Page 15 of Whispers at Dusk
He shook his head, indicating the files they had on the killer known throughout Europe as the Vampire.
“He has his display—his way of taunting police and media. But I don’t believe he thinks he must follow his protocol if someone is in his way. I believe this person will kill thoughtlessly at any given moment. I believe the person we’re looking for is a true psychopath in every sense of the word. The death of an innocent human being means absolutely nothing to him at all. Anyone is expendable.”
“So, what do you make of the writing in the dirt on the river embankment?” Della asked.
“It’s a game. It’s all a game. Like I said, he’s taunting us.”
“So, we’ve determined he’s not just a sick killer?”
“We don’t know yet. There are several theories we could go by. Any idea we have right now could be wrong. We’re going to have to find suspects and more evidence.”
“All right. The cause of death is exsanguination. Method—human teeth. He doesn’t leave behind a drop of blood. Then he displays his victims as if they are images of Snow White ready to be awakened. Of course, there are several theories. But I think we both believe he’s an organized psychopath.”
“Hopefully, we’ll find out the truth—or at least something that will lead us to the truth—once we get to Norway.”
“I haven’t found the reason they suspect this killer is American.”
He smiled at her. “Harbor.”
“Pardon?”
“His spelling. He wrote in English. But he didn’t writeharbour, he wroteharbor.”
“Hm. If this guy has an endgame and he’s so smart, wouldn’t he have thought of that? Maybe it was just to throw us all off.”
“Maybe. Anything is possible. You looked at the cases Jackson researched that might have been the killer’spracticekillings?” Mason asked.
She nodded, then shook her head. “Again, we just don’t know. Mary Salazar, killed three years ago, found in the Everglades, throat slashed with an incision that would control the flow of blood—and no blood found at the crime scene, so she was killed elsewhere. But no teeth marks. She was, however, lain out as if she were asleep. Local law enforcement found her before she became a meal for any local scavengers.”
“And Andrea Milton, found in the mountains of Virginia, same details. Both cases unsolved. Both bled dry. But knives used, perhaps even scalpels. Nothing left behind, though the bodies were found within twenty-four hours. Killer had to have worn gloves—and if there was anything at all, well, nature took care of getting rid of it before forensics had a chance. Both cases remain open. Families were checked, obviously, boyfriends checked out, alibis solid... The police were left with nothing.”
“Our Midnight Slasher seemed to think the Vampire had fans or perhaps...others who were cohorts with him. Of course, he could have been talking out of his—” Della began.
“I don’t think the Midnight Slasher knew the Vampire or anything about him,” Mason said, wincing. “I think he wanted...well, that kind of mythical fame. I hope there isn’t more than one person killing at this rate with this method. Let’s also hope you and I can find something solid. Something others have missed. Again, travel like this takes money.”
“The young women found in the US might have been the first victims for our killer. We may need to start looking at CEOs.”
“Possibly,” Mason agreed. “And that’s the word of the hour. We possibly have two American victims—starters as he learned how he wanted to kill. We have a victim in France and two in England. All three with puncture wounds from canine teeth. We do have DNA—but it matches nothing in any system. Norway now. We know he moves about easily. There might be more than one person on this crime spree, but I think it unlikely.”
“We have to get this guy,” Della said with decisiveness.
“We will get him,” Mason assured her. “Because we won’t stop. And we’re not alone. The murders in the states were handled by the local police without a connection to other events that might have been pertinent. It’s different now. No one is saying exactly who wanted us in on this, but someone at the Krewe brilliantly put all this together. We will have what others didn’t until now—a team, law enforcement from the countries involved and from Interpol and the investigative brilliance of the Krewe offices back home. We can’t stop—because he won’t. We will get this guy.”
Della nodded gravely. Maybe, deep in her heart or mind, she hadn’t been sure about Mason Carter.
Now she was. And she realized they would stop the man so proud to steal the lives of others as the Vampire even if it killed them both—literally.
From their landing in Norway, the small but beautiful town of Lillehammer was a two-hour ride. They were picked up at the airport by Jon Wilhelm, chief on the investigation from the National Police Directorate.
Mason quickly found the man to be direct, competent, and ready to work with assistance from afar. He also spoke English perfectly and even with an American accent, that from having headed to Yale for his college years. He was a man of about fifty, Mason thought, one who had handled the most serious cases throughout Norway, and who seemed to believe the killer was indeed an American.
“It is possible, of course,” Wilhelm said, glancing quickly at Mason through the rearview mirror, “that he wrote as he did to throw everyone off.”
“We’ve thought of that,” Mason said. “For all we know, the killer could be from any continent.”
“Web translator will get you far,” Della murmured, watching the terrain as they drove.
“When you’ve rested, we’ll get you to the site where the bodies were discovered,” Wilhelm said.
