Page 3 of Line of Sight (Second Sight #4)

“WELL, AREN’T you the little overachiever?” Gary quipped.

Gary opened it, and his gorge rose at the sight. There was no doubt the subject matter was as gruesome as the others.

“Great. Now I have to redo my board,” he declared with an eye roll. He wasn’t serious, but anything was better than dealing with another grisly death.

And this one was every bit as grisly as Brad’s.

Dan shook his head, picked up the eraser, and got to work. “So who was this guy?”

Gary peered at the sheet of notes in the folder. “Scott McCarthy, aged twenty-two.” He handed Dan the headshot. “Died January 13, 1995. Sure was unlucky for him. Must’ve been a Friday.”

“It was,” Barry announced.

“You sure there are no more before him? You’re not going to waltz in here in an hour’s time and tell me you’ve found three more cases?”

“I checked Massachusetts, Maine, New Hampshire, you name it. These are the only ones on VICAP that fit your MO.”

Dan took the crime-scene photo and attached it to the board in the new section he’d added, along with the headshot. “These can’t be the work of one killer. Okay, so they’re all brutal, horrific even, but they’re all different.”

Gary stared at the image of a man seated in a bathtub, an ax planted in his face across his mouth, creating a bloody grotesque smile.

Scott McCarthy made it five.

“You said you had some names for us?” Gary murmured, unable to tear his gaze away from the photos.

“I went through the list of attendees at that charity ball.” Barry tapped the folder in Gary’s hand. “I’ve included some names I think you should be looking at.”

“How did you arrive at them?” Dan asked.

“I ran all the reports through my software. These guys kept turning up. You’ll see what I mean when you go into the cases. And now that I’ve given you more work to do, I’ll get my ass out of here. You need anything else, you know where to find me.”

And with that, Barry left the office.

Gary located the list of names in the folder. “Okay, we’ve got Amy Walsh, Jason Kelly, Greg Collins, Jennifer Sullivan.” He wrote them on the board. “One of those names is kinda familiar.”

“It should be.” Dan pointed to one of the victims. “Heather Kelly. If they’re not related, that’s one huge coincidence.

And I’ve got the list of attendees here.

” He picked up a folder from his desk, removed the stapled list Sean Nichols had given them, and perused it.

“Yup. They’re all in here.” He replaced the folder on his desk, then folded his arms. “Okay, we need to make a start. Want to start with Brad’s case? ”

Gary shook his head. “No, we’ll take them in chronological order. But before we do, let’s get our resident psychologist in to give her opinion.”

He couldn’t see a pattern either, but maybe Kathy Wainwright could.

KATHY STOOD in front of the board for several minutes, examining each photo. Dan leaned against Gary’s desk, sipping his coffee while Gary read through the notes they’d received for each case.

At last she shuddered. “Not something you see every day.” She turned her head to gaze at them. “I can’t see a pattern, except of course that they’re all horrific cases.” She frowned. “You think these are all committed by one person?”

“No,” Dan replied.

“Yes.” Gary stared at him.

Kathy chuckled. “O- kay .” She returned her gaze to the photos. “What strikes me is how different they all are. A different MO for each one. That’s not as uncommon as you might think, although some killers like to stick to one MO. It’s a case of ‘if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.’”

Dan cocked his head to one side. “If they feel comfortable with it?”

She beamed. “Exactly. But if an MO doesn’t work for them anymore? They change it. Serial killers are an adaptable breed, unfortunately. What you sometimes see is a progression.”

He frowned. “Can you explain that?”

Kathy perched on the edge of Dan’s desk.

“Let’s assume a serial killer is doing this for the high.

They’re always searching for the next rush, if you like.

Well, that leads to more and more violent murders.

The victims need to suffer more so that the killer gets what he needs.

” She pointed to the board. “But there’s no progression here.

They’re all as violent as each other. It’s as if he jumped feet first into the first murder and then continued in the same vein.

” She stared at the photo of Heather Kelly.

“When you do catch this guy, I’d be interested to know if there were any murders before these.

Maybe not as violent, not as noticeable.

” She straightened and stood. “Let me know when you have more to go on.” Kathy paused.

“And by the way, Mr. Porter… are you related to Matthew Porter? The portrait painter?”

Dan blinked. “He’s my brother.”

She smiled. “There’s a resemblance. A very impressive, talented man.” She gave a nod in Gary’s direction before heading for the door. “Good luck, gentlemen.”

Gary glanced at Dan. “Your brother paints? Sounds as if he’s famous.” He picked up his phone.

Dan reached for his own phone. “He must be in the news again.” He flashed Gary a smile.

“Matt’s amazing. Let me see what I’ve missed.

