I can’t remember the last time I picked up a tool. I snapped at Lauren the other day, and all she asked was whether I’d sent out invitations yet. But if I even think about making a guest list, my mind blanks.
When I tried to talk to Evan about it he said we might want to consider postponing the wedding until things settle down. You can imagine how well that went over. He does have a point — the timing is a nightmare — but I waited my whole life to feel the way I do when I’m with Evan. I didn’t know men like him even existed. He’s so nurturing, bringing me food when I’m in my workshop, pouring baths when I have a headache, yet he’s strong enough to handle my intensity. And we’re both homebodies, preferring to watch movies on our couch rather than go out in the evening. We rarely fight, but when we do we work it out fast. He’s so good and kind that it makes me want to be the same way.
I can’t stand the idea of waiting to marry him. The way things are going lately, though? I may not have a choice.
Last Wednesday morning I headed straight to the police station. My hands gripped the wheel as I sat in the parking lot for a couple of minutes. It’s going to be okay, whatever I find out, I can handle it.
Inside I gave some blood for a DNA sample, then Sergeant Dubois took me back to the room with the couch to wait for the Serious Crimes people. Just as I sat down there was a knock on the door and a man and woman entered.
I expected haggard-looking older men in black suits and sunglasses, but the woman was somewhere in her forties and dressed in loose-fitting navy dress pants, a plain white blouse, and a brown blazer-style leather jacket. Her short dirty-blond hair was streaked by the sun and her skin glowed with a tan. The man was younger, maybe late thirties, wearing stylish black pants and a black dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up, revealing Asian symbols tattooed down both forearms. His olive skin tone, shaved head, and hooded eyes gave him a Mediterranean look. When he flashed a friendly smile I caught a dimple — and the impression he didn’t lack for female attention.
Sergeant Dubois said, “Sara, I’m going I’ll leave you to Staff Sergeant McBride and Corporal Reynolds,” then left the room. The woman sat at the other end of the couch while the man pulled up a chair in front of me.
“So you’re from the Serious Crimes Unit in Vancouver?” I said.
He nodded. “We came over last night.” I couldn’t place his accent, maybe somewhere on the East Coast. He handed me his card and I saw he was Corporal B. Reynolds. So the woman was the sergeant. I was impressed.
She handed me her card. “You can just call me Sandy.” She motioned to the corporal. “And this is Billy.”
“Bill,” he said, shaking a fist at Sandy.
She laughed. “I’m older and wiser, that means I can call you whatever I want.” I smiled, enjoying their banter. Sandy turned to me. “Can we get you a coffee or water, Sara?”
“I’m good. I’ll just need to pee a million times.”
Sandy shook her head and said, “Isn’t it annoying? I made Billy stop twice on the way here.” He nodded and rolled his eyes.
I said, “It got worse after I had my daughter. Do you have children?”
“Just a dog.”
Billy snorted. “Tyson’s not a dog. He’s a human in a Rottweiler suit.”
Sandy laughed. “He’s a handful.” She met my eyes. “And I’m sure Ally keeps you busy.” For a moment I was surprised they knew Ally’s name, then I realized they probably knew everything about me. My bubble popped. This wasn’t a social call. These people were here to catch a serial killer.
Billy had a thick file in his hands and started to flip through it. He dropped it, and I moved to help him gather the papers, then recoiled when I saw a photo of a woman’s pale and bruised face.
“Oh, my God, is that…” I looked at Sandy. She was watching beside me but made no comment. I glanced back at Billy, who was casually placing photos back in the file.
“Sorry about that,” he said. I sat back in my chair and stared hard at him, wondering if he’d dropped it on purpose, but he looked genuinely apologetic.
Sandy said, “This must be very overwhelming for you.”
“It’s pretty crazy.” They were both watching me now, so I added, “It’s not quite the situation I was hoping for when I decided to find my birth mother.”
Sandy’s eyes were sympathetic, but her fingers tapped on her knees.
Billy said, “Have you heard from him again?” He leaned forward and his biceps bulged as he rested his elbows on his chair. The lamp in the corner cast a glow on the right side of his face and his eyes looked almost black in the dim light. I pressed farther into the couch, fiddling with my engagement ring.
Sandy cleared her throat.
I said, “Just the calls I got Monday night. I already told Sergeant Dubois about them — I gave him the phone numbers.”
