“Cutting it close,” Tucker commented, holding the meeting room door open for Elliot.
Elliot was not late and that comment was rich coming from a guy who believed punctuality meant arriving two minutes before the curtain rose—or sometimes before it fell—but Elliot restrained himself to a curt “Traffic.”
They had first met as agents in the Seattle field office nearly three years earlier, and had reconnected over the Sculptor case, so in a way Elliot’s involvement in this phase of the investigation was bringing things full circle. But some kinds of synchronicity you could do without. Certainly in Tucker’s opinion.
He was a big guy. A guy you noticed. Big shoulders, big chest, powerful arms and legs. Big but not fat. There was no extra bit of anything on his large-boned frame, unless you counted the freckles. He wore expensive tailored suits that emphasized his size and authority—today’s number was a black Versace two-button notch-lapel jacket perfectly complemented by a gray silk tie and crisp white shirt. Very striking with his red hair and dark blue eyes.
Those union-blue eyes met Elliot’s, but Tucker said nothing.
Elliot got it. Even sympathized. This was Tucker’s party and Elliot was pretty much the out-of-towner visiting cousin your mom insisted you invite to the festivities. As far as Tucker was concerned, Elliot was part of the task force because Special Agent in Charge Theresa Montgomery wanted him there. Period.
As far as Elliot was concerned, he didn’t have much of a choice.
He returned the nods and murmurs of greeting as he took a place at the long conference table. Everyone else was ready to go, files lying open on the mahogany table as they surreptitiously checked their phone messages. A photographic portrait of J. Edgar Hoover stared stoically down on the proceedings.
“Water, Professor Mills?” Special Agent Yamiguchi inquired.
“Thanks.”
Yamiguchi poured water into a clear plastic cup and pushed it Elliot’s way.
Tucker’s second was young—midtwenties—and looked even younger. Her hair was cut in a classic bob and she was built like a girl gymnast. Like Tucker, Yamiguchi did not believe a civilian—even if that civilian was a former special agent—belonged in the middle of this high-profile case. Tucker’s reasons, at least on the record, were personal; he and Elliot were romantically involved now. He worried about Elliot and he worried about the potential stress on their relationship.
Yamiguchi just worried about the case. She did not trust Elliot to not mess up the investigation. And maybe in her shoes Elliot would have felt the same.
All the same, he hadn’t forced his way in. The request had come from the top. And deciding to join the task force hadn’t been an easy call. Especially knowing Tucker’s feelings on the matter.
In addition to the feebs and Tacoma PD, the multiagency task force included reps from King’s County Sheriff’s Department, Black Diamond Police Chief Caleb Woll and Pierce County Prosecutor John Marquessi. A full house, and, judging by the electricity in the air, an uneasy one.
Elliot took that to mean Yamiguchi—or possibly Pine—had already dropped Corian’s bombshell.
Tucker let the door swing shut, took his place at the head of the table and said, “Let’s get started.”
Marquessi said flatly, “I think everything is moot until we hear Professor Mills’s report on his meeting with Corian.”
A battery of eyes turned his way. Elliot said, “I take it you’ve all heard that Corian is now hinting he had an accomplice?”
“Is that a credible claim?”
“No. Not possible,” Yamiguchi answered for Elliot.
“Agreed.” That was Pine. “But.” At the inquiring looks, he said reluctantly, “I think we still have to follow up on it as we would any lead.”
“What lead?” Yamiguchi again. “We all know Corian threw that out there as a distraction. Smoke and mirrors. This is a tactic to once more postpone his trial date.”
Elliot said, “I think he’s hoping to use it as a bargaining chip, yes. But—”
“Respectfully, Professor Mills, you’re not a profiler, psychiatrist or psychologist.”
And they were off and running. Elliot sighed inwardly, but kept his tone neutral. “I don’t have to be to understand that there has to be a practical application to Corian’s uncharacteristic cooperativeness.”
Yamiguchi opened her mouth, but Marquessi was faster. “Do we have the tape? Some kind of recording? Can we see this interview for ourselves?”
“Yep.” Tucker rose and turned down the lights.
Funny how in a room full of people the only fragrance that registered on Elliot was Tucker’s aftershave. A sexy blend of leather, white wood, cinnamon, and something exotic and citrusy.
The interview was surprisingly short. Elliot had felt like he was locked up with Corian for hours, but in fact the meeting had barely reached the twenty-minute mark. There were more silences than he recalled. And the steady, cold way Corian watched him—while it had not bothered him at the time—raised the hair on his neck.
“That is...disturbing,” Marquessi said as Tucker turned on the lights again. To Elliot, he said, “He’s implying exactly what when he says you understand the possibilities and precedents?”
