I asked.
“Probably one of those whoopee-shit fusion places that make little designs in sauce. And get this: There was evidence of a condom on the body, Keye, but it wasn’t in the suite. Also, soap residue all over the body and all over the sheets under him. Brooks was squeaky clean except for some of his own semen. No other DNA on his body. Fingernails trimmed and brushed out. We got a load of stuff from the room, though, but it’s going to take weeks to break it down. Probably got stuff from three years ago in the carpet. Soap on Brooks was consistent with the hotel brand, which is also missing from the room. Oh, and something else interesting. Housekeeping says they put three washcloths in the room. All missing. No condom, no washcloths, no open bar of soap, one missing glass.”
“A sponge bath,” I said. A clearer picture was emerging of this killer, who was capable of more than just a con to get a front door open, but also of a clever, manipulative seduction. “That would account for the seminal fluid and the soap residue on the sheets. Must have been part of their sex. It’s one more thing that separates Brooks from the other victims.”
David Brooks was spared hours of torture. His body was covered in a loving way. He meant something in the life of this murderer—real or symbolic, he was significant.
“Killer came from behind, right?” I asked.
“Exactly right. Reached around from behind and stuck the knife blade into the substernal notch. Wounds are consistent with the knife used at prior scenes.”
The others had known what kind of danger they were in, what kind of monster had entrapped them. They had experienced the terror that comes with that knowing and been left naked with their legs spread. Brooks was different. Brooks was special. The killer didn’t want him to see death coming. Why? I shared my thoughts with Rauser and we grew quiet.
“Lobby cameras show Brooks checking in alone,” Rauser said finally. “No other outside surveillance except at the lobby. The unit next door was empty, and since there are only two of those units per building, it’s isolated. Somebody shoves a knife blade into my chest, I’m gonna scream like hell. The hotel was a good choice.”
“That kind of stab wound paralyzes the diaphragm,” I told him. “Air can’t pass through the vocal cords. It’s impossible for the victim to make a sound. Death is instantaneous. It wouldn’t have mattered where they were. It’s a completely silent kill.”
“That’s some creepy shit right there, Keye,” Rauser complained. “Christ. I don’t think I even want to be hanging out with somebody that knows that shit.”
“Hey, I’m just spreading the sunshine,” I said.
“We’ve been poking around in Brooks’s private life, and he was one womanizing sonofabitch. The guy would do anything that moved. No evidence that he was bisexual, but most guys hide that anyway.” I could hear the tension in his voice. And the exhaustion. “To be honest, I don’t feel one step closer to understanding how he picks them.”
“No,” I said. “We know one thing we didn’t know two days ago. The killer had feelings for Brooks. That’s huge, Rauser. You may have a victim who knew the killer in his life. What did he call it in the first letter, ‘the inner circle’?”
“So you don’t think this is the beginning of him having intercourse with the victims. You think this was specific to Brooks?”
“I think he knew him and I think that Brooks symbolized someone significant. Someone he loved and lusted after.”
“God,” Rauser complained. “What the fuck am I doing in this business?”
15
The Midtown house near Tenth Avenue didn’t look like a battered women’s shelter. I had driven or walked past it a million times over the years. It was ten minutes from my loft at the Georgian, but there was nothing to distinguish it from the other sprawling old Victorians that dotted Atlanta’s neighborhoods.
I’d packed for my Denver trip, then spent what was left of the morning looking for William LaBrecque. I went by the home he had once shared with his Russian wife, Darya, in Candler Park. A neighbor said it had been empty for a couple of days, that Darya and the boy left as soon as they found out LaBrecque had been released on bail. She knew he’d come back for her, said the neighbor, he always came back. I tracked down his parents and quickly discovered that Billy boy