Billy looked at Sandy, then back at the file in his hands. It made me nervous, which made me mad.
I said, “I didn’t answer because Sergeant Dubois said you guys were going to coach me on what to say, but the number’s still on the call display if you want to check.”
“You handled it perfectly.” Sandy’s voice was calm. “The next time he calls we’d like you to answer. Let him guide the conversation, but if there’s an opening, try to see if he’ll give you any information about the earrings, the victims, where he’s calling from, anything like that. Even small details can help us determine whether he’s actually the Campsite Killer. But if he becomes agitated, change the subject.” “What if it’s really him?”
Sandy said, “Then you might be able to establish a relationship with him and—”
“You want me to keep talking to him?” My voice rose in panic.
Billy said, “Let’s just take this one step at a time. We’re not going to ask you to do anything you don’t want to do.”
Sandy said, “That’s right, for now we just need to know who this person is and why he’s calling.”
My body relaxed, slightly. “Do you have any idea where he might be?”
Billy said, “The calls have been coming from the Kamloops area, but the pay phones he used were in remote locations and wiped clean, so he’s being careful.” I was relieved to hear he was an hour and a half ferry trip and a few hours’ drive from my home.
“Billy and I are staying in town,” Sandy said. “We’ll give you our cell numbers so you can call us the minute you hear from him — any time of day.”
We were all quiet for a moment, then I said in a hushed voice, “Summer’s coming. Do you think he’s still, you know … active?”
Sandy said, “We never know when he’ll hit, but as long as he’s out there it’s always a possibility. That’s why this lead is so important.”
“You have a lead?” They stared at me. “Oh, you mean me.” My face was hot.
“The profiles show someone familiar with the woods,” Billy said. “He’s cunning and used to living by his wits, probably a loner. Someone who spends a lot of time hunting.” I shuddered as an image of a terrified woman running through the woods flashed in my mind. Billy continued, “The description we got from Julia yesterday—” “You saw Julia?”
Sandy said, “We interviewed her in Victoria. Based on her original description the suspect was probably in his late teens or early twenties at the time of her attack. He’d be in his early to mid-fifties now. Methods have changed in the last few years, so we had her sit down again with a police artist from the Behavioral Science Unit.” Billy handed me a sheet of paper. “This is a composite sketch of how the suspect might look today.”
I sucked in my breath. No wonder Julia freaked out at the sight of me. Even in this rough drawing I could see the resemblance — same cat eyes, left eyebrow that arched higher than the right, Nordic bone structure.
I stared down at the drawing. “His hair…”
Sandy said, “Julia described it as a deep reddish brown color … and wavy.” I looked up just as her gaze flicked to my hair. My stomach rolled. Billy took the sketch from me as Sandy said, “Julia was attacked in the middle of July, but another woman was killed in Prince Rupert later that August. This is the only time he hit twice in the same summer, so it was probably because he failed with Julia. He’s very careful and leaves virtually no evidence. That’s why we need you to play along with this caller, so we can find out if he’s really the Campsite Killer. It’s all we have to go on right now.” I looked back and forth between Billy and Sandy. Their gazes were steady on mine. I took a deep breath, and then nodded reluctantly.
“Okay, I’ll try.”
As soon as I left the station I phoned Evan. He didn’t answer his cell, so I left him a miss-you-and-need-you message. I wasn’t ready to go home and face the possibility of another phone call from my supposed father, so I picked up a vanilla latte and walked along the seawall — obsessing about everything Sandy and Billy had said. We wouldn’t see the results on the DNA test for another three to six weeks, but I got the feeling the police were sure I was the Campsite Killer’s daughter.
Before I left them I’d asked about the other cases, what kind of evidence they had, but they wouldn’t give me details — not even on Julia’s. They said it was better I didn’t know too much so I wouldn’t accidentally reveal anything. They also told me to call them right away if I saw anyone who looked suspicious. Problem was, now everyone did.
When I’m out for a walk I generally stop and talk to anyone and everyone, but now I avoided eye contact and watched middle-aged men warily. Was it him? What about that tall man under the tree? Was that man on the bench staring at me?
It was sunny for a change, but still cool for the middle of April, and the wind off the ocean was biting. After I walked the seawall twice, my cheeks stung and my hands felt like ice cubes. Evan hadn’t called back yet and I couldn’t avoid home any longer — Moose needed out and I had a ton of things to do before I picked Ally up from school. I took a deep breath and headed to the Cherokee. If he called I was just going to have to deal with it.