“Endocannibalism? Exocannibalism? It’s difficult to say because we don’t have any real profile of Corian. He’s that rare exception to the rule: the criminal who doesn’t want to talk about himself and his exploits. If you’re asking whether he implied some kind of ritualistic consuming of at least part of his victims, the answer is yes.”
Marquessi sank back in his chair. “Jesus Christ.”
Detective Pine had been eating what looked like a very stale doughnut. He set it down abruptly and brushed away the sugar sprinkling over his paperwork.
“Again, respectfully, that’s your best guess as a nonprofessional,” Yamiguchi said.
“Correct.” Elliot’s gaze flicked to Tucker, who continued to watch him steadily, without emotion.
“The papers are going to love this,” Marquessi said bitterly.
“The papers aren’t going to know anything about it,” Tucker said. “Not at this juncture anyway. We’ll be withholding this information from anyone outside the task force.”
“He’s threatening you,” Chief Woll said to Elliot. He was in his forties. A career cop. Nice-looking. Personable. Capable. Somehow he’d managed to live down the scandal of a serial killer living right under his nose. He’d probably remain police chief of his small community until he finally decided to retire twenty years from now.
Elliot nodded. “In his own playful way, yeah.”
Tucker said in a flat voice, “Kelli, why don’t you and Pine each give us your assessment of the interview?”
Yamiguchi was brisk and to the point. Her conclusion: “I believe this is simply a grudge match playing out between Corian and Professor Mills. I don’t think Corian is looking for anything beyond access to Mills—Professor Mills,” she instantly corrected. Yamiguchi didn’t want him in their case, but she did not forget that Elliot was the domestic partner of her boss. She rarely failed to insert one of those terse “respectfullys” each time she challenged him. “He’s feeding off your reactions. The fact that you don’t give him any just makes him push harder to try and get a response. That’s why we have the final threat as you were walking out.”
She was right about that last bit; Elliot knew his coolness irked Corian, goaded him into wanting to smash through and throttle Elliot. But that didn’t mean Corian wasn’t telling the truth. Oddly, now that he’d seen the interview, Elliot was starting to worry that Corian had been telling the truth.
Tucker was nodding. Yamiguchi’s views supported his own theory. “Detective Pine?”
“I think Agent Yamiguchi is right about Corian wanting access to Mills. But.” Pine looked almost apologetic.
“But?” at least four people at the table asked in chorus.
“The fact that he’s saying these things to get at Mills doesn’t mean they’re not true. The fact of the matter is we are missing body parts and we’ve previously considered the fact that Corian might not have worked alone.”
“Considered and dismissed,” Yamiguchi said.
“Is there any evidence that Corian could have had an accomplice?” That was from the King’s County Sheriff’s Department deputy. Elliot had already forgotten his name. In his late fifties, he was the elder statesman in the room. Tall and rangy with a thick head of iron-gray hair and a handlebar mustache like an Old West gunslinger. “Do we have anything but theories?”
“No,” Pine said. “No evidence whatsoever.”
Woll said, “He’s got something up his sleeve. Or thinks he does.”
Marquessi said to Elliot, “I appreciate what you’re doing here, but it is possible your presence in this case is complicating an already complicated situation.”
“It’s also possible we know more now than we did when I walked in there this afternoon,” Elliot said.
Tucker threw him a quick, grim look.
“Fair enough.” Marquessi said to the room at large, “If Professor Mills is correct and there is an accomplice—” Elliot started to point out he hadn’t made his own mind up on that question, but then let Marquessi continue unchallenged “—how does that help Corian now? Is he planning to bargain for his life by giving up—or pretending to go through the motions of giving up—the accomplice?”
Washington’s death penalty was on moratorium but in practical terms that meant if someone was sentenced to death and a change in the political climate occurred, he’d be back on the chopping block.
No one seemed to have an answer.
Yamiguchi said finally, “Assuming there really is another player, this could be something as simple as spite. Not wanting to go down alone.”
Marquessi said, “Is there any indication that the murders have continued?”
Pine said, “No. But young men frequently go missing. I’m not sure we can count too much on our ability to spot a pattern this early in the game or to interpret a pattern if it already exists.”
The longer Elliot listened, the more convinced he was that it would be better to talk to Tucker privately about his trip to Corian’s former dwelling. And since Tucker was not bringing up the subject, he probably agreed.
Not that there was much to tell. The fact that Corian had had a gardener and that gardener had somehow spooked one of his neighbors didn’t mean much.
