voice. French. So glad to hear from you. Been such a long time. How are you? No, they hadn’t talked to Gabrielle in several weeks. No, that wasn’t unusual. Young people, so busy. Is anything wrong? Assurances. Promises to visit soon.
Now what? I didn’t know any of Gabby’s current friends.
Ryan?
No. He’s not your guardian. Anyway, what would you tell him?
Slow down. Think. I got a Diet Coke. Was I overreacting? I returned to the guest room and reexamined the sketch. Overreacting? Hell, I was underreacting. I checked a number, reached for the phone, and dialed.
“Y’allo.”
“Hey, J.S. Tempe.” I struggled to keep my voice steady.
“My God. Two calls in one week. Admit it. You can’t stay away from me.”
“It’s been over a week.”
“Anything under a month I interpret as irresistible attraction. What’s up?”
“J.S., I . . .”
He caught the tremor in my voice and his demeanor changed, the flipness replaced by genuine concern.
“Are you okay, Tempe? What is it?”
“It’s these cases I talked to you about last week.”
“What’s happened? I profiled the guy right away. Hope they realize that was your influence. Did they get my report?”
“Yes. You made the difference, actually. They’ve decided to form a task force. That part’s moving right along.”
I wasn’t sure how to broach my anxiety about Gabby, didn’t want to abuse our friendship.
“Could I ask you a few more questions? There’s something else I’m concerned about, and I really don’t know wh—”
“Why do you even ask, Brennan? Fire away.”
Where to begin? I should have made a list. My head was like Gabby’s room, thoughts and images scattered haphazardly.
“This is something else.”
“Yes. You said that.”
“I guess I’m interested in what you call nuisance sexual offenders?”
“Okay.”
“Would that include things like following someone, calling her, but not doing anything overtly threatening?”
“It could.”
Start with the sketch.
“You told me last time that violent offenders often make records? Like tapes and drawings?”
“Right.”
“Do nuisance offenders?”
“Do they what?”
“Make sketches and things.”
“They might.”
“Can the content of a drawing indicate the level of violence someone is capable of?”
“Not necessarily. For one person drawing could be a release valve, a way of acting out without actually engaging in violence. For another, it could be the trigger that sets him off. Or a reenactment of what he’s already done.”
Great.
“I found a drawing of a woman with her stomach slit and her guts spread out around her. What does that suggest?”
“The Venus de Milo has no arms. G.I. Joe has no dick. What does that mean? Art? Censorship? Sexual deviance? Tough call when seen in a vacuum.”
Silence. What should I tell him?
“Did this drawing come from the St. Jacques gallery?” he asked.
“No.” I found it in my guest room trash. “You said offenders often escalate to higher and higher levels of violence, right?”
“Yeah. At first they might just engage in peeping, or obscene phone calls. Some stay with that, others move on to bigger challenges: self-exposure, stalking, even breaking and entering. For still others that’s not enough; they progress to rape and even murder.”
“So some sexual sadists might not actually be violent?”
“There you go with the sexual sadist business again. But in answer to your question, yes. Some of these guys play out their fantasies in other ways. Some use inanimate objects, or animals, some find consenting partners.”
“Consenting partners?”
“A compliant partner, someone who’ll permit whatever it is the fantasy requires. Subordination, humiliation, even pain. Could be a wife, a girlfriend, someone he pays.”
“A prostitute?”
“Sure. Most prostitutes will do some role playing, within limits.”
“That can defuse violent tendencies?”
“It can as long as she goes along. Same with a wife or girlfriend. It’s often when the compliant partner gets fed up that things go bad. She’s been his punching bag, then she pulls the plug, maybe even threatens to tell. He gets enraged, kills her, finds he enjoys it. On to the next.”
Something he’d said was bothering me.
“Let’s back up. What kind of inanimate objects?”
“Pictures, dolls, clothing. Anything, really. I had one guy used to beat the crap out of a life-size blowup of Flip Wilson in drag.”
“I hate to ask.”
“Deep-seated rage against blacks, gays, and women. Hat trick every time he jerked off.”
“Of course.”
I could hear the Phantom of the Opera in the background.
“J.S., if a guy does that, makes pictures or uses a doll, for instance, does that mean he probably won’t kill?”
“Maybe, but again, who knows what’s going to alter his curve and nudge him over that line? One day a naughty picture is enough, the next it’s not.”
“Could a guy do both?”
“Both what?”
“Flip-flop back and forth.