Chapter Four
PROFILER: HELL'S KITCHEN KILLER IS A "LONER" AND A "COWARD"
Exclusive to the Bulletin
By Karen Page
A killer, known to the police as "HK2," is on the streets of Hell's Kitchen, terrorizing and killing the women who work its streets. Gilbert Robinson, J.D., Ph.D., a retired profiler for the NYPD and a professor at The College of Criminal Justice, recently shared his insights into what makes this killer tick, in an interview with the Bulletin.
Bulletin: You've had extensive experience dealing with serial killers in your career. Do you think we're seeing one now, in Hell's Kitchen?
Robinson: That would seem to be the case. It's difficult to say definitively, because the detectives investigating the case have not released many details. Quite properly. But there do appear to be similarities which would suggest a single perpetrator, most notably, the victims all worked as prostitutes, and they all worked in the same part of the city. There are also other similarities, which I'm not at liberty to divulge.
Bulletin: Would this killer be considered a psychopath or a sociopath?
Robinson: I prefer "antisocial personality disorder," but, yes, in common parlance, he would likely be considered a psychopath or a sociopath. There are some subtle differences, but two terms are essentially interchangeable.
Bulletin: What characteristics would you be looking for in this killer?
Robinson: He – it's almost certainly a man – is probably a white man between the ages of 25 and 35, possibly as old as 40. He may be superficially charming and intelligent – think Ted Bundy – but it's all an act. He has no real interest in other people, except as objects to be manipulated to serve his own purposes. He wholly lacks empathy. His conscience, if he has one, is weak, and he's basically incapable of remorse. Aside from superficial relationships with others, he's a loner.
Bulletin: Why do these killers so often target women?
Robinson: In many cases, we find the killer is incapable of having a normal relationship with a woman. He fantasizes about women and projects his fantasies onto his victims. Paradoxically, he also hates women; on some level, he feels rage against women generally. When we interview these killers after they are apprehended, we often discover they have what a lay person might call "mommy issues."
Bulletin: When you say the killer is incapable of a relationship with a woman, do you mean he's impotent?
Robinson: Erectile dysfunction may be a factor, but I was referring to the inability to have a normal and healthy relationship with a woman in all respects, not only sexual.
Bulletin: Is it significant that the victims of the Hell's Kitchen killer have all been prostitutes?
Robinson: Unfortunately, the nature of their work makes them easy targets for someone like him. I'd say he is a coward, preying on some of the most vulnerable women in our society.
Bulletin: What advice would you give to the law enforcement officers trying to catch this criminal?
Robinson: They are often difficult to apprehend, because they're highly skilled at hiding their true nature. As I said, they can be quite intelligent, especially in the planning of their killings. The planning feeds their fantasies. Often, the killings become more frequent, as the release they get from killing lasts a shorter time. With smaller intervals between the killings, they plan less carefully and make mistakes, which may lead to their apprehension.
Bulletin: As you know, the police have a suspect in custody for one of the killings. Does he fit the profile?
Robinson: Based on what I know, his profile is not consistent with the killer's. For one thing, he appears to be in a stable marriage and has a child. But it's not unheard-of for a serial killer to have a secret life.
Bulletin: Thank you for your insights, Dr. Robinson.
Robinson: You're welcome.
Karen Page is an investigator with the Hell's Kitchen-based law firm of Nelson & Murdock and an occasional contributor to the Bulletin.
Nick Carbone slammed his phone on the table in disgust, nearly knocking over his cup of coffee. Several other customers in the coffee shop looked at him, startled. He responded with an apologetic shrug, holding out his hands, palms up. They couldn't be allowed to see his rage. "Loner"? "Coward"? "Incapable"? "Mommy issues"? He fumed as he heard the words in his head. Picking up his phone, he returned to the Bulletin's web site and tapped on the name of the reporter, Karen Page. Her bio appeared under "Contributors," along with a photo. Not bad looking. A looker, actually. But if that article was any indication, a real ball-busting bitch. Someone needed to take her down a notch, teach her to know her place. He could to do it, easy. He was getting bored with hookers, anyway. He needed to up his game. And it wouldn't hurt to change his pattern and throw the cops off.
