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Face of Death
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Zoe waited for Shelley to finish her call, tying up loose ends, discussing the latest body. All kinds of thoughts raced through Zoe’s mind, calculations and flashes of the prior crime scenes, things linking up and making so much more sense. She saw distances between scenes, diminishing in distance each time, painting the picture that she should have seen all along.
Shelley put the phone back in its cradle and moved back to the fax machine, seemingly unaware of the epiphany that had overwhelmed Zoe for the long minutes since she had seen it.
“I have it,” Zoe breathed at last to get her attention, staring at the map in a mixture of wonder and horror. “I know where he is going to strike next.”
“What?” Shelley looked up, abandoning her attempt to marshal all of the pieces of paper that had finally stopped coming through the fax machine. “But I didn’t even tell you the rest of the details yet. What if this isn’t one of his?”
“It is his,” Zoe said.
“But it’s a man—that breaks his profile. Most killers don’t break gender or race lines. They target one thing and one thing only.”
“Shelley.” Zoe turned, gestured to the chairs. “I know they tell you all of that stuff in training. The statistics, the general rules that killers move by. But believe me—this is his. I can see his pattern now. Let me explain it.”
Shelley sat, her eyes wide, her arms folded on the desk in front of her. She looked totally nonplussed, though whether at the fact that Zoe finally had the answers or at the way she had spoken to her, Zoe couldn’t tell.
“We are dealing with a schizophrenic,” Zoe began, standing in front of her, presentation-style. “I believe he will have a precise form of schizophrenia known as apophenia.”
Shelley opened her notebook and wrote that down. “What does apophenia mean?”
“An apophenic is someone who is obsessed with patterns. When they are suffering from a delusional episode, they may feel that the patterns are speaking to them or that they are a sign left by a higher power. They see two things and create a connection between them, when there really is nothing there to see.”
“So, for example…” Shelley chewed on the end of her pen, frowning as she thought. “If I was saying out loud that I didn’t know what to do with my life, and I saw an advertising billboard immediately afterward that said ‘Visit Nashville,’ I would think that God was telling me to go to Nashville.”
“Good example. Except that with schizophrenics, this can go much further. They latch onto signs and patterns, and they become truly obsessed. Their lives become dedicated to these patterns. They might stand on a train track and wait for an encroaching train because the pattern told them to.”
“Or they might kill someone.” Shelley’s voice was soft and quiet.
Zoe paused, giving Shelley a moment’s respectful silence as she had noted others doing in serious situations, then nodded. “We thought for all of this time that he was cleaning up his crime scenes to prevent us from tracing him, that he was an accomplished and educated killer, someone who had enough knowhow to stop us from catching him. If I am right, that may well have been simply a lucky side effect of his need to keep the pattern intact. He erases himself, any marks left behind that could distort the pattern. That is all.”
“So, you know what his pattern is?”
“I do.” Zoe moved over to the map, indicating the red pins. “Look. If you follow them around in chronological order, we clearly have the beginnings of a spiral. A perfect spiral, in fact, modeled on the Fibonacci spiral.”
Shelley furrowed her brow. “That’s… hold on, let me try and remember. Something to do with nature, ratios in nature?”
“Correct. It is a series of numbers which define the ratios of many naturally occurring things. We see it in the shells of snails, the way petals grow on flowers, weather formations such as hurricanes. Almost everything, actually. To an apophenic, it might as well be catnip. The perfect obsession, because it really is everywhere.”
“But that means he has to keep killing, in order to finish the spiral.”
Zoe pulled out three new pins, pushing them into the precise points on the map where the spiral should be completed. “Three times. One of which will be tonight.”
“And those are the locations.” Shelley slipped her pen into her mouth, chewing the end of it. Her eyes were flicking backward and forward between Zoe and the map, as if she were trying to find some secret hidden message of her own.
“We need to put out alerts, and get a team together to stake out tonight’s location.”
“Wait,” Shelley said, shaking her head. “Are you… sure about this? I mean, you’ve moved some of the pins. And we’ve got no real clue about who the killer is, let alone whether or not he has any psychological problems. We’re going to mobilize half a state’s worth of law enforcement professionals on one location, based on the fact that there may be a spiral pattern? What if he’s just circling around his home, going out to a new location every night and getting closer because he’s getting cockier?”
Zoe had to admit, the way Shelley described it made sense. This wasn’t a television show, when the arrogant yet genius agent could pull all of the Bureau’s resources to track down a simple hunch. They needed proof, tangible evidence, and failing that, a strong sense of possibility. Much stronger than guesswork.
But it wasn’t guesswork. It was just hard to convince someone of that when you weren’t able to explain to them exactly how you knew what you knew.
