh yeah, I would agree with that completely." Ron nodded as he listened to Steve's words. "And there was me thinking you weren't convinced as to the use of profiling." Ron smiled as he spoke, and was amused to see Steve look confused for a moment.

"So, can you describe him to us? We need some place to start as we go through all the known sex offenders in LA, otherwise we will be here until doomsday." Rae looked up, she had read through what she had so far, and although interesting it wasn't what she wanted.

"If you are ready, yeah, I can list his personality and criminal traits as I see them, then any questions you have, or I have, we can go through that too."

For a moment the room was silent and then Ron began to speak. There was a new tone in his voice, and both Steve and Rae knew that he was speaking with the authority of someone confident in the job he was performing.

"Ok, Dominic, which may not be his real name, but that is a given I guess, he is a white male, late twenties, early thirties, charming, confident, or giving the appearance of confidence. In the end with all these guys there is an inadequacy, something that makes them kill. I would say he was well educated, maybe even right through college, he works, white collar work, maybe in an office, but I think he would want to be more on show than that. Somewhere he can meet young women that fit his criteria."

"Like a store, or maybe a cab driver something like that?" Steve looked a little thoughtful as he tried to work out what sort of jobs would fit that description.

"Maybe, he may have something to do with authority or authority figures; he could possibly be a cop, or a civilian worker, maybe even a crime scene guy."

"You're kidding." Rae looked up; she hadn't considered the likelihood of that.

"No, I'm not kidding at all. This guy wants to dominate, he wants to be in control, ultimately he wants to humiliate his victims, which is why he cuts off their hair. But he needs to be able to get to them first, get them to let their guard down. I'm not saying that he is a cop, but somehow he will have a connection to what is going on with these cases, even if it is just listening in on the police frequency, he will have to, he won't be able to help himself."

"Is there anybody in the department actually working for the good guy?" Steve picked up the cup of coffee he had brought in from the kitchen with him and took a drink. It was stone cold and he shuddered.

"I don't think he's a cop, but I want you to consider that he might be. He will need to know that you are taking his case seriously; he will want to know that he is beating you, and the system, and he will revel in the attention he is getting. He will take great care over his appearance, and he will drive a very flashy car, red probably, and quite new or, conversely, old and classic, but it will be a head turner, which is what he considers himself to be. Oh, and he will have a record, someplace he is already on file."

"How can you tell all of that from what we gave you?" The mistrust and disbelief was evident in Steve's voice, and his question came out sharply. "We have three victims, who were stabbed, mutilated and dumped, how can you possibly know what type of car he drives from that?"

"Because there is always a pattern; always." Ron didn't seem at all bothered by Steve's outburst and continued speaking calmly. "He will have most of the traits that I have mentioned, I am certain of that."

"Steve, you work to a pattern, so do I. Why should he be any different? I could profile you from your record, and if you tried you could do the same for me. Being good or bad doesn't change that, it just changes the results." Rae spoke quietly and saw the confusion on her partner's face again.

"I guess so, it just amazes me that so much can be taken from the information we have, which I thought was precious little."

Ron sat quietly for a moment or two as Steve and Rae talked between themselves. He hadn't been profiling very long but he knew that their reactions were pretty common place. He had worked at Quantico where the main profiling centre was, and had attended courses both while he had been assigned there, and since he moved to Los Angeles.

"How do we catch this guy?" Rae shifted her attention from Steve and asked the question at the forefront of her mind.

"You play to his vanity, but you scare him too." Ron smiled, in a way this was the easy bit. "You make sure that the cases get wide publicity, that there are pictures of the victims in the papers, but you or Steve give a press conference saying how close you are to getting this guy, that you have no doubt that he will be caught."

"And then what?" Steve looked doubtful again. He felt the press coverage was adding fuel to this guy's fire, and now Ron was saying that was a good thing.

"You can wait, or you can see if you can personalise it, maybe get one of the families to agree to a magazine article about what has happened to their lives since their child was killed, put the address of where she is buried in it that sort of thing."

"Why on earth would they want to do that? Their lives have been torn asunder and they are going to put themselves on show?" Steve stood up and moved over to the patio doors leading out into the garden. For a moment he was a victim again, he was waiting for word on Jo and Jesse when they had been taken and he knew with absolute certainty that he wouldn't have been able to go public in his distress.

"Steve, sit down, there is a reason for this and it's not voyeurism, at least not for us. These guys, they need the power their crimes give them. They will go to the grave or to the place where the killing took place and relive the deeds in their minds, get off on it again, get their kicks from it over and over, and sometimes that is where we step in and get them." Ron tried to reach his friend; he could see that there was inner conflict, although he wasn't sure where it was coming from or why. "Do you remember the cases in Chicago when bottles of Tylenol were laced?"