But nothing happened for the rest of the week. By Friday evening I was starting to wonder if the call was a hoax after all. Sandy or Billy checked in every day, their voices more falsely casual with each call, and I wondered if they thought I’d made it up. The initial flurry of calls from reporters died down, and when I checked online there were no new comments on any of the blogs. A few people asked Evan and Lauren about it, but they told them it was just a rumor. No one dared ask me. But I caught a few odd looks from parents at school when I dropped Ally off. I’m sure people are still gossiping, which drives me nuts, but as long as it doesn’t get back to Ally, I can deal with it. I talked to Dad, and the private investigator hadn’t called him back either. He was still talking about suing that Web site, but it sounded like he was losing interest as everything died down and his lawyer bill went up.
It was all going away. I’d never been more relieved.
By Saturday morning I was missing Evan like crazy and couldn’t wait for him to come home Monday. While Ally played over at Meghan’s, I hit my shop for a few hours and got more done than I had in a week. Still riding the high of getting so much accomplished, I took a quick shower before I picked up Ally.
While I soaped sawdust out of my hair, I made mental plans for the rest of the day. Maybe we’d tie-dye some T-shirts and go to a movie later. We hadn’t had a girl’s night for a while. When I was single we used to get dressed up and go on dates together every weekend. As much as I loved my life now, I missed our special times. After she was asleep I could make a rough guest list for Evan to go over. How long had it been since we’d done anything special together? While I pulled on some jeans and one of Evan’s T-shirts, stopping to sniff for any lingering traces of his scent, I daydreamed about a candlelight picnic, then a bubble bath for two, followed by — The doorbell rang.
I peeked through the side blinds and spotted a delivery truck. The name painted on the side was a local company, but I kept one hand gripped on the baseball bat Evan had tucked in the corner and cracked the door.
A short man with black hair and droopy jowls stood on the steps, a small box in one hand and a clipboard in the other.
“Sara Gallagher?” I nodded. He thrust the clipboard toward me. “Please sign at the bottom.”
I rested the baseball bat on the wall behind the door, signed the clipboard, and took the box. As he started backing down the driveway I glanced at the return address.
Hansel and Gretel Antiques4589 Lonesome WayWilliams Lake BC
It was addressed to my business, Better Than Before, Furniture Refinishing and Antique Restoration, but I didn’t recognize the other store. In the kitchen, I cut the tape down the center of the package. As I rummaged through the foam kernels my hands touched something square. I pulled out a blue velvet box and opened it. Resting on satin was a beautiful pair of — Pearl earrings, they were pink pearl earrings.
I dropped the box.
Sandy answered on the first ring.
“I think he just sent me her earrings.…” I struggled to get my breath. “But there’s no note or—”
“He sent you something?” Sandy’s voice was too loud, then she caught herself and it smoothed out. “Just leave everything as is — don’t touch anything, we’re on the way.”
I stared at the box on the counter, my entire body shaking.
“The address said it’s from Hansel and Gretel Antiques.”
“Do you recognize the company?”
“No, but ‘Hansel and Gretel’ was one of Ally’s favorite stories.” My mind filled again with an image of a woman running for her life. “The children, they were lost in the woods.”
Sandy paused for a moment, then said, “Just hang in there, Sara, we’re on our way. Are you home alone?”
“I’m supposed to get Ally. She’s at her friend’s, and I was just going to—”
“Call and arrange for her to stay longer, we’ll be there in a few minutes.”
Ten minutes later tires crunched on gravel. I peeked out the front window — I’d been lurking in the living room, as far from the box as I could get — and watched as a black Chevy Tahoe pulled up, with Billy at the wheel. It was barely parked before Sandy climbed out. Even though it was cloudy, they were both wearing sunglasses.
I whipped open the front door. “You have to get that box out of here.”
Billy said, “We’ll be as quick as we can.”
Inside the house, they pulled on gloves and examined the box and the earrings while I sat at the table. Moose rested his round bottom on my feet, growling at the police under his breath.
My cell phone rang on the table. Sandy and Billy turned and looked at me.
“It’s probably Evan.” I picked it up and checked the call display, then jumped to my feet. “I think it’s him.” I held the phone out like I was hoping one of them would answer.
Sandy’s voice was clipped. “Is it the same number as before?”