“If, for the sake of argument, there is an accomplice,” Elliot said, “he might not have the initiative, strength or know-how to continue without Corian. That doesn’t mean he couldn’t eventually get up to speed.”
“Again, respectfully,” Yamiguchi began, “You’re not BAU. Your background was civil rights violations and domestic terrorism.”
The Behavioral Analysis Unit was the real-life inspiration for all those crime shows featuring intrepid profilers who flew around the country at the drop of a hat to join in on serial killer cases. In real life it didn’t work like that. Members of the BAU rarely left Quantico, with the exception of a few legendary figures like Unit Chief Sam Kennedy.
“I didn’t know that. Is that true?” Marquessi asked, concerned once more.
“Yes,” Tucker said. “That is true.”
It was true, but Tucker knew that Elliot had been cross-trained to handle violent crime. The Bureau continued to be fanatical about cross-training when it came to the basics, and violent crime was always going to be one of the basics.
Besides, it wasn’t like the fight over civil rights couldn’t get dangerous and deadly. Elliot absently rubbed his knee.
“Yeah, but he’s right,” Pine interrupted. It clearly pained him. “Mills is right. Even I know that much about serial killers. They evolve over time. If there’s an accomplice, he might have been a—an apprentice. An acol-whateveryoucallit. He might be looking to hook up with a new partner.”
“Or he might have closed up shop never to be heard from again,” Tucker said. “If this unsub ever existed, there’s a good chance he’s left the vicinity. Personally, I don’t buy the story of a secret accomplice. I think Kelli called it right. Corian’s intent is to engage with Professor Mills. And I agree with Mills that Corian could be hoping to use this gambit as a bargaining chip in getting the death penalty taken off the table.”
“No way in hell is that going to happen,” Marquessi said.
Tucker said, “The question is how does this affect our court case? Where do we go from here?”
“First, I think there’s a legitimate question regarding Professor Mills’s continued involvement,” Yamiguchi said. “Especially after the threat made against him today.”
“Agreed,” Tucker said.
Did they rehearse or were they just naturally simpatico? The two-teaming was not a surprise, but still irritating given how much airtime this particular topic had already received between Elliot and Tucker. He gave Tucker a steady look, which Tucker ignored.
“It’s too late to pull Mills,” Pine said. “That’s my opinion. If there’s any chance at all that Corian is telling the truth, we need to hear what he has to say.”
“Professor Mills is two years out of the field. He’s not an analyst and he doesn’t have a background in criminal psychology. We’re setting him an impossible task by asking him to interpret Corian’s behavior. We risk derailing our court case by test-driving Corian’s psychotic attachment to a civilian consultant.”
Once again Tucker’s blue gaze met Elliot. Not in challenge. No. That look was all steel resolve, and Elliot understood where Tucker was going with this. He hadn’t been able to dissuade SAC Montgomery from insisting Elliot be part of the task force, but if he could get consensus from the rest of the task force that Elliot’s involvement was jeopardizing the case, even a micromanager like Montgomery would back down.
Elliot said, “Well, you keep trotting out the BAU. According to Unit Chief Sam Kennedy, if the objective is to get Corian to talk, you give him someone he can talk to. And right now, that’s me. Correct?”
Tucker didn’t answer. They both knew it was correct. They both knew calling on the BAU had been Tucker’s Hail Mary pass to try to come up with legitimate and impersonal grounds for keeping Elliot out of the case.
Pine said, “Corian wants Mills. Mills is the only person he’s talked to, besides his lawyer, since the night of his arrest. We need that channel of communication open. Especially if there’s another player out there.”
“We can use that,” Marquessi said. “We can use Professor Mills as leverage. If Corian wants access to him—and that seems to be the consensus—he has to play ball. Otherwise, no contact with Mills.”
Elliot could already predict the problems with that scenario, but before he could respond, Chief Woll said, “I think this is Mills’s call. He knows Corian as—better than anyone else in this room. And he’s the one who has to go in there and get him to talk.” His green eyes met Elliot’s. It was a funny look. Almost commiserating.
Deputy Sheriff...whatever the hell his name was—Damon? Dannon? Something like that—said, “I think our first priority is getting all the information we can out of Corian before his lawyer shuts him up again. Which is exactly what’s liable to happen the minute he gets wind of this.”
“That’s for damn sure,” Pine said. “I can’t believe we slipped Mills in this time.”
Yamiguchi looked at Tucker. Tucker looked at Marquessi.
Marquessi shrugged. “I bow to the collective expertise here. If Professor Mills is willing to go back into the lion’s den, I’m not going to object.”
Tucker turned his blue gaze on Elliot. “Up to you.”
“I’m in,” Elliot said.