True Colors by Thea Harrison Page A

psychopaths have is what psychiatrist Hervey Cleckley referred to when he first coined the term ‘mask of sanity’ in 1941.” Gideon took a deep breath and forced himself to continue. “A lot of details from Jacksonville have never been released because the killer hasn’t yet been caught. He held the group prisoner and executed one a day. They were killed in alphabetical order.”
    He noted the moment that realization struck. She sucked in a harsh, shaking breath and looked up again. Then he couldn’t hold back any further. He strode over to take hold of her slender shoulders in a firm, reassuring grip.
    “Which is not going to happen this time,” he said strongly into her whitened face. “It’s also quite apparent that the number seven has a great deal of significance for him.”
    “It’s significant to all the Elder Races,” Alice murmured. “Seven demesnes in the U.S., seven Primal Powers or gods.”
    “The previous murders occurred in the days leading up to the Festival of the Masque,” Gideon continued. “So we think that the seven gods have some particular meaning for him. He murdered seven people in seven days. Now, seven years later, the murders have started again. He excavates seven organs from his victims—the liver, gall bladder, pancreas, the two kidneys, the spleen, and he goes up under the rib cage to remove the heart. And he places the organs in a distinct pattern, although we haven’t figured out what the significance of that is yet.”
    His hands on her shoulders were massive and warm. She gripped his forearms, and the feeling of his warm skin over solid muscle steadied her again. Her mind arrowed back to that terrible stillness in Haley’s apartment, but when she recalled the gaping dark red hole in Haley’s midsection she froze and couldn’t force herself to go any further.
    She said through gritted teeth, “I can’t see it. I don’t remember. Does he always use the same pattern?”
    He hesitated and his striking pale eyes searched her face. He said heavily, “Yeah. The heart is in the center, with the other organs set around it.”
    She frowned up at him, her mouth held so tight her lips were bloodless. “How are they positioned?”
    She could see him warring with the impulse to protect her from the details. Finally he said, “He puts the liver at twelve o’clock, spleen at six, and the gall bladder and pancreas at three and nine o’clock respectively.”
    “The four directions,” she said.
    “Excuse me?” he asked, taken aback. Her gaze was still trained on him but he didn’t think she saw him.
    “Seven gods. Seven. Four. Two.” She asked, “Where does he place the two kidneys?”
    His expression grew intent. “On either side of the liver, at the top of the circle.”
    “I know that pattern,” Alice said. “I use it all the time.”
    He stared at her. His grip on her shoulders tightened. Then he let her go and stepped back. “Show me.”
    She rushed from the kitchen. Gideon strode after her, watching her mutter to herself. She moved down the short hall and flipped on a light to the front bedroom. She had turned it into a home office, with a computer desk and chair against one wall, and a futon set in a couch position against another wall. Like Haley, Alice had pulled out boxes of Masque decorations. They were set in the middle of the floor. She dropped to her knees in front of one box and dug through it.
    “It’s a silly hobby of mine,” she said over her shoulder. “I don’t really know a lot about it. I just dabble, not like some people. Every year we hold a Winter Solstice Masque as a fundraiser for the school. I give Tarot readings—I use the Primal Tarot, of course, not any of the European decks. Those came later, around the fifteenth century, I think. The Primal Tarot is much, much older. I only know half a dozen of the most used card spreads.”
    He rubbed the back of his neck as he listened to her rapid speech. “You’re talking about fortune