We had less than twelve hours of daylight. By 7 o'clock that evening, the sun had set. I had taken a bath in very hot water, then a shower, because I'm like that. The second bag had contained men's pajamas, one size too big for me, that were crafted from the finest silk. The pajamas were also impractical; silk is not the warmest material on the planet. In his defense, he had purchased ladies' style long johns to go with them, but they were two sizes too small and wouldn't come up past my thighs. To fix this, Lucas had gone out a second time and purchased more practical pajamas. They were still men's pajamas, but they were dark red with black and grey striping and made out of heavy flannel with an insulated lining and had a matching robe that tied at my waist. I also had new snow boots that were made for Alaska and came up past my knees. I found them uncomfortable, but at least my toes wouldn't freeze off.
"Tell me about the first three," I said as we finished up dinner. We were assembled in the Marshals' conference room. Arons had been very quiet since I had gone off on him earlier. Gabriel and I had made a trip back to the motel-- me to get warm, him to check in on Michael or at least that was the excuse. The real reason was so that I could quietly and casually be reprimanded for going off on the Special Agent who was trying to be helpful.
I hadn't argued or pleaded my case. I had sat and let Gabriel tell me all the reasons I was in the wrong without saying a word. I considered it amazing personal growth because I really wanted to tell him where to shove Special Agent Arons. He rubbed me the wrong way, but that was probably just because I didn't know him or trust him or want to be around him in any way, shape, or form. I was like that with new people.
Now, we were back at the Marshals' building. My badge was clipped to the pilfered cord and hung from my neck. Which was good since my pajamas didn't have a lot of pockets. They got me some interesting looks when we returned. I guessed suit and tie was standard dress for US Marshals in Alaska. I thought they should consider themselves lucky that I had bothered to put on a bra.
"Because they don't have the expertise and precision of the last thirty-eight victims, I have doubts it's the same killer," Xavier stood up and walked to the board. "See, with victim one, there are hesitation marks. The killer does not maintain equal pressure on the blade, making some of the patches too deep and others too shallow. He comes out early in a few places and has to start again. The legs are definitely not as cleanly skinned and he seems to have issues with the kneecaps, which isn't present on any of the victims after his break."
"I've been thinking about the break," Lucas jumped in. "This kind of training would take years, not weeks. I don't know what he was doing during that time, but you aren't going to gain that much proficiency skinning deer or moose in that time frame. I'm not sure you'd gain it skinning humans in succession."
"Why kill three, then stop only to be replaced by another killer?" Arons asked.
"Partners," Lucas answered. "If they were partners, one of them might have killed the other and taken over. The one that takes over has greater skill in this department, but without his partner, he has to find a new way to hoist the bodies. Maybe that's what the break was about."
"That might explain part of it," Xavier agreed, "but not all of it. Because while I see the work of two different men, I do not see a difference in the methods, just the skill level."
"But a partner might not change his methodology," I told him.
"True," Lucas said. He looked at the board. "His victims also change. Not much, just a little. The age goes up."
"That it does," Xavier said. "The first three were all in their early twenties. The rest have been in their late twenties or early thirties with an outlier that was almost forty. And their physical appearance changes a little as well. The younger women are all less 'natural', I can't think of a better way to put that. The people that were interviewed said they wore make-up, lots of jewelry, one even had implants. The rest of the victims are plain Janes-- no make-up, no excessive jewelry, and while their clothes are name brand, they aren't two-hundred dollar jeans or eighty-dollar shirts."
"I would consider the older women to be respectable. They dress nice, but not flashy. Their jewelry is small and tasteful. And judging by the photos of their make-up collection, I'd say they wear it on special occasions, but if they wear it every day, it is very light," Lucas clarified.
"Were any of them sexually assaulted?" I asked.
"Do you read the dossiers we give you or look at the pictures?" Gabriel asked me. The others had turned to look at me. I shrugged; I wasn't going to admit that I mostly looked at the pictures.
"We aren't sure," Xavier shook his head at me. "And if you thought about it for more than about three seconds, I'm sure you'd figure that one out on your own."
I did think about it. I thought about it for more than three seconds. I frowned at him.
"Whatever answer you wanted me to come up with failed to go to seed," I told him.
"Because of the nature of the body, specifically, the torched genitalia, we don't know if they are being sexually assaulted. There is no semen present in the uterus, but that doesn't mean anything other than there was no semen left in the uterus. If he does, he uses a condom," Xavier looked at me.
I looked back for a second before turning to look at Lucas. In hindsight, I could see that my question was indeed answerable by looking at the situation for a few moments. However, I was a master at getting hung up on small details and overlooking others completely. This meant that at times I was very good at this and at other times I wasn't.
"I would guess that he doesn't," Lucas said after I had stared at him for a minute. "It seems to be more about the suffering than it does sex."
"Sadist," I said quietly.
"I don't think so," Lucas said. "Sadism implies a sexual component. This is more about control."
