Survival of the Fittest by Jonathan Kellerman

simply disappear.”
    “It’s possible.”
    “Also,” said Carmeli, “he may have murdered before.” He turned to Milo. “If that’s so, why haven’t the police discovered similar crimes?”
    His voice had risen and the words tumbled out. Snubbing out the second cigarette, he used his index finger to shape the ashes on the table into a thin gray line.
    Milo said, “This may be a beginning, sir. A first crime.”
    “The killer began with my Irit?”
    “It’s possible.”
    “Why?” said Carmeli, suddenly plaintive. “Why Irit ?”
    “We don’t know yet, sir. That’s one of the reasons I’m here to—”
    “How extensively have you looked for other murders, Mr. Sturgis?”
    “Very extensively, but we’re still in the process—”
    “The process, the process—your predecessors said there’s no central crime computer in California. I was incredulous so I checked. And verified it.” Carmeli shook his head. “Absurd. Your department claims to be .   .   . Israel has a population of five million and our crime situation is much less severe than yours and we centralize our files. Excepting political incidents, we experience fewer than a hundred murders per year. That’s comparable to a busy weekend in Los Angeles, right?”
    Milo smiled. “Not quite.”
    “A bad month, then. According to the mayor’s office, Los Angeles had one thousand and four murders last year. Other American cities are even worse. Thousands and thousands of murders in this vast country. Without centralized files how can you hope to access information?”
    “It’s tough, sir. We do have some central—”
    “I know, I know, the FBI,” said Carmeli. “NCIC, various state logs, I know. But reporting procedures are slipshod and inconsistent and there’s tremendous variation from city to city.”
    Milo didn’t answer.
    “It’s chaos, isn’t it, Detective? You really don’t know if similar crimes have occurred and you’re unlikely to ever know.”
    “One thing that might help in that regard, sir, would be publicizing the crime. I understand your reluctance but—”
    “Again,” said Carmeli, clenching his jaws. “Back to me. Us. What could you possibly expect to gain by publicizing the crime other than subjecting my family to more pain and possibly endangering the children of my colleagues?”
    “Endangering them how, Mr. Carmeli?”
    “Either by inspiring the murderer to kill another Israeli child or giving someone else ideas—go after the Zionists. At that point, we would be feeding terrorist fantasies.” He shook his head again. “No, there’s no point, Mr. Sturgis. Besides, if this killer has struck before, it’s been somewhere other than Los Angeles, right?”
    “Why do you say that, Mr. Carmeli?”
    “Because surely, even with your slipshod procedures, you would have heard about it, no? Surely child murders aren’t that routine, even in Los Angeles.”
    “No murders are routine to me, sir.”
    “So you’d know if there were others, wouldn’t you?”
    “Assuming the crime was reported.”
    Carmeli squinted in confusion. “Why wouldn’t it be?”
    “Many crimes aren’t. Murders that look like accidents often aren’t.”
    “But the death of a child!” said Carmeli. “Are you telling me there are places in this city where parents wouldn’t report the death of a child?”
    “There are, sir,” said Milo, softly. “Because many child homicides are committed by parents.”
    Carmeli went white.
    Milo began to rub his face but stopped himself. “What I’m saying, sir, is that we can’t assume anything at this point, and going public could jog someone’s memory. A crime that was similar in some crucial way could emerge. Maybe years ago, maybe in another city. Because if we get good media coverage, the exposure would reach other cities. But I can also see your point about the danger. And to be honest, I can’t promise it would do any good.”
    Carmeli breathed rapidly several times and placed