Katherine had already spread out in the BPD conference room. Pinned to a glass board were the pictures of the victims so far.

Lisa, Jacqueline, Vanessa, Christy, and at the end, Nada. With everything in the same pattern. All were brunettes. And more or less voluptuously built.

Boonstra and Nick sat there with their laptops, Elizabeth with her iPad and notepad, and Jane perched at the end of the conference table.

DVDs were set up in front of Katherine. "Well, well, well," she said expectedly as she picked up a greasy case. "Guinea Pig - The Flowers of Flesh and Blood. From 1985, it should be worth quite a bit in collector's circles."

Elizabeth looked at her slowly. "Sometimes I wonder if you're even working on the right side, Kate."

Katherine looked at her, almost surprised. "Sure I do. But to understand the monsters, you must walk in their bloody shoes for a while," she said. "Anyway, charges were filed against these movies by a Hollywood actor because they thought a woman was being murdered. The filmmakers then had to show how they did it." She looked at everyone. "As my friend Michael Hames from the Obscene Publication Squat at Scotland Yard said, "Guinea Pig is fake. But it looks bloody real."

Jane rolled her eyes. "Fine. Can we get down to business, then? Liz, you said you'd run the meeting. Do you feel up to it?"

Elizabeth took a deep breath and nodded. "Yes." That was true because doing nothing would be much worse for her mental state. "First point: we have two sketches of the perpetrator. One of Viola by the sketch artist in BPD. The other is a phantom drawing by the garbage man of Samantha, Nada's friend." She tapped her iPad, and two images were projected on the wall by beamer. In both pictures, a man with greasy hair and thick glasses. The photos looked different. But if a computer superimposed the two, the man could be recognized. "What does he look like to you?"

"Squatty. Not exactly attractive. And insecure," Jane said flatly.

Elizabeth nodded with furrowed brows. "Like someone who clumsily and awkwardly gives jewelry to prostitutes, for example."

" ... And then kills them," Jane added sullenly.

"The ones who always greet so kindly are the dangerous ones," Katherine said. "Does the picture go out to all the PDs?"

Elizabeth took a deep breath. "It's already on its way. We're still sorting out whether to include the media." She looked at Nick. "Anything new on the car? The Audi80?"

Nick pressed his lips together and shook his head. "There are thousands of those in Boston, Liz. We can narrow it down to the north."

"So we're looking north."

Nick nodded. "Okay," he made a mental note.

"And the warehouse's landlord?" asked Jane to the group.

"That's where we're at. We've already threatened to play hardball as a precaution."

"And that's what we're going to do. If that guy in London doesn't move soon, we'll step on his toes with Interpol. And send the sketch along."

Nick nodded again. "Will do."

"We don't have anything new from the Red Room on the Dark Web," Boonstra said, forestalling any question. "That one's shut down. Deleted the profile from the BodyCounter. I'd do the same thing if I were him, though, if the cops busted my joint."

"Maybe the profile is just disabled," Nick said.

Boonstra gave him a long look and nodded reluctantly. "Also a possibility. But that's all we have at this point for now."

Elizabeth gritted her teeth and took a deep breath. "Let's take a look at the perp profiles. Kate, I think you had something prepared there."

"I did!" the psychiatrist said, rising from her chair like a lecturer. "There are three basic types. The macho, the loner, and the sadist."

Jane's eyebrows drew together. "The macho? Sounds harmless at first."

Katherine raised her eyebrows briefly. "But he isn't. The macho wants to wield power. And we've hunted a particularly bad one of that variety before."

"You mean the werewolf." Elizabeth and her team had hunted that killer back then with Katherine, who had cut a bloody swath through Boston.

"Yeah, the werewolf who drove a Corvette. These guys often have a good car, do bodybuilding, and want to be seen as tough. But at heart, they're insecure. They need encouragement. And when they don't get it, they become exploratory rapists. Rape several times. They see everywhere what doesn't give them enough encouragement. If their mother didn't give them enough encouragement, they look for the next best woman they remember of their mother and rape her. Completely indiscriminate and arbitrary."

Elizabeth frowned deeply. "Does this match our killer?"

Katherine hesitated a moment, then pressed her lips together. "Well, see for yourself." She smiled in anguish and pointed to the sketch images still projected on the wall. "He'll never look macho."

"So?"

"So if he does, the macho part is 10 percent. He'd like to be one, but he's not."

"Then what is he?"

"Partly a loner. The second type. He also seeks confirmation, is permanently frustrated, and is aggressive because he doesn't get this confirmation. But he's also harmless. His activities are limited to porn and masturbation. If he's courageous, he goes to a brothel. Or he looks through women's windows. Or even climbs into their apartments and steals their underwear."

Elizabeth furrowed her brows. "Maybe our killer was like that once. And then got worse?"

Katherine looked closely at her sister and nodded. "At least 40 percent of our killer belongs to the loner category.

