A Profiler's Case for Seduction - By Carla Cassidy Page 0,6

sideways to tap his index finger on the second photograph. “Next victim is David Reed, with a note card that labeled him a cheater. He was a sports writer, known to be a playboy. He had a drug problem and was into the illegal sports betting scene. Although he was married to Eliza Harvey, we know that he was having affairs at the time of his murder.”

“I definitely would have killed him if he were my husband,” Lori Delaney quipped, making the other agents laugh.

They quickly sobered as Mark continued. “Eliza was our number-one suspect until she was cleared, which brings us to victim number three, Senator John Merris, who was labeled as a thief by the card the killer left on his body. We all know now that the good senator was a nasty piece of work who siphoned millions of dollars from the Dawson Exploration Oil Company and padded his own bank account at the same time he put hundreds of people out of work.”

“It’s almost like our killer did the world a big favor,” Agent Donald Thompson muttered, under his breath but loud enough for everyone in the room to hear.

“They were all dirtbags, but they were still murdered,” Lori replied. “And I want this killer brought to justice.” She was an intense young agent with dark hair and eyes. Mark knew this was the biggest case she’d worked on in her short career.

“All three men were killed within a twenty-four-hour period of time and each of them had been strangled or suffocated,” Mark continued. “As we know, what few leads we’ve managed to get have led us nowhere. There is no question that these men were all killed by the same person or persons, and strangulation is a particularly intimate form of killing, but we have yet to tie these three victims to any one person to make a connection.”

“We’re working on it,” Agent Larry Albright replied with a weariness Mark knew the whole team felt. So far this had been one of the most frustrating cases Mark had worked. He couldn’t get a handle on the killer, none of them could even agree on a specific motive.

Certainly the three dead men all had their share of unsavory secrets, but murder usually uncovered secrets of one sort or another. Nobody was exactly what they portrayed to the outside world.

So far their investigation had run in all directions, focusing on enemies a state senator might have, and who might hate a playboy cheater and, finally, why somebody would kill a dirty sheriff. Each of these people could have faced the consequences of their crimes in a courtroom, but instead the ultimate judgment had been meted out by an unknown person or persons.

The FBI had no idea specifically where the men had been killed, only that, within a twenty-four-hour period, each of them had been strangled and buried in shallow graves on private land adjoining the college campus.

Mark knew the other men and woman on his team were leaning toward a vigilante scenario...one or two people getting rid of the dishonest, the disloyal and the mendacious in one single twenty-four-hour killing spree.

He finished up going over the particulars of what they already knew and what they needed to know, and the group of agents dispersed and left the room. The only one remaining, as Mark began to set up video equipment, was the senior agent Richard Sinclair.

Agent Sinclair was the oldest on the team, a veteran who had seen all the ugly that the world had to offer in his many years in the bureau. He was also the person Mark felt closest to on the team.

“Going to view them again?” Richard asked as he once again sank down at a chair at the table.

“And again and again,” Mark replied. He set the video screen so that both he and Richard could watch the “movies” about to play. After loading the DVD into the recorder, he took a seat next to Richard, the remote control in his hand.

“You know that most of the others think you’re crazy about this,” Richard said, his voice deep and full yet holding no judgment. “They believe you’ve become obsessed and refuse to see reality.”

“I know, and that’s okay. I’m just following my instincts. If I’m wrong then all I’ve wasted is my own time. There are plenty of others to do the rest of the investigative work. I’ve got to follow through on my gut, right or wrong.” He turned to look