"We are looking for a man that needs to be in control?" I gave him a look.
"I know, it's a broad generalization that fits most people, including you," Lucas answered.
I shrugged and yawned. He was right on both accounts. Although I didn't consider myself a control freak, there were instances where everyone else would disagree.
"Are we boring you?" Arons asked.
"This part usually does bore me to some extent. I do not like sitting on my hands waiting for him to take another victim. I like to go in, guns blazing, and rescue the damsel in distress," I answered curtly.
"What exactly do you do, Marshal Cain?" Arons looked at me.
"She provides valuable information in places where we can't," Gabriel said the words slowly, as if chewing on them before spitting them out. There was a tone to his voice that told me not to press that issue. Arons was oblivious to the discouraging tone.
"But what exactly? She's bored by the investigation, doesn't understand crime scene processing, and doesn't seem to care about the victims. So, I'll ask again, what exactly is her role?" Arons pressed forward.
"Marshal Cain gives us all a sounding board. Most of us are intelligent but can't keep up with each other, we are all specialized. She is not. She can look at a problem with different eyes than us. And she has a unique perspective on serial killers," Lucas broke in, stopping Gabriel from using his sharp tongue again. "In a world where the serial killer is king and usually has an IQ that puts him over genius level, Ace levels the playing field."
"That doesn't answer the question," Arons huffed.
I stood up and walked to the white board. I pulled down all the pictures, placing the first three victims on top. I looked at Arons. The calm washed over me and I was unwilling to try to pull myself out of it. I wanted him to see just how angry I could be and just how different that anger was from anyone else's. When I got angry, it was like staring into an abyss, not a tantrum-fueled cartoon.
"When we figure out who he is, I am going to take point when we breach his lair. I am going to secure any innocents and hostages while keeping an eye out for our killer. Chances are good that if we get into a physical altercation, I am going to walk away with a few bumps and bruises, but he'll need a body bag. If he's smart, he'll surrender when I come through the door. Because that is what I do, I convince serial killers to surrender," I sat perfectly still after I finished speaking, staring at Arons.
"I love it when you're angry," Lucas stood up. "It always gives me ideas. We don't know how he is taking the ones that would normally resist, Ace suggested he uses some sort of device to keep them from struggling. Zip-cuffs wouldn't leave a mark."
"Zip-cuffs break," I answered.
"True, but most people don't know how to do it," Lucas replied.
"I like the idea," Gabriel said. "And if he is on the inside, he'd have access to all the zip-cuffs he'd want."
"Even if he isn't, he would still have access to zip-ties. They can be found anywhere," Arons finally started talking again.
"Very true," Gabriel looked at Xavier. "You seem hung up on something."
"It's the victims. I've been staring at these spots here for a few days now and I think I just figured out what they are from," Xavier started circling the marks he was talking about.
"All ears," I chimed.
"I think it's the hook end of a tanner's knife. And a tanner's knife would be sharp enough to do the work," Xavier answered.
"A tanner's knife?" Arons asked.
"A tanner's knife," Xavier repeated. "It's a very sharp blade used to separate dermis from the layers of fat under it when taking the hide from an animal. It usually has a weighted handle to keep the tanner from cutting too deep or not deep enough. Once in, it's stable as it cuts the flesh. It has a small curved tip used to puncture the skin without leaving much of a mark. In this case, I think they are mistakes made by the killer. They don't appear on any but the first three."
"Different knife?" Gabriel asked.
"I doubt it. Few things are made specifically for the task of removing flesh. A scalpel would work, but you wouldn't get the nice thick cuts that you would with a tanner's blade," Xavier looked at me.
"Don't look at me, dead animals creep me out. I know nothing about tanning," I shrugged.
"Dead people don't bother you, but dead animals do?" Lucas gave me a look. It spoke volumes. Mostly it said my lack of humanity and compassion had just shown through.
"I did not mean it quite like that," I adjusted my position. "I just meant that the process of butchering animals for food grosses me out. The same with tanning."
I stopped and sat down. I was just digging myself in deeper. I couldn't explain why animals bothered me more than people. It had something to do with the makeup of my psyche. Dead people bothered me, but I didn't eat people and for some reason, my mind made a distinction between the two. I would end up a vegetarian after a visit to a slaughterhouse. I was fine eating after a crime scene.
"Ace's mental state aside," Gabriel pressed forward. "There are probably dozens of tanneries in the area. So are we looking for a tanner?"
"The first three, I'd say yes," Xavier looked at the fourth victim. "After that, I'd say no."
"How many young men died in that four-week period?" Lucas asked.
"If I was in a team and murdered my partner, I would make sure he wasn't found," I said.
Everyone looked at me. I stared only at Lucas. He pinched his face up and frowned at me.
"You think he did something different with the body?" Lucas asked.