"Then we already have 50 percent," Jane said. "Where's the remaining half?"

"With the sadist," Katherine said flatly. "Our killer strikes me as the typical sadistic killer. That Red Room alone, where he tortures people and gets paid for it, speaks volumes. The sadistic killer is the classic serial killer. The fear and suffering of his victims excite him. He indulges in fantasies of what he will do to his victims and has been doing so since puberty. These fantasies eventually turn into precise plans. His biggest fear is that reality will not be as fantastic as his fantasies. In return, he is a perfectionist whose perfectionism goes as far as pedantic. He plans the things he needs to obtain and build."

Jane straightened in her chair. "Bigger than reality?"

Katherine looked at her mother for a long moment and nodded, almost reluctantly. "Yes. I made my fantasy life more potent than my real life. That's what Jeffrey Dahmer said, and it's true. These guys are real engineers sometimes. Build some tripods or scaffolding that they hang the victims in, torture them, rape them. Such murderers, and our murderer is undoubtedly one of them, are incredibly resourceful. Some convert entire rooms into torture chambers. And, well, our murderer does the same. Just think of the kitty litter."

Jane took a deep breath and leaned back in her chair. "Good," she said, "now where do we go from here? Suppose we ever assume that the sketch images don't get an immediate hit. In that case, the Audi80 remains untraceable, and that London real estate shark can't be reached despite Interpol, or some janitor's name comes out that has nothing whatsoever to do with our killer?"

Katherine licked her lips and lowered her gaze for a second. "It was easier back then. There was a porn store in London. Whenever there was a customer who wanted kiddie porn, he usually showed it by holding his exposed hand palm down at waist level, which I guess was supposed to be the size of a child. Anyway, whenever a win customer made this sign, the porn store owner gave the customer a phone number. Call there; we don't have anything like that, but this store does."

"And there was an undercover officer on the other end?"

"Exactly. My friend Michael at OPS used to do that a lot."

"That's what the Internet is for. No one goes to grungy porn stores anymore."

Katherine looked at her mother, her husband, and, last but not least, her sister. "I know. But I learned a different thing in London."

"You mean when you turned your back on us when we needed you?" growled Elizabeth suddenly. Katherine looked at her in wonder, her eyes reflecting confusion.

Nick held his breath and made a face without breathing.

Jane gave her older daughter a long, sharp look before clearing her throat. "We're listening to you, Kate."

Katherine took a deep breath, ignoring her sister's rebuke. "As you know, a few years ago, I worked at Scotland Yard, OPS and all. That's when a film producer contacted an undercover agent. The producer had been approached by a dubious man who wanted to make an extraordinary film with two women.

"Boonstra's eyebrows drew together in interest. "A snuff movie?"

Katherine hesitated a moment, then licked her lips. "Yes. He wanted to torture two girls and film the whole thing. Essential to him that it was two so one could see what he was doing to the other before she then had her turn."

"My God," Elizabeth said.

Katherine cleared her throat and looked at her sister. "The perp contacted the investigator, who gave him tips. What he needed in his basement, how he would get rid of the bodies."

"And how?"

"There were two stocky girls. He told him that fat would make sure they burned completely."

Nick pressed his lips together. "Which isn't true. It takes two hours at 1472 Fahrenheit for the Crematorium to ensure nothing is left."

Katherine took a long look at her husband and nodded. "Yes. But the guy must have bought it. He used to meet him in a bar in King's Cross. Always in a back corner. Supposedly, he recorded everything to have evidence, wanting as little background noise as possible."

Jane pulled the corners of her mouth down. "Smart. And then?"

"They used the two girls as decoys. All secured. And just as he was about to go off, they arrested him."

Boonstra cleared his throat. "Wow. They had to have some nerve."

Katherine took another deep breath. "They did. And it's just the kind of woman we need right now." She looked at the pictures.

It was beginning to dawn on Elizabeth. "You mean one of us is posing as a whore? Hanging around there in North End, getting her gifts?"

Katherine nodded slowly. "And before she gets herself killed, we intervene."

Boonstra looked back and forth between Katherine, Elizabeth, and the pictures of the victims. "If I may say so, Detective Rizzoli, but if you were a little more portly, you'd fit the prey mold, too. Brunette and pretty --"

Nick looked at Boonstra in horror as he understood. "You're going to make Liz a decoy? Boonstra the Butcher. Nome est omen --"

Katherine's eyes grew wide.

Jane was almost jumping out of her chair. "No way!" she thundered. "Liz belongs home with her kids. And to her wife in the hospital!"

"Chief!"

"No!"

"Ma!"

"No," Jane barked clearly and unequivocally and with wide, worried eyes.

Boonstra glared at her like a whipped dog. "Then we should look internally. But it has to be a woman who has bite. Who can defend herself if need be."

Jane nodded and took a deep breath. "We have some tough women in BPD. We'll find one that fits the victim profile, preferably from the RRT. And then the son of a bitch can have some!"