“You know, I really am uncomfortable with these assumptions. We can’t assume it’s Gault.”
“It’s been almost two years, Liz. I doubt Gault got born again or has been working for the Red Cross.”
“You don’t know that he hasn’t. Bundy worked in a crisis center.”
“And God talked to the Son of Sam.”
“I can assure you God told Berkowitz nothing,” Wesley said flatly.
“My point is that maybe Gault–if it’s Gault–just cut out the bite marks this time.”
“Well, it’s true. Like in anything else, these guys get better with practice.”
“Lord, I hope this guy don’t get any better.” Mote dabbed his upper lip with a folded handkerchief.
“Are we about ready to profile this thing?” Wesley glanced around the table.
“Would you go for white male?”
“It’s a predominantly white neighborhood.”
“Absolutely.”
“Age?”
“He’s logical and that adds years on.”
“I agree. I don’t think we’re talking about a youthful offender here.”
“I’d start with twenties. Maybe late twenties.”
“I’d go with late twenties to mid-thirties.”
“He’s very organized. His weapon of choice, for example, is one he brought with him versus something he found at the scene. And it doesn’t look as if he had any trouble controlling his victim.”
“According to family members and friends, Emily wouldn’t have been hard to control. She was shy, easily frightened.”
“Plus, she had a history of being sick, in and out of doctors’ offices. She was accustomed to being compliant with adults. In other words, she pretty much did what she was told.”
“Not always.” Wesley’s face was expressionless as he perused the pages of the dead girl’s diary.
“She didn’t want her mother to know she was up at one a.m.” in bed with a flashlight. Nor does it appear she planned to tell her mother she was going to the church meeting early that Sunday afternoon. Do we know if this boy, Wren, showed up early as planned? ”
“He didn’t show until the meeting started at five.”
“What about Emily’s relationships with other boys?”
“She had typical eleven-year-old relationships. Do you love me? Circle yes or no.”
“What’s wrong with that?” Marino asked, and everybody laughed. I continued arranging photographs in front of me like tarot cards as my uneasiness grew.
The gunshot wound to the back of the head had entered the right parietal-temporal region of the skull, lacerating the dura and a branch of the middle meningeal artery. Yet there was no contusion, no subdural or epidural hematomas. Nor was there vital reaction to injuries of the genitalia.
“How many hotels are there in your area?”
“I reckon around ten. Now a couple are bed-and- breakfast places, homes where you can get a room.”
“Have you been keeping up with registered guests?”
“To tell you the truth, we hadn’t thought about that.”
“If Gaulfs in town, he’s got to be staying somewhere.” Her laboratory reports were equally perplexing: vitreous sodium level elevated to 180, potassium 58 milli equivalents per liter.
“Max, let’s start with the Travel-Eze. In fact, if you’ll do it, I’ll hit the Acorn and Apple Blossom. Might want to try the Mountaineer, too, though that’s a little farther down the road.”
“Gault’s most likely to stay in a place where he has maximum anonymity. He’s not going to want the staff noticing his coming and going.”
“Well, he’s not going to have a whole lot of choice. We don’t have nothing all that big.”
“Probably not the Red Rocker or Blackberry Inn.”
“I wouldn’t think so, but we’ll check’em out anyway.”
“What about Asheville? They must have a few large hotels.”
“They got all kinds of things since they passed liquor by the drink.”
“You thinking he took the girl to his room and killed her there?”
“No. Absolutely not.”
“You can’t hold a little kid hostage like that somewhere and not have someone notice. Like housekeeping, room service.”
“That’s why it would surprise me if Gault’s staying in a hotel. The cops started looking for Emily right after she was kidnapped. It was all over the news.”
The autopsy had been performed by Dr. James Jenrette, the medical examiner who had been called to the scene. A hospital pathologist in Asheville, Jenrette was under contract with the state to perform forensic autopsies on the rare occasion such a need might arise in the cloistered foothills of western North Carolina. His summary that “some findings were unexplained by the gunshot wound to the head” was simply not enough. I slipped off my glasses and rubbed the bridge of my nose as Benton Wesley spoke.