"I'm saying that if I was serial killer number two and I wanted complete control, I would kill serial killer number one and make sure that his body could not be found. I would chop him up and use him as bear bait or fish bait or something. I am sure there are tons of disposal methods around here," I met Lucas's gaze and held it firm.
"How would you dispose of the body?" Lucas sat down on the table, it gave a slight groan under his weight that he ignored.
"Me? I would use acid, but if I did not have access to such a thing . . .," I shrugged. "Bears would be hibernating. Most of the lakes would have been frozen over in December. There are carnivorous fish in Alaska and the food levels would be dropping along with the oxygen levels. I would go drill a hole, weight the parts, and drop them in. That would give me at least three months to make sure that the corpse was unidentifiable. I'd know the area, I'd know which lakes held things like white sturgeon. They'd make short work of it, good chance even the bones would be chewed on to some degree."
"It's late and there are extra patrols out. He hasn't grabbed a woman yet, nothing more we can do tonight. We'll go back to the hotel and get a good night's sleep and revisit everything in the morning," Gabriel stood up. "We'll be back here at eight, barring something happening during the night."
I followed everyone out to the SUV. The dashboard clock read that it was just after nine at night as we began the drive back to the hotel. It would be late in Missouri, but I had a feeling I needed a dose of humanity.
Once I was locked inside my room, I dug out my cell phone and dialed Nyleena's phone number. It rang six times before her sleepy voice came over the line.
"Are you alright?" She asked.
"Define alright?" I said back.
"Where are you?"
"Alaska, it's a bad one. I did a poor job of faking it tonight."
"The guys all know," she was starting to wake up.
"That may be, but there was another person in the room and he did not. Does not know? I'm not even sure how to word it."
"Are you feeling bad that you let it slip or that you couldn't connect?"
"Both perhaps."
"Talk to me Aislinn."
"I can't. I just needed a dose of humanity."
"My humanity?" I could hear the smile in her voice.
"I'm knee deep in dead bodies. My killer is probably out hunting at this very moment. I'm tucked safely away in my hotel room waiting for another woman to die and my only thought is, I wish he would hurry up. Another body means more clues."
"Yep, sounds like you need a dose of something. I know you want to capture him, but sometimes, waiting is all you can do. No matter how bad it is. Have you gone through the case files?"
"Yes, they were unhelpful. I think the locals are holding back from us. It would not be the first time."
"They called you in."
"Actually, no they did not. The FBI did because the agent in charge up here felt like he was also being kept out of the loop. He used a breach by a reporter to call us in. Can you believe some idiot reporter found the body before the locals?"
"That's not good."
"How was your day?"
"Knee deep in killers and trying to figure out what sort of deals could be made. I had one of your cases come across my desk today. He pled out for a life sentence in The Fortress, but he probably won't last long in there. They are moving him to the secure ward, but sometimes things happen inside that place. I imagine he will have a nasty accident or something," I knew she was talking about a child killer that we had caught a few months ago. He had molested all the boys before slicing out their tongues and removing their eyes. She was right, he wouldn't last long in The Fortress. A needle in his arm would probably be a blessing compared to what the serial killers would do to him, even in the secure ward.
"Do anything not work related?"
"I went and had dinner with your mom. She's doing good. Worried about you. She said you hadn't called in a week."
"Yeah, I rushed from one case to another. I will call her when I have a few minutes."
"You won't wake her in the dead of night then?"
"It's only 9:40 here," I smiled at the phone.
"Have you felt the calm lately?"
"Yes, but not often."
"That's good."
"I suppose."
"It is, Aislinn, it means that just because you let your humanity slip, it doesn't mean you are out of control."
"Do I really value animals more than people?"
"No, you just have a different attachment to them. If you really valued animals more than people, you'd be tracking down poachers, not serial killers. Can you imagine yourself tracking down poachers? You'd be the scariest game warden around."
"I cannot imagine being a game warden."
"I can see you as a game warden. You'd be like Ranger Smith, talking to the animals and trying to ignore the humans. You'd drive a supercharged ATV with machine gun turrets to take out multiple poachers at one time. Possibly anti-aircraft missiles to take down hunting blinds that were illegally put up."
"Would I have to wear the tacky brown uniform?" I asked.
"Everyone has to wear the tacky brown uniform, but you could liven it up with dead lichen and the pinky bones of poachers."
"Thanks, Nyleena. I needed that."
"Aislinn, you may not always be on the same level as everyone else, but your dark moments are fleeting. You aren't Malachi or the killers you track down. You do value human life, even if you don't understand the human condition as it applies to the rest of us."
"Thanks, Nyleena. Go back to sleep."
"Will do, try to sleep, Aislinn," she hung up the phone.
The conversation had lasted less than ten minutes, but I was feeling somewhat better. Perhaps I couldn't relate, but I did believe life to be sacred. It was part of what motivated me to do this job day in and day out.
I pulled out the case files to see if I could glean anything new from them.