to you in that basement. Warren Hoyt did things to you that would haunt any cop. He left scars, both emotional and physical. Most people would have lingering trauma. Flashbacks, nightmares. Depression.”
“The memories aren’t any fun. But I can deal with them.”
“That’s always been your way, hasn’t it? To tough it out. Never complain.”
“I bitch about things like everyone else.”
“But never about anything that would make you look weak. Or vulnerable.”
“I can’t stand whiners. I refuse to be one myself.”
“I’m not talking about whining. I’m talking about being honest enough to acknowledge you’re having problems.”
“What problems?”
“You tell me, Detective.”
“No, you tell me. Since you seem to think I’m all fucked up.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“But you think that.”
“You’re the one who used the term
fucked up
. Is that how you feel?”
“Look, I came about
that
.” She pointed to the Yeager crime scene photos. “Why are we talking about me?”
“Because when you look at these photos, all you see is Warren Hoyt. I’m just wondering why.”
“That case is closed. I’ve moved on.”
“Have you? Really?”
The question, asked so softly, made her fall silent. She resented his probing. Resented, most of all, that he’d recognized a truth she could not admit. Warren Hoyt
had
left scars. All she had to do was look down at her hands to be reminded of the damage he’d inflicted. But the worst damage was not physical. What she had lost, in that dark basement last summer, was her sense of invincibility. Her sense of confidence. Warren Hoyt had taught her how vulnerable she really was.
“I’m not here to talk about Warren Hoyt,” she said.
“Yet he’s the reason you’re here.”
“No. I’m here because I see parallels between these two killers. I’m not the only one who does. Detective Korsak sees it, too. So let’s stick to the subject, okay?”
He regarded her with a bland smile. “Okay.”
“So what about this unsub?” She tapped on the photos. “What can you tell me about him?”
Once again, Zucker focused on the image of Dr. Yeager. “Your unknown subject is obviously organized. But you already know that. He came to the scene fully prepared. The glass cutter, the stun gun, the duct tape. He managed to subdue this couple so quickly, it makes you wonder…” He glanced at her. “No chance there’s a second perp? A partner?”
“Only one set of footprints.”
“Then your boy is very efficient. And meticulous.”
“But he left his semen on the rug. He’s handed us the key to his identity. That’s one hell of a mistake.”
“Yes, it is. And he certainly knows it.”
“So why assault her right there, in the house? Why not do it later, in a safe place? If he’s organized enough to pull off a home invasion and control the husband—”
“Maybe that’s the real payoff.”
“What?”
“Think about it. Dr. Yeager sits there, bound and helpless. Forced to watch while another man takes possession of his property.”
“Property,” she repeated.
“In this unsub’s mind, that’s what the woman is. Another man’s property. Most sexual predators wouldn’t risk attacking a couple. They’d choose the lone woman, the easy target. Having a man in the picture makes it dangerous. Yet this unsub had to know there was a husband in the picture. And he came prepared to deal with him. Could it be that was part of the pleasure, part of the excitement? That he had an audience?”
An audience of one
. She looked down at the photo of Richard Yeager, slumped against the wall. Yes, that had been her immediate impression when she’d walked into the family room.
Zucker’s gaze shifted to the window. A moment passed. When he spoke again, his voice was soft and sleepy, as though the words were drifting up in a dream state.
“It’s all about power. And control. About dominance over another human being. Not just the woman, but over the
“The memories aren’t any fun. But I can deal with them.”
“That’s always been your way, hasn’t it? To tough it out. Never complain.”
“I bitch about things like everyone else.”
“But never about anything that would make you look weak. Or vulnerable.”
“I can’t stand whiners. I refuse to be one myself.”
“I’m not talking about whining. I’m talking about being honest enough to acknowledge you’re having problems.”
“What problems?”
“You tell me, Detective.”
“No, you tell me. Since you seem to think I’m all fucked up.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“But you think that.”
“You’re the one who used the term
fucked up
. Is that how you feel?”
“Look, I came about
that
.” She pointed to the Yeager crime scene photos. “Why are we talking about me?”
“Because when you look at these photos, all you see is Warren Hoyt. I’m just wondering why.”
“That case is closed. I’ve moved on.”
“Have you? Really?”
The question, asked so softly, made her fall silent. She resented his probing. Resented, most of all, that he’d recognized a truth she could not admit. Warren Hoyt
had
left scars. All she had to do was look down at her hands to be reminded of the damage he’d inflicted. But the worst damage was not physical. What she had lost, in that dark basement last summer, was her sense of invincibility. Her sense of confidence. Warren Hoyt had taught her how vulnerable she really was.
“I’m not here to talk about Warren Hoyt,” she said.
“Yet he’s the reason you’re here.”
“No. I’m here because I see parallels between these two killers. I’m not the only one who does. Detective Korsak sees it, too. So let’s stick to the subject, okay?”
He regarded her with a bland smile. “Okay.”
“So what about this unsub?” She tapped on the photos. “What can you tell me about him?”
Once again, Zucker focused on the image of Dr. Yeager. “Your unknown subject is obviously organized. But you already know that. He came to the scene fully prepared. The glass cutter, the stun gun, the duct tape. He managed to subdue this couple so quickly, it makes you wonder…” He glanced at her. “No chance there’s a second perp? A partner?”
“Only one set of footprints.”
“Then your boy is very efficient. And meticulous.”
“But he left his semen on the rug. He’s handed us the key to his identity. That’s one hell of a mistake.”
“Yes, it is. And he certainly knows it.”
“So why assault her right there, in the house? Why not do it later, in a safe place? If he’s organized enough to pull off a home invasion and control the husband—”
“Maybe that’s the real payoff.”
“What?”
“Think about it. Dr. Yeager sits there, bound and helpless. Forced to watch while another man takes possession of his property.”
“Property,” she repeated.
“In this unsub’s mind, that’s what the woman is. Another man’s property. Most sexual predators wouldn’t risk attacking a couple. They’d choose the lone woman, the easy target. Having a man in the picture makes it dangerous. Yet this unsub had to know there was a husband in the picture. And he came prepared to deal with him. Could it be that was part of the pleasure, part of the excitement? That he had an audience?”
An audience of one
. She looked down at the photo of Richard Yeager, slumped against the wall. Yes, that had been her immediate impression when she’d walked into the family room.
Zucker’s gaze shifted to the window. A moment passed. When he spoke again, his voice was soft and sleepy, as though the words were drifting up in a dream state.
“It’s all about power. And control. About dominance over another human being. Not just the woman, but over the
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