‘I don’t think we’re dealing with the same killer this time.’
‘I don’t know what to think,’ Marino said. ‘But we got two big things in common. A torso, and it was dumped in central Virginia.
‘He’s had a varied victimology all along,’ said Wesley, wearing his surgical mask loose around his neck. ‘One black, two whites, all female, and one black male. The five in Dublin were mixed, as well. But again, all were young.’
‘So would you now expect him to choose an old woman?’ I asked him.
‘Frankly, I wouldn’t. But these people aren’t an exact science, Kay. This is somebody who does whatever the hell he feels like whenever he feels like it.’
‘The dismemberment isn’t the same, it’s not through the joints,’ I reminded them. ‘And I think she was clothed or wrapped in something.’
‘This one may have bothered him more,’ Wesley said, taking the mask off altogether and dropping it on top of the desk. ‘His urge to kill again may have been overwhelming, and she may have been easy.’ He looked at the torso. ‘So he strikes, but his M.O. shifts because the victimology has suddenly shifted, and he doesn’t really like it. He leaves her at least partially dressed or covered because raping and killing an old woman aren’t what turn him on. And he cuts off her head first so he doesn’t have to look at her.’
‘You see any sign of rape?’ Marino asked me.
‘You rarely do,’ I said. ‘I’m about to finish up here. She’ll go in the freezer like the other ones in the hope we eventually get an identification. I’ve got muscle tissue and marrow for DNA, hoping that we’ll eventually have a missing person to compare it with.’
I was discouraged, and it showed. Wesley collected his coat from the back of a door, leaving a small puddle on the floor.
‘I’d like to see the photograph sent to you over AOL,’ he said to me.
‘That doesn’t fit the M.O., either, by the way,’ I said as I began suturing the Y-incision. ‘I wasn’t sent anything in the earlier cases.’
Marino was in a hurry, as if he had somewhere else to go. ‘I’m heading out to Sussex,’ he said, walking to the door. ‘Gotta meet Lone Ranger Ring so he can give me lessons in how to investigate homicides.’
He abruptly left, and I knew the real reason why. Despite his preaching to me about marriage, my relationship with Wesley secretly bothered Marino. A part of him would always be jealous.
‘Rose can show you the photograph,’ I said to Wesley as I washed the body with hose and sponge. ‘She knows how to get into my e-mail.’
Disappointment glinted in his eyes before he could mask it. I carried the cartons of bone ends to a distant counter where they would be boiled in a weak solution of bleach, to completely deflesh and degrease them. He stayed where he was, waiting and watching until I got back. I did not want him to go, but I did not know what to do with him anymore.
‘Can’t we talk, Kay?’ he finally said. ‘I’ve hardly seen you. Not in months. I know we’re both busy, and this isn’t a good time. But . . .’
‘Benton,’ I interrupted with feeling. ‘Not here.’
‘Of course not. I’m not suggesting we talk here.’
‘It will just be more of the same.’
‘I promise it won’t.’ He checked the clock on the wall. ‘Look, it’s already late. Why don’t I just stay in town. We’ll have dinner.’
I hesitated, ambivalence bouncing from one end of my brain to the other. I was afraid to see him and afraid not to see him.
‘All right,’ I said. ‘My house at seven. I’ll throw together something. Don’t expect much.’
‘I can take you out. I don’t want you to go to any trouble.’
‘The last place I want to be right now is out in public,’ I said.
His eyes lingered on me a little longer as I labeled tags and tubes and various types of containers. The strike of his heels was sharp on tile as he left, and I heard him speak to someone as elevator doors opened in the hall. Seconds later, Wingo walked in.