The malignant narcissist will gain higher levels of satisfaction from his crimes over the course of time, driving him to commit more and worsening offenses, while weakening his impulse control. We’ve seen that escalation in this series of crimes. Our UNSUB is a sadist, always has been, but that doesn’t mean he feels no remorse. In part, the returns to his base paraphilia, the underwear fetishism, are an attempt to mollify his growing sadistic sexual needs. He may hope he can regain control of his desires. It’s a sign he may have been frightened by the extremes he’s reached. That’s one possibility.”
“What’s the other?”
Rainey ventured into feel it in her gut territory, and despite her recent battles with self-doubt, she was sure she was correct about this UNSUB.
“There are some power issues at work here. While you patrolled the streets, he was able to enter homes seemingly at will, even with all the warnings to the public. That’s powerful foreplay for a sadist. He also used the burglaries for surveillance and to stay sharp, keeping boredom at bay, until the perfect victim for his next phase of sadism could be found and followed. These types of killers are incredibly patient. He waited until the fantasy was most likely to come true before he took Kaitlyn Whitaker.”
“That makes sense,” the young detective replied, “but you didn’t explain how you know he took the Whitaker girl.”
“The task force has decided to keep that information confidential at this time, and I agree it is best for all concerned.”
An anonymous voice called out, “Do you think she’s still alive?”
Rainey knew the likelihood of Kaitlyn Whitaker living longer than twenty-four hours after the UNSUB took her were slim. Unless he completely switched gears, he couldn’t wait much longer than that to kill her. She was a means to an end, his sexual gratification. When he was done with her, he tossed her body and started the hunt for his next victim.
Rainey said none of that, and instead answered, “We can hope that she is still alive and investigate accordingly.”
She realized her time was running short and quickly made her final points.
“I’m going to close with some suggestions as you continue with your investigation. The UNSUB is on foot. He’s in great shape, according to the victims. Running trails and woodlands surround the crime scenes. This guy is a runner.”
Rainey turned to Sheila, who resumed her place at the podium. The remainder of this presentation, they would do together.
Sheila explained the next steps in the investigation. “The task force has recommended we pick up more checkpoints on the trails. We will continue to stop and question runners, only with more frequency. In your packet, you see the make and model of a shoe consistent with a print found at several of the crime scenes. This shoe is a favorite with off-trail runners. We will have people in the woods around the trails too. Make note of anyone with this type of shoe or someone that fits other aspects of the profile. We’ll also be asking for voluntary searches of any bags runners may be carrying.”
Rainey joined in, “When you interview the UNSUB he will have a runner’s bag or vest that he will happily hand over for inspection. The items it contains can be harmlessly explained away. In addition to water and protein bars, he will have a camera. He’ll show you some great nature shots if you ask. He’ll have a survival bracelet, maybe more than one, made of paracord, which we know he uses for bindings due to trace evidence left at several scenes. He will have a multi-function tool, like a Leatherman, and a flashlight large enough to be used as a weapon. He’ll have a beanie and a neck gaiter he uses to cover his head and face, leaving only his eyes visible to his victims. He’ll have a roll of athletic tape and large cotton bandages he uses to blindfold the women. He’ll have zip ties, and I’m sure a creative reason for their use. We know he also has lock picks, but he probably conceals them on his person rather than in his bag. He will be carrying a smartphone, and he may have something that looks like a garage opener.”
“Garage opener?” The question came from somewhere in the middle of the room.
Shelia answered, “He is using an app on his phone or another device to disable wireless security systems and cameras before entering the property. Our UNSUB is also very computer savvy.”
Rainey completed the profile, “He’s better than average looking, intelligent, and socially adept. He’ll have a college degree or two, based on his vocabulary and the literary discussion he had with Glena Sweet, who is an English professor and his third rape victim. He’s at least upper middle class economically and has a good job where he is in a position of leadership. He has an exceptional relationship with his wife or girlfriend. His car, his house, his lawn will all be well maintained. He’s not a joiner though, so you won’t find him in running clubs. His acquaintances will say he’s sometimes quiet, a bit of a confident introvert, but he’s a great guy. He will be delighted to help any way he can during the interview.”