"Yeah, in the eighties, so?" Steve wasn't sure where the conversation was going, but at least they had strayed away from things that made memories he wanted to suppress rear their heads.

"So the profile on that was right, they even caught the guy they figured for a letter writing campaign at the same time, in the place the profiler suggested looking. The guy was out of town and so they said he would go to the nearest library to check the papers local to his home. They were right, and he was caught there."

"Ron, I'm not trying to disprove profiling as a science, I don't fully understand it, but I'm willing to give it a go. I know just from looking at her that Rae is convinced by what you say, and if you're right then we have way more now than we had a couple of hours ago, but …" he trailed off, not sure how to continue.

"But, you and I both know that I've got things wrong in the past, and been corrected by your dad, yeah, that's true, and in part he's why I took these courses. There has to be a pattern, to everything in life, and if we can keep that in mind then however long it takes us to solve these crimes, one day we will do just that. No one will get away with murder, not if I can help it." Ron's voice was taut with emotion, and both Rae and Steve got a little insight into what made him tick.

. . . . . . . . . .

The sand was soft and warm under his fingers, probably because the sun, even though it was a winter one, had been on it all day. Jesse felt safe here, safer than in the house, even though only good things happened at Mark's place. He needed to know how he could explain to everyone what it was he wanted. He knew that he had the power to hurt people, badly, and that scared him, but if he didn't do it then he would be the one who was hurt, and he was ashamed to admit that that scared him even more.

Jesse forced himself to think back, he could do it here, where no one could get to him, he could keep his eyes open and still have the sight of the sand and sea, the smell of the ocean and the sound of the gulls, but he could also work through his feelings, and maybe he would find a way to sort his life out without having to tell everyone his deepest and darkest thoughts.

The place they had kept him had been barren, dusty and dirty, and he had been scared almost all the time. He knew now that he had been given drugs, hallucinogenic drugs, but at the time it had all been so real. He didn't need to close his eyes to see her, or to feel the shame of the reactions he had felt, or the embarrassment when he had written that newspaper article, now though, it was impossible to rid his mind of the memories and they came pouring forth.

"Don't you like me, Jesse? You have been chosen specially, especially for me."

"Who are you?" He tried to turn but he was tied down and couldn't move his head to get a better view of who was speaking.

"My name is Ayshanta and I have been chosen for you."

"For me, why? And why can't I see you?" He felt hands then, fingers as they began to run through his hair, but still he couldn't see her. He had never had his head massaged in such a way; it was wonderful, as if she had fifteen or twenty fingers instead of ten. They made their way down around his ears, back up into his hair again and even though he didn't want to respond in any way he couldn't help himself and he called out. "Ooooh, that's great."

"I am glad you like it, on my planet it is a mating ritual." Ayshanta's voice was deep and very sexy.

"Your … your planet? I … I don't understand." But he did, suddenly he did, he had seen them come and get him, strange people, not that tall, but their heads were wide, they had come to the cabin… Steve, where was Steve? "My friend, what did you do to my friend?"

"You were alone, we made sure of that, nobody must know, we are in danger from your law enforcers, but we need you, Jesse, we need you to help us survive." He was sure he could hear tears in her voice, and for a moment the massage got a little firmer and he moved under her touch. "Oh, I am sorry, that is right, is it not, sorry?"

"Yeah, that's right, but I can understand you, I guess it's just like Star Trek, you have a universal translator, huh?"

"If I touch you, I can understand you, and you can understand me, if I move away," the air was filled with strange guttural sounds and Jesse shuddered. Suddenly he was very frightened. "No, please, come back, touch me again."

The sounds changed and Jesse relaxed. "Don't worry … my darling; is that right, my darling?"

For a moment the hesitancy was back, but what she was doing, the aroma that he suddenly noticed, they relaxed him, made him feel unthreatened and he spoke again. "Yeah, I guess so … what's that smell?" he was even more aware of the soothing and calming scent as it wafted over him, and then he felt the fingers as they moved down onto his shoulders, and began to undo his shirt.

"Hey, no, what are you doing?" His fear rose up again, but the smell increased, and he felt himself melt under her touch.

"I can take this part of you off … it is not attached?"

"No, it isn't attached." Jesse laughed, and then moaned as he felt the touch of her on his skin. "Oh, God, that's good …"

Jesse shut his mind to the thoughts, he had told Rae all about it, he should never have told. They had given him instructions, he hadn't followed them, and now everything was wrong again. But she had wanted to know, if she hadn't asked, hadn't probed, then everything would have been ok. Almost straight after she asked he had been hurt again, shot and left to die, had almost died, and then it had happened again, but the last time had been worse. He'd known, somehow Werner had known what happened that first time, had told him the same things, said that the same things would happen if he told, and he knew that he had to go back to a time when he had told no one, that way all of the bad things would disappear, and he would be just like he used to be, life would be like it used to be, and he wouldn't be scared any more.