Fay's Six

“Why not?” Walker asked.

Lee inched closer to the body, which was about ten feet away. The medical examiner and her team were taking pictures and samples and doing all the necessary steps to ensure they had enough evidence from the crime scene before the removal of the body.

It always seemed so invasive and disrespectful and yet without exposing the victim, there could never be an answer as to why they were murdered.

“Killers do change their pattern,” Lee said. “If something happens to force their hand or that triggers them.”

“Since when are you an expert on serial killers?” Walker’s tone wasn’t combative or sarcastic. It was genuine. Neither Walker nor Lee had training in police work. They had experience in counterintelligence, espionage, and other things she’d rather not think about, but this wasn’t their strength.

It wasn’t hers either, but she’d had some training back in the day.

“I’m not. I’m just fascinated by them and watch documentaries on them and read books about them and how they were captured.” Lee continued to move closer to the victim.

Fay moved with him, but this time she watched the forensic team and how they gathered and examined potential evidence.

“I’ve got two theories. Do you want to hear them?” Lee rested his hands on his hips.

“Yes,” Fay said.

“Of course,” Walker echoed her sentiment.

“The first one is it’s Randall.” Lee held up his hand to keep her from speaking.

She should be insulted, but this time she wasn’t. She understood why Lee did it. If the tables were reversed, she’d want to finish making her point as well.

“I realize that’s the obvious choice. But sometimes the right answer is the one that’s under your nose.” Lee lowered his chin and gave this all-knowing look.

That did piss her off.

Walker must have sensed that because he laced his fingers through hers and gave her hand a good squeeze.

She kept her mouth closed.

“Go on,” Walker said.

“Randall was incarcerated for six years. He couldn’t kidnap and do whatever he did with those boys.” Lee rolled his neck. “And it might not have been killing. He could have been selling them.”

“That is a good point,” Walker said.

She had to agree.

“Two things could have happened. The buyer didn’t want the men he was bringing anymore,” Lee said.

“Wait. I need to interrupt there.” Fay waved her hand. “But if they bought the first two, why all of a sudden not the next two?”

“That I don’t have an answer for,” Lee admitted. “However, last night I was reading about various reasons why some killers no longer have that cooling-off period or change what trophies they keep and there was this one case where a man spent ten years in prison for something unrelated to his taste for murder. When he got out, his first kill was exactly like all the others. The second one came much closer than his regular pattern. When he was caught, the profiler decided his thirst was greater because he hadn’t been able to feed his compulsion. He killed six women in two months. He normally only killed two or three times a year at most. But he also changed his pattern. He became brutal.”

“I don’t mean to be rude, but can you get to the point?” Fay felt like she was back in school and listening to someone defend their dissertation. She didn’t need a lesson. She needed to understand his theory and he should be able to state that in a few sentences.

She wasn’t stupid.

She bit down on the inside of her cheek. She was a woman and he probably thought she needed a complete breakdown to understand.

“Everything in his world was different. He’d lost his job. His house. His wife. His kids wouldn’t talk to him and his friends treated him differently. It triggered something in him. That could have happened to Randall.”

Fay didn’t agree in this case. But kudos to Lee for thinking. “What’s your second theory?”

Lee rubbed the back of his neck. “That Randall kidnapped Levi and Andrew. Sold them to a human trafficking ring. Or killed them and hid the bodies as trophies somewhere. But now he’s running scared because we’ve got a copycat who changed his MO on purpose. Whoever this killer is, he likes to stick his finger up at the cops and play games and I bet he’s done this before. Probably not the same way. But it’s more about the game than the kill. He picks someone and fucks with them, for whatever reason.”

Well, fuck. Fay had to admit that almost made sense. At least the part where it was more about the game. Because this felt like someone was fucking with Sparrow. “So we need the motivation.”

Lee smiled and waggled his finger in her direction like a big kid who thought he knew all the answers. “We have one.”

“And what’s that?” she dared to ask.

“This goes back to why it could be Randall. Or it could be someone else,” Lee said.

“Oh, hell. Would you just spit it out.” Walker let out an exasperated sigh. “I always hated it when you got like this during mission planning or debriefing.”

“It’s just the way my brain works.” Lee was mildly amused. “Sparrow was the arresting officer when Randall went to prison. Her testimony helped put him away for the maximum years. He has it out for her.”

“So, what you’re saying is if this is a copycat, he knows Randall has it out for her and he’s playing off that,” Walker said. “Or he also has a beef with Sparrow and still pinging off Randall.”

All that literally hurt Fay’s brain. It was a lot to take in, and as crazy as that narration was, it actually wasn’t as far out there as it sounded.

“You think I’ve watched one too many true crime shows.” Lee folded his arms across his chest.