He never tells me when he’s going to do stuff like this.

” He scrolled and then grinned. “Ah—bingo. There’s an article in The Art Newspaper .

” There was an image of an elderly man with a long, straggly wiry beard and wild hair, seated in a leather armchair in front of a bookcase, looking pensive.

His hand rested on his knee, and Dan stared at the beautifully rendered fingers.

Oh wow, Matt. The detail….

Gary frowned. “Wait—isn’t that Donald Hall? The poet?”

Dan nodded. “Matt started painting him in late spring this year, but Donald died in June. His son must have said it was okay for Matt to finish it.” He gazed fondly at the image. “Matt said he and Donald used to discuss the Boston Red Sox for hours.”

Gary scrolled. “Ah. Now I know why Kathy mentioned the resemblance.” He handed Dan the phone.

Dan smiled when he saw the family portrait.

“He did this for Dad’s sixtieth birthday last year.

” He pointed. “That’s Matt and his wife, Nicole, that’s my sister Jessica and her husband, Ben, and that’s my youngest sister, Mia, and her husband, Leo.

” Dan laughed. “He left the kids out. I remember Mom complained at the time, but Dad told her he loved it just as it was.”

“You take after your dad,” Gary murmured, staring at the photo.

Dan didn’t need his gift to know what was going on inside Gary’s head.

He put his arms around Gary, hoping for no unexpected visitors. His coworkers knowing he and Gary were in a relationship was one thing—being confronted by them embracing was something else, and it would bother Gary a lot more than it bothered him.

“They will meet you soon, I promise. And while we’re on the subject of parents, I think it would be a good idea to visit yours again, to see if they can share any more information about Brad.”

“How about Thanksgiving?”

Dan thought about it. “Here’s an idea. We’ll spend Thanksgiving with your parents—and Christmas with mine.” His parents would have a houseful on both occasions, and Thanksgiving wasn’t that far off.

Dan wasn’t sure what he expected to learn about Brad, but he never ignored his senses, and right then they were telling him this was important.

They were also telling him he might need to be less emphatic about there being more than one killer . Could they all be the handiwork of one guy searching for his next rush? Kathy’s insight made him doubt his previous certainty.

And if it is one killer….

Sounds from the hallway filtered through the door, and Dan wasn’t surprised when Gary broke the embrace.

“Sure, we can do that.”

It took Dan a second or two to retrace the steps of the conversation.

“I also think we should talk to Sean Nichols again,” Gary continued. “He might have more information too. You know, from when he and Brad dated.” He took a deep breath. “Okay, enough talk of family. Let’s do some work, okay?”

Dan nodded. He grabbed the folder Barry had brought and read aloud from it.

“Scott McCarthy, aged twenty-two at time of death. Father—Owen McCarthy. Owen was a self-made man who formed his first company when he was twenty-four. Created an empire of businesses. Mother died when Scott was small. Owen remarried, a widow, Marie Collins, with a son, Gregory, the same age as Scott.” He jerked his head up.

“Greg Collins who was at the ball. It has to be. Okay, that’s interesting. ”

Gary walked over to the board and studied the crime-scene photo. “Where was he found?”

Dan scanned the report. “In the bathtub of a show condo. I pity the prospective buyers who walked in on this.”

“What interests me are these.” Gary pointed to some large tubs of lye that sat around the bath. “What are they doing there?”

“No idea. Scott was found dressed in running gear. Apparently he went running every morning, following one of two circuits around Boston. His father said he’d gone out that morning—Friday, January 13—at dawn, around seven, and didn’t come back.

His body was found later Friday morning, when someone showed up at the show condo of Reservoir Towers with—” He grimaced.

“—a couple of prospective buyers. Autopsy stated he’d died in the early hours of that morning. ”

Gary frowned. “Anything in the report about who stood to gain from his death?”

Dan scanned the notes once more. “No one. Reports at the time of death suggest he was a good guy, philanthropic, helped out at shelters, worked at camps for deprived kids…. There seems to be no reason why anyone should want him dead.”

Gary snorted. “Well, someone did.”

Dan found the autopsy report. “There were traces of ketamine in his system, enough to render him unconscious, the pathologist said.”

“Maybe the killer didn’t want Scott to feel any pain when they smashed his face in with an ax.” Gary grimaced. “How thoughtful.”

“What I want to know is why they used an ax in the first place. Or left tubs of lye standing by the bath.” Dan stared at the photo.

Gary chuckled. “You’re sounding more like a detective every day, you know that?”

“I figure it has to mean something.”

“Well, if it does, I can’t think what. How about you? Any ideas?”

“Not yet. Except one.” Dan shivered. “The killer left an ax where Scott’s smile should be.”