CHAPTER TWELVE

Riley breathed slowly and let that tingling sensation build up inside her.

That feeling was, after all, perhaps her most powerful gift as an investigator.

Of course, during the last week, the crime scene had been cleaned of every drop of blood, any sign that the murder had ever happened.

Even so, Riley was beginning to visualize the whole thing.

Morse said, “According to the police—”

“I know,” Riley said, interrupting him.

She stared at the reclining chair and began to relate her impressions to Morse and Jared …

“It was night, and Julian Morse was alone enjoying some moments of quiet relaxation after his swim. Half-asleep, he didn’t hear the intruder creeping up behind him—to directly where I’m standing right now.”

Imagining herself holding a large knife, she crouched beside the chair.

“The killer leaned over and stabbed him from behind—right in the middle of his abdomen, if he had any idea what he was doing. In order to deliberately inflict multiple stab wounds, he didn’t want the knife to get stuck between the victim’s ribs.”

Riley began to act out the killer’s movements.

“He pulled the knife out, and Morse began to writhe. Morse opened his mouth to scream, but that first wound shocked him into silence. His diaphragm may have been pierced—if so, he could no longer breathe. He could only make a horrible choking sound. He began to writhe and flail his arms.”

She breathed slowly, then said …

“The killer’s adrenaline was already high, and for a moment he was alarmed by Morse’s thrashing. I don’t think …”

She paused to let the hunch sink in.

“I don’t think he’d ever killed anyone before. He may have had a flash of self-doubt. ‘Can I finish this?’ he may have wondered. Suddenly the whole thing seemed a lot more difficult than it had a few moments before.”

She felt more and more strongly what the killer must have felt …

“He rallied his will and grabbed hold of the victim somehow, probably by using his free arm to seize him from under the chin. He plunged the knife into his body again and again …”

Riley felt slightly uncertain now. She hadn’t seen the autopsy reports for either murder.

She knew that both of the victims had died from numerous knife wounds—but where had those wounds been inflicted? Just in the abdomen, or in all the surrounding areas, including legs and arms? Riley had a strong feeling that the killer had gone wild once he’d gotten started stabbing, randomly piercing the man’s body all over the place.

But what had he done with the knife?

Had he escaped with it?

That was a detail that had been left out of the news stories.

Then she remembered something Morgan Farrell had said to her over the phone as she’d stood looking at her husband’s body …

“The knife is lying right next to him.”

Riley rose to her feet and spoke aloud again …

“He dropped the knife right here beside the chair. He may have stood looking at Morse’s lifeless body, but only for a moment. Then he made his escape.”

Riley turned to look at Morse and Jared.

Morse’s face looked pale now.

He said quietly, “Well … that’s considerable more gory detail than I heard from the police.”

Riley suddenly felt awkward and self-conscious. She seldom carried out this disturbing exercise in the presence of civilians. It was hardly any surprise that Morse was shocked.

Jared let out a grim chuckle at Morse’s discomfort.

He said, “That’s because this is no ordinary cop. This is Special Agent Riley Paige of the BAU.”

Riley noticed a note of pride in Jared’s voice. He definitely seemed to be pleased with himself for working with her.

He’d better not get used to it, she thought.

Then Jared said, “But how did the killer get here in the first place?”

Riley looked up and noticed several security cameras pointing down into the pool area.

She said, “The first thing he did was disconnect the security system, including those cameras. Probably just a matter of cutting wires.”

Morse said, “Yes, that’s what the police said. Alas, Julian’s system seems to have been woefully out of date, and it was easy to disconnect. A wireless system would have served much better.”

Riley stood still and looked around the perimeter of the property. On the side nearest the pool was a wooded area. She could see a high chain-link fence there among the trees.

Riley pointed and said, “He went out over that fence, the same way he’d come in. See that branch hanging over the fence? Coming in, he climbed out onto it and dropped himself down right into this pool area.”

Jared scratched his head and asked, “But wouldn’t going back the same way be a problem?”

Riley walked toward the overhanging branch and looked at the ground under it.

“Not really,” she said. “My guess is he’s pretty agile, maybe even athletic. Look, you can see the soil is disturbed here. These indentations are from where he landed. Going out, he was probably able jump up high enough to grab hold of the branch.”

She turned again toward Morse and Jared.

Morse’s mouth was hanging open.

“Well,” he said. “This has been a … stimulating exercise in ratiocination. Is there anything else I can help you with?”

Riley took another look around. She felt as though she’d gotten as much information from the murder scene as sheer intuition would allow. To learn anything else, she’d need access to police and coroner records—and that wasn’t possible, at least not yet.

She said to Morse, “Thank you for your help. We’ll go now.”

Morse led Riley and Jared back through the house again. When they reached the front hallway, Riley stopped in her tracks when something startling caught her eye. It was something she hadn’t seen before because it was off to one side, hanging over an ornate fireplace in a formal area.

It was a full-length oil portrait of a beautiful woman of indeterminate age. She was standing in an elegant strapless gown with one hand resting on an expensive-looking period table. She was buxom and curvaceous, but her figure was not what most struck Riley.

It was the expression in her eyes.

It reminded her of someone—and it only took a second for Riley to realize who that person was.

She’d seen that expression in Morgan Farrell’s face.

The portrait artist had skillfully caught that look of helplessness.