Sheila held up her copy of the packet given to everyone in the room. “Rainey’s comprehensive profile is included in the information we gave you, along with the UNSUB’s physical description. Please make sure the personnel assigned to the trails are aware of details contained in this literature.” She turned to Rainey. “Is there anything else you would like to add?”
Rainey looked out at the faces in the room. “When you have a suspect, there is a list in the packet of items you’ll want to name in the search warrants. He’ll have security measures on his computer, so make sure the tech guys are the ones to handle that evidence. He’ll probably have a removable hard drive or two. Any audio-visual recording devices should be seized. He’ll have a private place where he can be alone with his trophies, and that is where he probably has Kaitlyn Whitaker. He’ll have items to restock his rape kit. You’ll also find documentation of each of his crimes and victims. There will probably be a journal detailing his fantasies, whether a physical document or a file you'll find on his computer. You’ll find the pictures he takes of the victims and newspaper clippings about his crimes. And as with almost every single one of these guys I’ve studied, he will have an extensive sadomasochistic porn collection. Good hunting. You’ll find him, I have no doubt.”
“Thank you, Rainey,” Sheila said, shaking her hand.
“You are welcome. Call me if you need anything.”
The room began to fill with movement.
Sheila asked for attention. “Wait, we are not finished. We’re going to let Rainey go, but we need to discuss the positioning and staffing of the checkpoints.”
Rainey headed for the exit. Wendy stood and followed her out.
#
Once in the hallway, Wendy asked, “You don’t think Kaitlyn Whitaker is still alive, do you?”
“Why would you say that?”
Wendy grinned. “Answers a question with a question—definite sign of deception.”
“Analyzing my behavior after only one complete semester of grad school. You must be a very bright girl,” Rainey teased, but still didn’t answer the question.
“You were quibbling when you said ‘we can hope that she is still alive and investigate accordingly.’ I can tell when you’re lying or at least being evasive. Call it familial insight. Why didn’t you tell them they are looking for a body?”
“The same reason they let rescue dogs find a live victim, even if they have to plant one, so they can feel good about finding the dead ones. Just like the dogs, those cops know to look for a body, but they can still hope for a live find. I can’t take away the prospect that Kaitlyn Whitaker is still waiting to be found. This UNSUB is changing. Maybe his fantasy is now to keep a woman.”
“But you don’t believe that,” Wendy said, not letting up.
Wendy’s career goal was to follow in Rainey’s footsteps to Quantico and the BAU. She should know the horror show to which she wished to buy a ticket. Pressed for an answer, Rainey pulled Wendy to the side of the wide hallway and spoke in hushed tones.
“The probability that Kaitlyn survived twenty-four hours is essentially zero. She was his first long-term guest. He had a fantasy planned out, but he rushed it in his excitement. He’s done that with every escalating phase until he mastered each element of his crimes. It's also important to note Kaitlyn was introverted and inexperienced sexually. These guys watch hours of porn with victims portrayed by skilled porn actresses, filling deviant fantasies with unrealistic expectations. It probably didn’t go as planned because she had no clue what was happening to her.”
Wendy interjected, “So, she didn’t follow his script.”
“Right,” Rainey said. “The terror would have been real enough, but the degraded ‘bitch’ he was looking for, was probably a scared, checked out, childlike mess. He got what he could out of her and then killed her, which were probably his most satisfying moments and the most terror-filled for Kaitlyn. Her death, however, did not end the assault. He spent time posing and photographing her dead body. She became the ultimate objectified woman, dehumanized, and available to his whims. As horrible as all that sounds, it opens a window of opportunity in the investigation because he’s added a new element, body disposal. He could make a mistake. He’s transporting live victims and dead bodies for the first time.”
“This is one sick ass dude.”
Rainey laughed. “Do me a favor. Don’t ever put that as your analysis in any official documents or term papers, Officer King.”
