a burn victim, and they’ll draw up toward the body.”
“Pretty damn hard to set someone on fire if they aren’t bound,” Nate observed.
She thought of the agonized dance of the victim in her dream. From its movements, at least the legs had seemed to be unfettered. But those visions might have nothing to do with this homicide. Especially if this death were related to other similar ones.
“Even if his limbs were completely secured, he could still roll, trying to put out the fire.” She nodded toward the area in question. “There’s no evidence of that. Which makes me wonder—”
The detective followed the direction of her gaze, and her thoughts. “If he were kept in place by a rope thrown over those rafters.”
“We’ll know more after the body cools down and I can examine all sides.”
Risa nodded at the ME’s words. Had the person been burned while lying down, it would be reasonable to expect the burns to be uneven. It wasn’t unusual for such victims to look relatively normal on the side pressed against the ground, where the flames had been unable to wreak their damage.
But the figure in the dream hadn’t been prone.
She looked at the detective. “How many others like this have you found?”
At first she thought he wasn’t going to respond. Instead he watched as the ME strode rapidly toward the city van, snapping out orders to her assistants. But finally he responded, “This makes the third, although it’s too soon to tell if it’s connected to the others.”
“What linked the first two?”
He shot her a grim smile as he rose. “The first victims were found in remote areas. A combination of gasoline and diesel fuel was used as an accelerant. Both had their hands bound with duct tape but not their feet. They weren’t gagged.” His frown sounded in his voice. “That’s hard for me to figure. It’s easier to control the victims if they’re completely secured. Gagging them would ensure their cries wouldn’t summon help.”
“But neither would be as satisfying.” Her voice was soft, but from the sharpness of his gaze, she knew he’d heard her. “The remote locations give a guarantee of privacy. And even if someone comes . . . by that time it will be much too late to save them.”
“You think he needs that? Their screams? But that still doesn’t explain why he wouldn’t bind their feet.”
“Maybe he needs that, too.” The death dance, she thought sickly, her eyes on the corpse once again. The frenzied movements of panic and agony. She’d felt the watcher’s ecstasy as he surveyed the spectacle. The near-orgasmic exultation from seeing what’d he’d wrought. “It might be part of his signature.”
Something shifted in the detective’s expression, leaving it impassive. “Signature. You’re a profiler, then?”
She rose, scanning the area. “All of Raiker’s investigators are trained in profiling, too.” Memory of the dream skated along the hem of her mind, and she sought to gather it in, to examine the details more closely.
That had been the last thing she’d been thinking of when she’d wakened from it this morning. Although she had art supplies in her bedroom closet, she’d gotten out of the habit of keeping an easel in her room with fresh drawing pencils and paper to sketch the visual elements.
The dreams had been gone for months. She hadn’t missed them.
And although Risa was far from accepting this one as anything more than a subconscious mind bump, it was second nature to try and wring any useful information from it that she could.
If it were the victim’s death alone that had so satisfied the watcher, a gun or knife could have been used with far less effort. Her shoulder throbbed, as if in agreement. No, his pleasure had been linked to the particular type of death he’d arranged. The flames had driven him delirious with delight, and he’d stayed as close to them as he’d dared.
Like there was an affinity there. Not just a murderer, but also one who chose fire deliberately because it satisfied a need inside him.
“It has to be death by fire,” she said finally. “And he needs to watch.” To experience it, deriving a sort of vicarious thrill from its kiss of heat on his naked flesh. One of the crime scene investigators was photographing the area. Another was sketching it. Two others appeared to be waiting for direction from McGuire. “What’d the crime scene techs turn up in the other two deaths?”
“No wallets, but IDs were left nearby.” When she turned to