“I don’t think so. But the prefix looks the same — I don’t know how he got my cell number.”
The ringing stopped.
I said, “What do we—”
Sandy grabbed the phone out of my hand and checked the call display.
“Pen?”
“Drawer behind you.”
She yanked open the drawer, found a pen and paper, and scribbled something down. She handed Billy my cell, then went into the other room with her phone. She was talking quickly into it, but I couldn’t hear the words. Her hand moved in the air in rapid jerks.
I sat back down with a thud and stared at Billy. “It’s him. I know it.”
Now Billy checked the call display on my cell. “Let’s just wait and see if he calls back.”
“What if he senses you’re here and flips out and—”
“One step at a time. Looks like he might’ve called from a cell this time, so right now Sandy’s contacting a service provider. Hopefully, they’ll be able to triangulate the call.”
“Triangulate?”
“If he’s in a populated area near multiple cell phone towers we can narrow down his location to within a two-hundred-meter radius, about the length of two football fields. But if he’s in a remote area where there’s only one tower, or on the move, that zone could be several miles. If he calls back, just take a deep breath, pretend we aren’t here, and let him do the talking. It’s going to be fine. You can handle this, Sara.” Sandy moved farther into the living room. Her voice sounded angry.
I said, “Those are Julia’s earrings. They have silver leaves, just like she said. He took them from her when he—” I covered my mouth with one hand.
Billy said, “You okay, Sara?”
I shook my head.
“Take a couple of really big breaths in through your nose, try to imagine the air going deep into your lungs, then blow out through your mouth until there’s nothing left.”
“I know how to breathe, Billy. What if the earrings have blood on them and—”
“Take a deep breath.” His voice was firm.
I took a quick one. “I’m just saying he might have ripped them from her and—”
“Right now your body is going into fight-or-flight. You need to calm down or nothing I say will register. Put your hand on your chest and focus on it lifting as you breathe. Don’t think about anything but your hand. It will help, Sara.” “Fine.” I did as he suggested, holding his gaze while my chest rose and fell, my eyes conveying I’m only doing this because you’re making me.
He smiled and motioned for me to do it again. Finally he said, “I was right, wasn’t I?
I actually did feel a lot better, but I said, “Just give me a minute.” In the downstairs bathroom I splashed cold water on my face. Then I stared in the mirror at my watering eyes and flushed face, at my hair. His hair. I wanted to shave it all off.
Sandy and Billy were waiting in the kitchen. Sandy paced, Billy leaned against the counter with Moose in his arms. Moose squirmed at the sight of me and Billy let him down, saying, “All right, all right.”
Sandy smiled. “Feel better?” But the smile didn’t reach her eyes and her body radiated tension.
The earrings were in a plastic bag on the counter beside Billy. So was the box.
Evidence.
Billy got me a glass from the dish tray and ran me some water. As he handed it to me I said, “Thanks.”
He nodded and crossed his arms across his chest and leaned back against the counter. Sandy’s phone rang again and she picked it up.
“What?” Her face flushed as she said into the phone, “That’s not fucking good enough.” She frowned as she listened, running her hand through her hair until it was sticking up.
With my arms wrapped around my body, I leaned against the counter near Billy.
“I can’t believe this is happening.”
Billy said, “It’s a lot to take in.”
“Ya think?”
Sandy flashed us a look, then stalked off to the living room.
Billy lowered his voice and said, “We’ll also have someone check into the depot the package was sent from. Now that we know he has your cell number, we’ll tap it as well. Someone will be monitoring any calls to your landline or cell twenty-four hours a day.” As Billy filled me in on the process, giving me lots of details and facts, my mind began to settle and I felt my confidence come back. Billy was right, I could handle this. Then my cell rang.
Billy grabbed the phone. Sandy closed hers and ran back.
Billy said, “Same number.” Sandy nodded and Billy handed the phone to me.
Sandy said, “Okay, Sara. You can answer it now.” But I couldn’t.
It continued to ring. They stared at me.
Sandy raised her voice. “Answer the phone.”
Billy said, “It’s okay, Sara, just like we talked about. You’ve got it in the bag, you’re ready to go.”
I looked down at the phone in my hand. Every ring clamored in my head. All I had to do was pick it up. Pick it up. Pick—
The ringing stopped.
Sandy said, “Shit! We lost him.”
Billy said, “Sandy, let’s just give her a moment, okay? He’ll call back.”
