The North Face of the Heart - Dolores Redondo Page 0,17

or misleading scenario. The dossier given to us did not mention that they’d been tied up or that the boy saw the killer was wearing a badge.” She regretted her words as soon as they were out of her mouth. She heard the door behind her close. The man who’d sat behind her had just left. She had a foreboding that the closing door had shut off any possibility they’d ever take her seriously.

She half closed her eyes and exhaled slowly before daring to look at Dupree again. He was holding up the last sticky note, the blue one she’d placed on the geographic profile.

He waved it at her. “‘Latent variables’?”

She paused to calm herself and then explained. “Latent or hidden variables, sir. Variables not directly observed but inferred from other information present and visible in the situation. The latent variables indicate he’s done this before and perfected his method. I’m certain there’s at least one other case.”

Emerson smiled malevolently. “Based on what evidence?”

Amaia turned toward him and even allowed herself a momentary smile before replying. “Based on a mathematical model. If you’re really a data analyst, you should be familiar with the method.”

“I know what they are,” he muttered.

“In this case,” she plunged ahead, “they are inferred from Agent Tucker’s declaration that the killer moves across a vast territory.” She remained in the same position and watched as signs of discomfit appeared on Emerson’s face. His eyes refused to meet hers, focusing on the middle distance.

“You couldn’t be more wrong—”

“Actually, she’s right,” Dupree interrupted. “There is another case. Last February a violent storm swept across the coast near Cape May, New Jersey. The Millers, a family with an identical age and gender composition, were found dead inside their home. As in the Mason case, they were buried without autopsies. Mrs. Miller’s extended family lives outside the United States. When they heard what had happened, her mother had a heart attack. She wasn’t able to travel until last week. Meanwhile, Mrs. Miller’s body was kept frozen at the express request of her family. Mary Ward, the proprietor of a funeral service in Cape May, thawed the body and began to prep it for a possible viewing. While applying makeup to the face, she noted a lump along the jaw that turned out to be a twenty-two-caliber bullet. We haven’t yet been able to obtain exhumation orders for the other family members because of the length of time since their deaths, the opposition of the heirs, and the intervention of an extremely conservative judge. The judge told us that photos taken of the scene should be sufficient for our investigation.” Dupree opened a drawer, took out a maroon folder, and placed it on the desk in front of Amaia. Inside, a thick packet of photos showed the interior of an oceanside cottage destroyed by wind and water. The bodies of the family were grouped in the main room of the cottage. The victims’ crushed skulls contrasted with their otherwise unscathed bodies.

Amaia went through the photos carefully, almost reverently, touching them as little as possible. She was brought back to the present by Agent Dupree’s voice.

“Assistant Inspector Salazar, early this morning a twister devastated a wide area in Texas. The bodies of the Allen family, including a father, mother, and three teenagers, two boys and a girl, have all been found dead in the wreckage of their home. Since both the father and the mother grew up as orphans in foster homes, at first glance, this case doesn’t look like it fits the killer’s profile. We are headed to Texas to take a closer look at the scene and we want you to come along.”

Amaia nodded obediently.

6

ITXUSURIA

Alvord, Texas

The grassy yard in front of the Allen house showed hardly any sign that a tornado had recently passed over it. The ground-level basement windows were intact, and so were the front porch steps. Pots filled with a profusion of tiny purple flowers flanked the front door. Only when she looked up did Amaia realize the single-story house no longer had a roof. The structure had been peeled away completely. It looked like a turtle with its shell ripped off.

The driveway was jammed with vehicles, evidence of the enormous number of police, firefighters, paramedics, and funeral home employees gathering on the premises. Amaia trailed behind the FBI unit along the narrow path the local police had cleared, but they had to stop because of the crowd. Agent Emerson, directly in front of her, looked back