A Google search yielded the address of the law firm where she worked, along with photos and bios of the two lawyers. Late that afternoon, Nick was slouching in the driver's seat of his SUV, parked across the street and several doors down from the brownstone that housed the offices of Nelson & Murdock. He had to wait more than an hour, but Karen finally emerged from the building, along with one of the lawyers – the blind one, Murdock. Maybe walking him home was part of the job, Nick surmised. Funny, though, it didn't look like she was leading him. They were walking side by side, holding hands. He was holding his blind man's cane, but it was folded up. They were smiling and talking to each other. Puzzled, Nick pulled out of his parking space and blended into the heavy traffic. He followed them, careful to keep a couple of vehicles between them. Not that he was worried about the blind guy spotting him. And Karen seemed to be looking only at the lawyer. What was up with that?
Five blocks from their office, Karen and the lawyer crossed the street and went into a Thai restaurant on the corner. Nick continued on his way, then spotted a car pulling out of a parking space down the block. He swooped in and claimed it, cutting off another driver who was heading for the space. He ignored the guy's blaring horn and upraised middle finger. A few minutes later, Karen and the lawyer emerged from the restaurant, each carrying a plastic bag. Halfway down the block, they went into a converted warehouse. A few minutes later, the lights went on in a top-floor apartment. Nick dashed across the street and checked the names and apartment numbers listed next to the buzzers at the entry door: "6A – Murdock." So it was the lawyer's apartment. Back in the SUV, Nick drummed his fingers against the steering wheel, expecting Karen to come out of the building any minute. But she didn't appear. Maybe she was staying for dinner, keeping him company.
An hour passed. Still no Karen. Nick's stomach was growling, and he desperately needed to take a leak. He got out of his SUV and went into a pizza place a few doors down from his parking space, where he could keep an eye on the building entrance. He chanced a quick run to the men's room, then ordered a slice and sat by the window. The lights were still on in the top floor apartment he'd pegged as the lawyer's. That must mean Karen was still there. The blind guy sure didn't need them.
Nick finished his slice, then crumpled the paper plate it had been served on and tossed it toward the trash can. It missed, but he didn't pick it up. He left the pizza place and stood in the shadow of the building next door. The colored lights of the billboard above him didn't reach where he was standing. Another hour dragged past. Nick went back to his SUV and climbed in. He grew more frustrated as the hours passed. The lights on the top floor eventually went out, but Karen still didn't leave. He finally had to acknowledge the awful truth: Karen was sleeping with the blind dude. What the fuck? Nick doubted the guy could get it up, and even if he could, he wouldn't be able to find where to put it. If Karen was fucking the guy, it must be a pity fuck. Shit. Nick was all for helping the handicapped, but this was ridiculous.
It was after midnight, but Karen couldn't sleep. She usually slept better, the nights she spent with Matt. It was knowing he was with her, safe. Her gaze went involuntarily to the scars – old and not so old – that were scattered across his torso. She stroked his hair, but he didn't stir. She shivered when she touched him, remembering their lovemaking. Sex with Matt was unlike anything she'd experienced with any other man. Of course it was. He wasn't like other men. His senses allowed him to know her in ways no other man could. When she first learned about his abilities, it was . . . disturbing. Not anymore. She smiled to herself. It wasn't only physical. There was a greater intimacy, a deeper emotional connection. Matt felt it, too. She could tell. She didn't need heightened senses for that. But it wasn't always a two-way street with him.
After months of an intimacy she once thought impossible, there were subjects that were still off limits. One of them was the woman she'd seen in his bed on that awful day during Frank's trial. Karen now knew her name: Elektra. Foggy had told her what he knew, but if she tried to talk to Matt about her, he went . . . somewhere else. And he refused to talk about the aftermath of Midland Circle, or explain fully why he let her and Foggy believe he was dead. He would only say it was a rough couple of months, and she and Foggy helped him to heal. But something vital had been missing in the man who showed up at her apartment to ask for her help against Fisk. He had told Foggy "Matt Murdock" wasn't coming back, and he almost didn't. Even after he survived the collapse of Midland Circle, they had come very close to losing Matt forever. Then there was his mother, Sister Maggie. Matt said he had forgiven her, it was Father Lantom's dying request. He even went to see her occasionally. But it broke Karen's heart to think of Matt arriving at that orphanage, believing he was alone in the world, when his mother – his mother – was there the whole time.
Foggy was right: everyone in Matt's life had abandoned him. And it was Foggy's determination not to turn his back on Matt that brought them together for their desperate fight against Fisk, and finally brought Matt back to them. "I won't abandon you, Mr. Murdock. You're stuck with me," she murmured. He rolled over and smiled sleepily. She kissed him lightly on the forehead. "Go back to sleep," she told him. She lay down beside him and finally slept.