The following day, Elizabeth and Katherine sat in the conference room with Brooks and Williams, and Elizabeth had organized fresh doughnuts. After taking the two men from New York to the hotel for two hours to rest and freshen up, she had gone to Maggie's office and delivered the DNA sample they had brought from the previous cases to her wife - perhaps the all-important sample that most likely came from the killer they were after, having been found at all nine crime scenes in L.A. and New York.

It would take Maggie and her team all day and all night to do the analysis. Until the results were in, it was a matter of waiting. Talk. Finding out what Brooks and Williams thought of the current case, although that was just coffee guesswork until there were results.

First, they talked about their jobs and then made small talk. They also brought up the current case. The murdered stone thrower and the Body Broker.

"In your opinion, are serial killers a modern phenomenon?" Elizabeth wanted to know and had never spoken to her sister's mentors besides Claire Galloway. "Some say they've been around since the Middle Ages," she said.

"Well, that's a matter of definition and source," Ted Williams replied. "Mass murderers have existed throughout the ages. But serial killers, as we understand them, have only been around for a hundred and forty years."

Elizabeth's eyebrows drew together. "Why?"

"It's because the environment is becoming more complex and difficult. Because of increasing urbanization. With the growing anonymity. Because of modernity, people can't cope with it anymore. Edgar Allen Poe describes the anonymity of the big city in a story called The Man of the Crowd."

"This man is the type and element of deep crime," murmured Katherine, who knew the story.

Williams took a long look at his former student. "Your training sure did something! But it's the same with serial killers: they associate killing with an element of control and subjugation of the other person, often combined with sexual fantasies. Moreover, this happens practically only in peacetime because, in war, they can live out their inclinations undisturbed. Significantly, no serial killers appeared on the scene during the First and Second World Wars. Another thing is important: The typical murderer kills people from his circle of acquaintances. Serial killers, however, kill people they don't know. Thus, anyone can become a potential victim. You just have to fit the killer's selection criteria."

No new serial killers emerged during the war, Elizabeth Williams repeated the words in her mind. Something told her that this information could be helpful. But why? To whom? And how? Then the thought was gone, and she continued listening to the conversation.

"The first known serial killer as we understand it today was Jack the Ripper," Williams explained.

"He cut off body parts of victims, too, didn't he," Katherine said with furrowed brows. "I mean, similar to our killer cutting out the heart and taking it?"

"Yes," Williams said, nodding. "I talked to Devin Barnes, intelligence director at Scottland Yard. Jack the Ripper, or James Maybrick if that was his name, cut off his victim's nose and ears and put them on the face of the corpse. And the blood that spurted as he slashed the women reminded him of an ejaculation."

Katherine flipped through her files, frowning. "Sexually motivated killers don't target the heart, though. Murdering and taking body parts equals total possession and total control of the victim for the killer. But the heart as a trophy comes into its own more in a different context, doesn't it?" She considered for a moment, then looked at Brooks. "Is there a sexual component to Angel of Death, then?"

Brooks pulled the corners of his mouth down and shrugged. "Doesn't seem that way to me. We do know, though, that Baldwin was ruthless. Or is. We thought he was a man without pain at first. You know - those people who just don't feel pain. They bite their lips as children when their first teeth come in. They slide across the asphalt on their knees until their skin is in shreds, and the other kids stand there frozen in shock, mouths agape. They scratch themselves so violently at night that the bedclothes are full of blood in the morning. It's a horror trip for the parents."

Williams spoke up. "Let's move on to victimology. Do we know if the perpetrator knew the victims?"

"No," Katherine replied with a shake of her head.

"And what is the risk of becoming his victim?"

"Oddly enough, very high among people who are usually strong enough not to become a victim," she said.

"Or just about," Elizabeth added.

Williams looked at the detective long and hard. "Are there any commonalities in the setting, time, and place?" What he listed were what the FBI called Crime Scene Indicators.

Katherine raised her eyebrows briefly. "It seems to happen mostly at night, at the victims' homes. It's possible the stone thrower was an exception."

"Exception to what?" retorted Elizabeth, looking at her sister. "We only have two homicides so far."

Katherine nodded slowly and looked at her mentor. "Yes, here in Boston. But in Los Angeles, it was almost always influential men, wasn't it? People with power and usually money. Lots of money."