“He would still move in the same direction.”
Shelley shrugged, her shoulders lifting up and down as if weighted by a heavy burden. “I’m sorry, Z. I know you have more experience than me. But I just don’t understand how you got from that map to being so sure about where he’ll strike next. Maybe you can explain it to me? It might help me get better at this. Next time, I might be able to spot the pattern.”
Zoe shook her head sharply. There was no point. Even if she explained every little thing that she could see, clear as day on the map, Shelley would never be able to get there on her own. Zoe couldn’t teach the kind of skill that she had. It wasn’t born of experience. It was something she could just do—had been able to do since she was able to think.
“I cannot explain it any clearer than I already have.”
A frown creased Shelley’s features, and Zoe braced herself. Here it came. The inevitable breaking point of any partnership she had ever had since joining the FBI. Shelley would get mad. She would argue and try to discourage Zoe from following the right path. When Zoe turned out to be right, she would accuse her of somehow colluding with the murderer. Of being involved in some way herself, or hiding evidence that would have allowed anyone else to come to the same conclusion.
She would shout and scream, call their boss and ask for a transfer. And just like that, Zoe would be given a new partner again.
It was a shame. She had been starting to really like Shelley. They had gotten along all right until now, hadn’t they? But no matter how Zoe tried to interact with her partners, give them what they seemed to want, it always turned out the same. She didn’t know how to calm their suspicions and stop the shouting. The truth wouldn’t cut it.
Might as well get it over with. Zoe picked up a ruler and pen and began to draw straight lines that intersected between all of the red pushpins on the map. One by one she connected them, laying ink over the lines that were already visible in her mind. Then she put down the ruler and drew a freehand spiral that connected line to line, as perfect a Fibonacci as she could do without mathematical drawing devices.
“Can you see it now?” she asked, pushing three red pins into the last remaining locations. “Look. I am right about this. You have to trust me.”
Zoe turned and met Shelley’s gaze. The other woman’s face was set not in the anger or frustration that she expected, but more of an awed confusion. She could see the pattern, that much was clear. But she still didn’t understand how Zoe had gotten there, and she never would.
“We have the same data, don’t we?” Shelley asked, softly. “I can’t see it in all of this. I can see it on the map now, but I don’t know how you got there. How did you know that those pins would form a perfect shape with those lines?”
“I am not hiding any information from you,” Zoe snapped. She was tired of this already, wanted it over. Wanted Shelley to just shut up and let them alert the local authorities, get people in place for a stakeout. They were wasting valuable time. “We have to act now. Do not argue with me.”
Shelley stood, and Zoe almost flinched, ready for the confrontation to ramp up. She could not show weakness, not now. She had to maintain the confidence, use her position as the senior agent. It went against everything she told herself to do in normal situations, but lives were at stake. She clamped her lips together in a firm, straight line, determined not to bend.
Shelley moved in front of her, sat down on the edge of the table. “Z… it’s okay,” she said. “I’m not trying to fight with you. I just want to understand.”
Zoe said nothing. Inside, however, her resolve flickered. No one had ever reacted this way. Whenever she revealed any hint of her gift—or her curse, whichever it was—she was treated with suspicion and accusation. Not this. Not the open, soft expression Shelley was giving her, the quiet voice, the words of encouragement.
“You can see something I can’t, somehow, can’t you?” Shelley took a breath, then reached out to touch Zoe’s arm. “I was warned by the Chief that you’d had a lot of different partners before. That they called you things—made accusations. I’m not here to do that. You can tell me, and I’m not going to demand a transfer. I like working with you.”
Zoe hesitated, looking down at where Shelley’s warm hand rested on her arm. A gesture of comfort. There was something motherly about it. Not that Zoe had real experience of how a mother was supposed to act, but she could guess that this would be it. Like the mothers on television in old sitcoms, reaching out an olive branch to their confused and frustrated teenagers.
Maybe it was the comparison, making her feel young and defenseless again. Maybe it was just the fact that Shelley sounded genuine, as if she really would accept Zoe, warts and all. Or maybe it was simply the almost-symmetrical lines on her face, the reassuring angles and axes that Zoe saw in numbers all over her skin. But whatever it was, something made Zoe open her mouth and speak.
“I have a condition,” she began. “It means that I see things… differently.”
“Differently, how? Like… apophenia?” From any other person, it might have sounded like an accusation. Zoe would have expected them to want to send her away to a psych ward, get her taken out of the Bureau. But Shelley was only seeking to understand, without judgment.
“Not quite. The patterns I see are—real. It is not just patterns, though they are a part of it. I see the world in numbers. I can tell you the distance between markers on the map without measuring it, the degree of angles between them. From there, the pattern follows.”
