The Competition - [73]

“When we get to trial,” Bailey said firmly.

We all nodded, but it was more a gesture of faith than belief.

Jenny pulled out a binder that had been lying open on the table. “I’ve been reviewing the most recent articles published on young mass killers-”

“Including your own?” Michael looked at Bailey and me. “She’s published two of the leading articles on the subject.” He saw the surprise on our faces and nodded. “Jenny’s not the world’s greatest self-promoter.”

Jenny waved him off and continued. “And if you want to know more about the celebrity stalker mentality, you might want to consult with Gavin de Becker.”

I smiled. “I know Gavin, and if you’ll pardon the irony, I’m a big fan.” Gavin de Becker was the world’s foremost authority on stalking, and he’d been incredibly helpful to me when I handled my first stalking murder shortly after I’d joined Special Trials.

“Anyway,” Jenny continued, “like the celebrity stalkers, these mass murderers study and copy each other. And, as in your case, even compete with one another.”

A wave of revulsion washed over me at the thought of this despicable “competition.” “It’s amazing to me that two psychos like this wound up finding each other.”

“I’m not sure they’re necessarily cut from the same cloth,” Michael said.

I flashed on the murder case back in the twenties involving Leopold and Loeb. Two very different personalities who’d committed a killing neither one would have done alone. They too were invested in proving their superiority. “Then you think it was the combination of two different kinds of crazy that led to this?” I asked. “That none of this would’ve happened if the two puzzle pieces hadn’t found each other?”

“I think it’s very likely,” Michael said. “But we’ll need a lot more information before we go there.”

“And we have more pressing issues right now,” Jenny said. “Rachel, I think you were already headed in this direction: I suggest we focus on the sites of other publicly notorious mass shootings as the next possible targets. I’ll compile a list for you and note those I think would be most attractive to these shooters. It will be generic since we don’t have much personal information but…”

I nodded. “It’s better than nothing.” I looked down at my half-empty cup of coffee. “You both seem very certain these guys plan to die rather than be captured.”

Jenny nodded.

“Most definitely,” Michael said.

I’d thought that was fine by me. But now, hearing that’s what they wanted, I swore to myself that I’d find a way to make sure they never got their “blaze of glory.” I wanted them caught and caged like the rabid animals they were.

46

My cell phone rang on our way back to the station. I looked at the number, then at Bailey, who was navigating the downtown traffic. “You won’t believe this. It’s Dorian.”

“She’s calling us?” Bailey’s jaw dropped. “I think the earth just started turning backward.”

As I hit talk to take the call, I whispered to Bailey, “I should tell her not to bother me.” Bailey clamped her lips together to keep from laughing.

“Knight here.”

“Tell who not to bother you?” Dorian’s familiar growl was a reassuring touch point in this Bizarro World case.

“Uh, the press, sorry. I was talking to Bailey.”

Dorian proceeded without further preamble. “I finished at the Cutter house. The ground under the bedroom window was a muddy mess. Too damp to see much of anything. But I might have something on the concrete walkway leading down the side yard and out to the street.”

“Recent shoe prints?”

“That’s what I’m hoping they are. Tell you when I know more. But I can say for sure that there’s only one set of prints. Consistent with the kid taking a powder. I know we’ve got to rule it out, but I’m not seeing any evidence of foul play.”

Not that there’d been much doubt about it, but the possibility of abduction had to be addressed. “Think you can get some idea of the shoe size?”

“That would be nice, wouldn’t it? I’ll let you know.”

“Thanks, Dor-” Dead air. She was gone. I told Bailey what she said.

“I’d guess Dorian already asked the sergeant to get some of Evan’s shoes from his parents, but I’ll call the sergeant. Make sure he remembers.”

“That reminds me, what about Logan’s folks? I know the unis have been getting what they can out of them, but maybe we should try talking to them ourselves-”

“No, kiddo, we don’t need to do anything with the Jarvises. They wouldn’t spit on us if we were on fire.” True. Telling them their son was a mass murderer hadn’t endeared us to them. “And it hasn’t just been unis. I’ve had Harrellson talk to them too. He found out Logan has cousins in Utah, but we already checked them out. No way Logan ran to them. They’d have tied him to the back of a truck and dragged him to the police station.”

“I’m glad you got Harrellson.”

“One of the few good things about this case: I get what I want.”

Harrellson was a great detective. Light on his feet for a man his size-six feet by three feet if he was an inch, which explained his penchant for suspenders-he was as smart, funny, and quick as they come, and he never missed a lick.