The North Face of the Heart - Dolores Redondo Page 0,16
agreed. “I’m intrigued by this line of reasoning. Maybe this time, we’ve encountered something completely different. All the family members were executed, their injuries disguised, and none of them was subjected to any visible indignity. He treated them all the same.”
Amaia nodded. “The only differentiating factor is that the father owned the gun. That’s all. I don’t believe this case involves an annihilator, although it might look that way at first. He’s an evangelical assassin. He identifies those who have sinned and redeems them with death. And now we know he prays for them afterward.”
Emerson was adamant. “I don’t believe that’s relevant. Maybe he’s repentant. But the rest of the profile points to an annihilator. We all agree on that.”
Amaia saw Tucker tilt her head slightly. Emerson didn’t have the support he thought.
“Cognitive bias,” murmured Amaia, annoyed.
“What do you mean by that?” Emerson challenged her, offended.
Amaia took her time. She didn’t expect them to make it easy, but she hadn’t thought they’d want her to accept their views simply because they were FBI agents. She chose her words carefully. “I mean that when you draw up the profile of a killer, you have to be careful to avoid false-consensus bias. It’s human nature to look for evidence we can interpret to confirm our beliefs; it’s just as human to neglect anything that contradicts our views. It’s the same with consensus. There’s a tendency to assume that the theory we propound has more support than it actually does. Often we don’t question our own assumptions, and that’s a mistake. Sometimes lots of people have the same opinion, and they’re all wrong.”
Emerson stared at the floor. Johnson’s sigh of disgust was loud in the silence.
Dupree frowned slightly and stared at her. It was clear this discussion wasn’t to his liking.
Amaia could tell he regarded her as no more than an opinionated rookie—or less, since she wasn’t an actual FBI trainee. Well, it was true she was just a small-town cop from rural Spain, but she insisted on being treated with respect and knew how to stick up for herself. She’d done what she could to complete the exercise, even though she was convinced they’d left out important information. She heard a rustle behind her and saw Dupree acknowledging a signal she couldn’t see from the man seated at the door.
“Go on,” Dupree ordered her.
She nodded in acknowledgment. “It’s the fact that he prays for them that makes him different, and that distinction changes things. We still don’t know whether the praying is significant. It could be decisive. We can’t dismiss it just because it doesn’t fit the standard profile of an annihilator. We need to go deeper.” She spoke directly to Dupree. “And I suspect that’s what you think, as well.”
He raised his eyebrow again, but his skeptical look quickly turned to one of amusement. “Oh, really? What makes you say that?”
“I don’t think it’s a coincidence that you devoted yesterday’s lecture to killers who disguise their crimes.”
Dupree didn’t respond. He leafed through the dossier Amaia had decorated with sticky notes. Finally, he closed it and looked at her. “There are two more notes. In the one related to the victimological profile you say, ‘Same sexes, ages, relations.’ Wouldn’t that tend to confirm the unit’s analysis? If he’s a family exterminator, he’d require the same cast of characters you mention. Each family member would stand for someone he knew, for his own family, so as to give him the opportunity to exact his revenge.”
Amaia shook her head in disagreement. “He’s not seeking revenge; he’s looking for atonement. The cast of characters doesn’t matter to him, but completing the set of victims is extremely important. It’s the family, the concept of family per se. He’s an evangelical killer, but he doesn’t kill the dog, because the animal’s not part of his creation. I’m sure that he didn’t touch any pets.”
She noted sounds of discomfort. Sighs, shifts of position. She’d put all her chips on the table. Her bravado had captured their attention, but she was aware of the risk she had taken.
Amaia sat up straighter. This was winding down. If she didn’t speak now, she’d never have another chance.
“Sir, I couldn’t deliver the profiles without getting the answers to my questions. Information is missing, sir—”
Tucker cut her off. “You could have completed the exercise with the information you had.”
“Knowing information had been withheld confirmed my conclusions,” she replied quickly. “Completing the exercise without all the relevant information would have meant accepting a fraudulent