“If he doesn’t, we lost our only chance to stop him.”
“I’m sorry. I just — I panicked.”
Sandy looked like she was forcing herself to sound patient. “That’s all right, Sara, most likely he’ll call back.” She tried to smile, but I was sure she wanted to slap me. She held out her hand for the phone. “When he calls I’ll pretend to be you.” Billy said, “Do you think that’s a good idea, Sandy? He’s heard her voice.” Sandy glared at him, but he just said, “Don’t worry, you’ll get your chance to rip him apart. When we catch him I’ll leave you alone in the room with him for a couple of hours.” To my surprise, Sandy started to laugh, then pretended to throw her phone at Billy, which made me laugh. The tension faded from the room and I leaned back against the counter. It was okay. If we could still laugh, it was okay.
Billy turned to me. “Sara, I know you’re scared. But I also know you can do it, or we wouldn’t ask. You just have to get over the initial fear — once you start talking you’ll do great. Got any coffee?”
Just as I pointed to the stainless-steel flask behind them on the counter, the cell rang. They spun around.
“Remember, you can do this.” Billy’s voice was low and steady and rang with conviction. “Now pick up the phone!”
I took a deep breath and answered my father’s call.
“Hello?”
“Hi, Sara. How are you?” He sounded excited — eager.
“Why do you keep calling me?” My body began to vibrate and I sat down at the kitchen table. Sandy and Billy eased themselves into chairs across from me.
“Because I’m your dad.”
“I have a dad.”
He was silent. Sandy’s hand balled on the table like it was taking all her strength not to rip the phone from my hand.
“You can call me John for now.”
I didn’t say anything.
He said, “You got my present?”
“Yes. How did you get this number?”
“It was on the Internet.” Of course, my business was listed on a Web site directory. That must’ve been how he found me in the first place. Too late I remembered Evan’s warning, You sure you want your cell number on there?
“Do you like the earrings?”
“Where did you get them from?” I knew I sounded angry, but I couldn’t stop the emotion from leaking into my voice. I glanced at Billy and he mouthed, Keep going. I didn’t look at Sandy.
John said, “Karen gave them to me.” I closed my eyes against the image his words created. He said something else, but it was drowned out by a roar from a vehicle going by.
He said, “Sorry about the background noise. I’m in my truck.”
“Where are you?”
He paused for a moment, then said, “It won’t work like that, Sara. I know you’ve probably called the cops and your landline’s tapped. But I won’t reveal anything they can use. Even if they trace this call, I know the Interior like the back of my hand. They’ll never find me.” I stared at the two cops sitting at the table with me. Did he really know I’d called them or was he just bluffing? My pulse beat loud in my ear. I had to answer fast. “I didn’t tell anyone. I thought it was just a prank.”
He paused for a moment, then said, “I guess you probably got a few prank calls. Your family must be upset. Is that why you told the papers Karen Christianson wasn’t really your mother?”
My stomach muscles tightened at the intimate tone in his voice, his casual way of speaking about my family. Then I realized I’d found my way out.
“She’s not my mother. It was just a rumor someone started. I told you—”
“I saw your Facebook photo. You’re my daughter.”
My Facebook photo. How many others did he see? Did he know about Ally? My mind scrambled, trying to remember my profile settings.
He said, “And I saw Julia’s photo in the paper. I know she’s Karen Christianson. She hit me in the head.” The last sentence he said with grudging respect.
“Is that what this is about? You’re trying to find her?”
“I have no interest in her anymore.”
“Then what do you want?”
“I have to talk to you whenever I have the urge. It’s the only way I might be able to stop.”
“What … what will you stop?”
“Hurting people.”
I sucked in my breath as my thoughts scattered.
He said, “I have to go now. We’ll talk more next time — keep your phone with you.”
“I can’t always answer when you—”
“You have to answer.”
“But I may not be able to. Sometimes I’m busy and—”
“If you don’t answer, then I’ll have to do something else.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’ll have to find someone.”
“No! No, don’t do that. I’ll keep my phone on—”
“I’m not bad, Sara. You’ll see.” He hung up.
He hasn’t called since. I know I should be happy — no news is good news, right? But I walk around in a constant state of anxiety. The first thing I did was check Facebook. Thankfully he could only see my profile picture because the rest were set to private, but I still removed everything. Billy and Sandy stayed until I’d calmed down, or as calm as I could be given what had just happened, and we went over what to do if he calls again. They want me to continue denying I told the police anything. Billy said the more confident John is, the more likely he’ll make a mistake. But I think he has good reason to feel confident.