“What else can you see?” Shelley’s tone was one of wonder and excitement. Positive emotions, Zoe felt sure. Not the negativity she usually heard. Even still, she braced herself for a sudden switch, a smile transformed into anger and resentment. Even as she carried on.
“Everything,” she said, gesturing around helplessly. It was difficult to explain it all fully to someone who had never experienced it. Like trying to explain what it was like to see in color to someone who only saw black and white. “I know the number of millimeters that prevent your face from being exactly symmetrical. I count the chairs and desks in the briefing room the moment I enter, instantly. I can read footprints in the sand and know the height, weight, and running pace of the suspect. A knife wound tells me the dimensions of the blade. I see the numbers in everything.”
Shelley was silent for a moment, digesting it all. Zoe wanted to close her eyes. This was it—the moment when Shelley turned on her. It was coming now, the calm before the storm.
“Wow,” Shelley breathed. “Z, that’s amazing. You have a serious gift.”
Zoe blinked.
“I mean, this is amazing. No wonder you’re so good at catching people. With such a good solve rate, I wondered how you couldn’t keep partners. I thought you had to be arrogant or something, but this?” Shelley shook her head, a smile bursting and lighting up her face. “With a gift like this, you can do so much. Save so many people.”
Zoe reached for a chair and sat down, winded. “You are not angry with me?”
Shelley half-laughed, reaching to touch her arm again. “No, Z. Why would I be angry?” A moment passed, and there was a flicker across Shelley’s expression, something that Zoe could not read. “Oh. Because—because you’ve been made to feel like you’re… different? In a bad way?”
Zoe studied her own hands, lowering her head. “My mother said it was a gift from the devil.”
“That isn’t true,” Shelley said. “I know it isn’t. Jesus, no wonder you don’t like Christians. I mean—excuse my word choice.”
Zoe had to laugh, even if it was a small and quiet one.
The tension in the room was gone, and Shelley was looking up at the map with a renewed understanding. “We have to get on this right away,” she said. “You’re the only person who can possibly understand how the killer thinks. Once we explain it at the briefing, everyone will be on board.”
Zoe’s head snapped up sharply. “You cannot tell anyone,” she said. “Not about me. It is between us, as partners. No one else can know.”
Shelley hesitated, but caught Zoe’s eye and nodded.
“Promise me,” Zoe said.
Shelley wet her lips before answering. “I promise. It will take some thought to present this in a way that makes sense without people knowing what you can see, but I won’t say anything. So long as you promise me something, too.”
“What is it?”
“Not to keep anything from me. If you can see something, tell me,” Shelley said. She shook her head, although there was still a smile on her face. “I just thought about the guy we caught the other day, in the desert. How you knew where he was going to be, and everyone thought you were wrong. You could see it, couldn’t you?”
“Plain as day.” Zoe took a deep breath. “All right. I promise that I will tell you everything from now on, in relation to our investigations.”
The clarification was necessary. Zoe didn’t want to promise to tell Shelley literally everything. That would have been too much.
“Shake on it, partner?” Shelley held out her hand with a twinkle in her eyes.
Zoe shook, and the deal was done.
“Now, let’s get some more precise maps, and we can start figuring out the exact coordinates where we need to keep watch,” Shelley said, getting up and moving toward the computer already.
***
Zoe finished the last line over an hour later, taking her ruler away and examining her handiwork. It was clean and precise, just the way she needed it to be. Not a single mistake. Zoe had always been good at precision. It wasn’t so hard, when you could already see the lines and angles and calculations laid out on the page for you, before you put them down in ink.
“Right,” Shelley said, standing back. “They’re all lined up exactly.”
They stood for a moment to take in the maps of the three Midwest states that the killer had already targeted, placed in precise relation to one another across all of the tables they had been able to find and push together. These maps were much clearer. They were able to differentiate more clearly the precise locations of each kill, rather than a wider point that took in other buildings and roads.
Zoe lifted the sheets of tracing paper she had managed to find in the desk of one of the sheriff’s deputies, who was apparently a bit of a craft enthusiast. Over it, Zoe had been drawing a perfect grid of squares with her trusty ruler, while Shelley printed and stuck the map pages together. Now, she laid the grid over the top of the map, making sure that the points each lined up with the murder locations.
She took a pen in a different color and drew the spiral again, connecting the kill sites in chronological order. She did not really need the grid to know where the line had to flow, but it was there for Shelley’s benefit.
“Here, we can see that our killer is operating in a reverse Fibonacci spiral, starting from the furthest point and working his way down,” Zoe said as she drew. “Now, watch. The spiral moves across the grid in a predictable manner, so we can work out precisely where it will finish. It passes through these points—here, here, and here.”