Wendy laughed with her, and Rainey couldn’t help but notice the family resemblance in the sound. Rainey knew of Wendy’s existence only after the two met face to face for the first time, almost two years ago. Nearly a year went by before Rainey finally broached the subject of their kinship. She spent a few sleepless nights, wondering how to tell Wendy the truth and whether she should. She was already part of Rainey and Katie's family life by then. The anxiety had been unnecessary. When she finally sat her half-sister down to have the talk about Billy Bell’s dalliance with Rex King’s wife, it came as no surprise to the younger woman.
“Dad spilled his guts on the way home from the emergency room the night I met you. He said I was bound to find out. There were a few tears from Mom and some sort of explanation. I never knew Billy Bell, so no big deal. Rex is my dad, flaws and all, no genetics required. You and I share some DNA, quite a bit from the looks of things, so I guess we should give this sister thing a shot.”
“Well, okay then,” had been Rainey’s response. There was nothing else to say.
Wendy was busy being a young woman with a social life, a new cop, and a graduate student in Criminology. Somehow, she found the time to be the cool aunt, hang out with the big girls on poker nights, and sometimes be the nuisance little sisters are supposed to be to older siblings.
Rainey had thought herself an only child for forty-three years, so the sibling thing was new to her. She watched Katie and her high-strung clan for sisterhood clues, ignored most of what she saw in that drama, and found it took no effort to spend time with Wendy. Despite growing up in separate homes, they were both Billy Bell’s daughters, and as Katie often noted, seemed cut from the same cloth.
Katie would shake her head when Wendy and Rainey had identical simultaneous reactions to a basketball game or shared a facial expression.
“That Billy Bell had some dominant genes. You two could never deny the blood relation. Bookends. You’re bookends.”
It was a new and enjoyable experience, this big sister thing, until the day a cop asked Rainey if she was Officer Wendy King’s mother. She was old enough, of course, if she had the girl at twenty, but it wasn’t a comfortable realization to live with. Besides, the cop was insinuating she had slept with Rex King, the only father Wendy ever knew, and someone Rainey loathed. She had to start telling people Wendy was her sister to stifle even the slightest supposition there might be another reason for their uncanny resemblance. Rainey also warned Wendy that being in her life was not the safest place to be.
With the mischievous smile of youth, Wendy had replied, “Yes, but it’s certainly never dull.”
Now, Rainey stood with her little sister as the task force briefing ended. The hallway filled with a swarm of law enforcement officers.
Wendy finally got around to why she was there. “Hey, do you have a couple of hours free this afternoon?”
“I was headed home to give Katie a break. With me leaving in the morning, she’ll be on her own.”
Wendy was prepared for that answer. “Katie isn’t alone. Her mom is there, and Grandpa John should be there any minute.”
Grandpa John was Dr. John Herndon, Rainey’s stepfather and doting grandfather to the triplets. A heart surgeon by trade, he’d been keeping a close eye on his grandchildren during the stomach virus episode.
Whatever Wendy wanted Rainey to do, it must have been important because she added quickly, “I talked to Katie, and she said you could go with me. Supper is at six, so you’re all clear until then.”
“You have permission from my wife to take me where, may I ask?” Rainey said with a grin.
“I have some kids I want you to listen to. They have a story I’m not sure I believe, but I’d like a second opinion.”
Rainey stopped smiling. “Is this an open investigation? You know I can’t be involved without an invitation from the investigating jurisdiction.”
“It’s not official. I’m looking for a kid who ran away. I used to babysit him when I was in high school. He was just a baby then. He’s sixteen now. His dad is a prick, and his mom is a traumatized useless fundamentalist, who keeps praying to God for a miracle and standing by her man.”
“You know that thing you said about knowing when I was evading the truth? It works both ways,” Rainey said, prodding Wendy for a more honest answer.
Wendy’s shoulders dropped, her plot foiled.
“Okay, look,” she began, “there is an official missing person report on this kid, but nobody is looking. He’s gay, so I started asking around in places homeless LGBT teens hang out. I heard these stories, almost identical experiences, from some of the boys. I don’t want to say too much. I want you to hear it from them.”