Williams nodded slowly. "Yes. None of them were typical high-risk victims that serial killers usually target. Prostitutes, junkies, bums, and people who are too unimportant to be missed."

"And in all cases, it was dark at the scene," Brooks added. "The rooms were darkened, the blinds were down, and things like that."

"That was the case with us, too," Elizabeth explained. "With Stephen Foreman, the biker boss, and in the shed where he got this Cody Wilkins."

"So you've got one victim matching the description exactly and a second victim?" asked Williams, his eyebrows drawn together.

Elizabeth and Katherine nodded simultaneously.

"How long was the perpetrator at the scene? Do you know?"

Elizabeth gave him a long look. "No, we can't say for sure."

"He took the heart in both cases?"

Katherine nodded with her lips pressed together.

Brooks eyed her warily. "Just like back in L.A. and New York. And only one perpetrator here, too?"

Katherine took a deep breath and sat up straight in her chair. "That's the big question. If we go by Stephen Foreman, it seems to be only one perpetrator."

"Organized or disorganized?"

Katherine gritted her teeth. "Organized. He does use brute force at the scene, but no more than necessary. We suspect the ecstasy comes at his home, wherever that may be."

"If he has the other guy's heart, you mean?" asked Williams with a frown. "What does he do with it?"

Elizabeth eyed the two profilers, who looked almost as if they were engaged in a highly complicated chess game. "Well," she said now that her sister had fallen silent, "in Foreman's apartment, it seems to have gotten the better of him. That's when he bit into the victim's heart."

Williams nodded slowly and took a deep breath. "What kind of weapon did he use?"

Now it was Katherine who gritted her teeth again. "A knife. A big hunting knife, which Rambo carries around in the movies."

Williams looked at her for a long moment. "Does he leave it at the scene?"

"No. He also apparently used a scalpel."

Brooks raised his eyebrows. "He has different knives and never had them in L.A. and New York."

Elizabeth looked at her sister, who had become unusually quiet. "According to the M.E., the cuts on Foreman and on Wilkins are the same in the chest area and these bizarre incisions. However, in the abdominal area of Wilkins, he used a scalpel."

Williams crossed his arms in front of his chest. "Again, that speaks to the possibility of two different perpetrators."

Brooks made a face. "Two of that kind? That's all we need."

Williams ignored Brooks' interjection. "Is he leaving clues?"

Elizabeth looked again at her unusually silent sister, then nodded hesitantly. "We found numerous DNA traces, and only the DNA isn't stored anywhere. Dr. Ross, our Chief ME, will be in touch as soon as she has analyzed the DNA you brought back from Quantico, and she will match it with the DNA we found here. Then we'll know more."

High hopes rested on the DNA sample Brooks and Williams had brought with them. Because if the DNA from L.A. and New York and that from the Boston crime scene were identical, it meant nothing less than that the Angel of Death was still out there, even though Kenneth Baldwin had been convicted as the perpetrator years ago.

Elizabeth glanced at the report. Dozens of DNA traces had been found at both crime scenes. At Medic Research, BPD had run a saliva test on the doctors so the DNA traces on the arms could be clearly narrowed down.

In any case, they all knew this killer would continue. Unless someone stopped him or killed him.

Serial killers cannot be rehabilitated because no one can erase or change their perverted fantasies.

"I still don't understand this guy's motive," Williams said, "whether it was back in New York and Los Angeles or here now. Take the following case: a man kills his wife because he wants to get her life insurance. He then sets fire to her room to obliterate the crime scene. The motive: financial gain and personal reasons - he wants to get rid of his wife. Other murderers look for victims without a choice. Torture and kill them. And feel stronger as a result. Because they know that they will win in the end because they have made the victim defenseless beforehand. And they all take care not to leave any traces, whether they succeed. But here?" He pinched his lips together and frowned. "This man messes with the strongest opponents, even though it might get him himself. He doesn't take money with him. He runs headlong into the wall every time and is also extremely careless. Like he can afford it."

Nick stuck his head in the room. "Sorry if I'm interrupting --"

"What's up?" asked Elizabeth.

"We have a confession."

"From the Body Broker?"

"No, from Osama bin Laden." Nick screwed up his face. "Man, of course, from the Body Broker. Best come on down."