Zoe drew a circle around each of the last three locations needed to finish the job.
“He started wide to try and avoid running into suspicion for as long as possible,” Shelley guessed, her fingers tracing the first murder sites. “With Kansas, Nebraska, and Missouri involved, it was going to take a while for the states to work together. And it did. Four murders before we even got here, and one since. He must have suspected that we would track him down quickly once we saw that the murders were all connected.”
“Even though he is careful to remove traces of himself, and even though the locations are free from surveillance, there was always a chance that he would be seen in some way,” Zoe agreed. “His car could have been identified on the road. Spreading wide at the beginning and then focusing down was the best way to give himself a chance of getting it all done.”
“But now he will be operating in a much smaller area. Which is good news for us.”
“And the locations will be even more precise. We will be able to narrow it down perfectly.”
Shelley pressed the tracing paper down, ensuring she could read through it. “The next kill site is a roadside attraction… what does that say? I think some kind of fair. Then we have a little town circled—oh, no, that one will be so much easier for him! And then it looks like the last one is just… open ground? Nothing there in particular.”
Zoe followed Shelley’s discoveries, thinking. “We only have to stop him once. We stake out the fair tonight. It is not about where the body will be left, but where the actual killing will be done. We have to catch him in the act.”
“That’s not going to be easy,” Shelley said, playing with her pendant, worrying it back and forth around her neck.
“We still have to try,” Zoe said. “Get him tonight, before he strikes the town. I will call the Kansas state police chief and organize a briefing. We have to mobilize now.”
***
Zoe watched the assembled twenty-four men and women with a twitchy feeling of anticipation. Her mind was working in overdrive, scanning them for details. The full two centimeters that one trooper’s moustache grew over the edge of his lips. The youngest trooper in the room, at twenty-one, and the oldest easily in his mid-forties. The way that societal hierarchy had granted the chief of police a chair at the front of the room in the very center, while those keen for promotions ensured to sit as close to him as possible.
“We believe that the killer will be targeting this location next: the Kansas Giant Dinosaur Fair,” Shelley announced, standing in front of the map they had blown up for the briefing. “I’m sure those of you who are local are familiar with it, but in summary, it’s a permanent roadside attraction with around twenty giant dinosaur statues. Around these are a number of carnival games, food stalls, memorabilia stands, and so forth.”
“The bad news,” Zoe said, taking over, “is that tonight is a special Family Night event. The fair will be running a number of special features, as well as a discounted entry fee for groups of three or more. This means there will likely be a high number of people in attendance, making our jobs that much harder.”
“Why don’t we shut down the fair?” one of the local troopers asked, raising his hand.
“We do not want to spook him,” Zoe replied. “Remember that he will not just be planning to strike tonight in this location, but also at other locations in the future, judging by his track record thus far. If we stop him from killing tonight, we save a life. But if we catch him tonight, we stop him from killing ever again.”
Shelley took over. “We have a little information to go on, which should make it easier to track down our man. We’ll focus on the parking lot, as we know what kind of car we’re looking for. It’s an older-model green sedan, with likely with out-of-state license plates. To be sure, we will be tracking all sedans fitting the description and watching the drivers. We are looking for a male suspect, likely traveling alone.”
“What if he’s changed his car?” This time from another trooper.
“We have no reason to believe he knows we have identified his car,” Shelley said. “Besides which, that’s our only lead. We don’t know what he looks like in any particular, even down to his race. We have no living witnesses. We have to focus on the car by dint of having nothing else to go on.”
“How do you want us deployed?” asked the chief of police.
“We will need to avoid suspicion,” Zoe said, moving the map aside to show a diagram of the attraction and its parking lot. “This man is a habitual killer, which means he will kill again if he is not stopped tonight. We cannot risk spooking him. If he runs, there is no guarantee that we will find him again. Myself, Special Agent Rose, and eight further state troopers will take the parking lot, in plain clothes. Ten of you will walk through the fair and blend with the rest of the attendees, looking for any suspicious behavior. The rest of you will wait in unmarked cars at these locations, here and here, further down the road. Your task will be to form a cordon if he manages to leave the parking lot.”
“Any questions?” Shelley scanned the assembled police, her gaze moving from face to face.
One arm shot up in the back.
“I went to the Giant Dinosaur Fair last year. It’s open all day long. How do we know he isn’t already there?”
Zoe looked at Shelley, who looked back.
“We had best get moving,” Zoe said, grabbing her jacket from the back of the briefing room. “Chief, please alert your contacts at the fair as we drive. Get them searching now. We will need to sweep the parking lot for existing cars when we arrive. He could already be there—may already have his victim. We move fast, and we move now.”