The police weren’t able to triangulate the call because he’d made it from somewhere west of Williams Lake and they could only get a signal from one tower. It took almost an hour for the local police to get there, and by then he could’ve been anywhere. All they could do was patrol the main highway and back roads, stopping vehicles, asking homeowners if they’d seen any strangers in the area. But without a vehicle description they don’t have much to go on. He was also using a stolen phone, which sent them on another wild goose chase as they tried to track down the owner.
I’ve traveled through BC and I know the more populated towns are in the southern part of the Interior, the Okanagan region, but when you’re in the Central and Northern Interior, most of the towns are small. They’re also hours apart, with nothing but mountains and valleys surrounding them. You don’t have to drive far to disappear into the wilderness. And if the remoteness of the terrain wasn’t bad enough, Billy said there can be delays getting information from the service provider, and sometimes the signal even pings off the wrong tower. I asked about GPS, but apparently he can just turn that feature off.
Billy thinks John knew exactly how long it would take for the police to get to the area. Even the pay phones he’d called me from were all remote locations like old campsites and rest areas, which meant no witnesses or cameras. They also think he makes sure there are multiple routes to the location, so he’s never fenced in. The police still seem sure they’ll find him, but I’m having some serious doubts. They don’t think he realizes they can tap my cell, but he said it himself, it doesn’t matter what I told them or if they traced the call, he knows the Interior like the back of his hand. He’s been getting away with this for over thirty years. What’s going to stop him now?
When I told Evan what happened he freaked out and wanted me to tell the cops I wouldn’t do it. I told him they thought I was their only chance to find him, and if they didn’t he’d keep killing. Finally we agreed I’d take it one day at a time. He came home on Monday — God, I was happy to see him — but I still couldn’t relax. We finally sat down and did the guest list, but then Billy called to see how I was doing. I left the table so I could talk to him out in my shop and when I came back in Evan said, “One of your boyfriends?” “Ha, ha. It was that cop I met the other day. Sorry for taking so long — we were talking about John.”
“No worries.”
But I was worried. I couldn’t stop thinking about what I should say next time John called. We went for a long walk with Ally and Moose that night and rented a comedy, but I couldn’t tell you one thing that happened in that movie.
Evan said he hates seeing me so scared and upset, but I can’t help it. While I’m making dinner for Ally, while I’m tucking her in at night, while we’re brushing our teeth in the morning, all I’m thinking about is whether the police will catch John before he kills someone.
I’ve read every article on his victims. I know about Samantha, the pretty blond nineteen-year-old who was camping in a provincial park with her boyfriend. He was shot twice in the back as he tried to escape. They found Samantha’s body a couple of miles into the park. Her arm was broken in three places from a fall, and as she fled through the woods something jabbed straight through her cheek. The Campsite Killer covered her face with her Nike T-shirt, then raped and strangled her. I used to have the same shirt.
I know about Erin, the brunette softball player who decided to go camping by herself and was found two weeks later by someone’s dog — he brought her hand back to the campfire where his owners were roasting marshmallows. The police had to use dental records to identify what was left after the animals got to her.
Sleep has become my nighttime nemesis. I wander the house or watch late-night TV while the clock ticks. I have baths, showers, drink warm milk, and lie on Ally’s bed stroking her curls while she sleeps. If Evan’s home I curve my body around his, try to match my breathing with his, and daydream about how beautiful our wedding will be. Nothing helps.
When I’m not reading about John online, I’m researching serial killers: Ed Kemper, Ted Bundy, Albert Fish, the Green River Killer, BTK, the Hillside Stranglers, the Zodiac Killer, Canada’s Robert Pickton and Clifford Olson, and too many more. I study their patterns, their triggers, their victims, every detail of their horrific crimes. That’s in addition to the books by FBI profilers and psychologists.
I compare theories and arguments — psychopath, mental defect, chemical imbalance, dysfunctional childhood? I take pages and pages of notes and when I finally do fall into an exhausted sleep, I have nightmares of women leaping off diving boards onto pavement or running through fields of broken glass. I hear their screams. I hear them beg, but they’re begging me to stop chasing them. In the dreams they’re running away from me.