Body Double: A Rizzoli & Isles Novel

a moment, studying the map. “What was the time cycle again? How long did it take to complete that circuit?”
    “That time, it took three and a half years to circle the country,” said Rizzoli.
    “A leisurely pace.”
    “Yeah. But notice how it never stays in one state for long, never harvests too many victims in a single area. It just keeps moving, so the authorities never see the pattern, never realize it’s been going on for years and years.”
    “What?” O’Donnell turned. “The cycle repeats?”
    Rizzoli nodded. “It starts all over again, retracing the same route. The way old nomadic tribes used to follow the buffalo herds.”
    “Authorities never noticed the pattern?”
    “Because these hunters never stop moving. Different states, different jurisdictions. A few months in one region and then they’re gone. Onto the next hunting ground. Places they return to again and again.”
    “Familiar territory.”
    “
Where we go depends upon where we know. And where we know depends upon where we go,
” Rizzoli said, quoting one of the principles of geographic criminal profiling.
    “Have any bodies turned up?”
    “None of these have. These are the cases that remain open.”
    “So they must have burial caches. Places to conceal victims, dispose of bodies.”
    “We’re assuming they’d be out-of-the-way places,” said Frost. “Rural areas, or bodies of water. Since none of these women have been found.”
    “But they found Nikki and Theresa Wells,” said O’Donnell. “Those bodies weren’t buried, but burned.”
    “The sisters were found November twenty-fifth. We went back and checked the weather records. There was an unexpected snowstorm that week—eighteen inches fell in a single day. It took Massachusetts by surprise, closing down a number of roads. Maybe they couldn’t get to their usual burial spot.”
    “And that’s why they burned the bodies?”
    “As you pointed out, the vanishings seem to move with the weather,” said Rizzoli. “As it turns cold, they head south. But that November, New England was caught by surprise. No one expected such an early snowfall.” She turned to O’Donnell. “There’s your Beast. Those are his footprints on that map. I think Amalthea was with him every step of the way.”
    “What are you asking me to do, a psychological profile? Explain why they killed?”
    “We know why they did it. They weren’t killing for pleasure, or for thrills. These are not your usual serial killers.”
    “Then what was their motive?”
    “Absolutely mundane, Dr. O’Donnell. In fact, their motive is probably boring to a monster hunter like you.”
    “I don’t find murder boring in the least. Why do you think they killed?”
    “Did you know there are no employment records for either Amalthea or Elijah? We can’t find any evidence that either of them held down a job or paid into Social Security, or filed an income tax report. They owned no credit cards, had no bank accounts. For decades, they were invisible people, living on the outermost fringes of society. So how did they eat? How did they pay for food and gas and lodging?”
    “Cash, I assume.”
    “But where does the cash come from?” Rizzoli turned to the map. “That’s how they made their living.”
    “I don’t follow you.”
    “Some people catch fish, some people pick apples. Amalthea and her partner were harvesters, too.” She looked at O’Donnell. “Forty years ago, Amalthea sold two newborn daughters to adoptive parents. She was paid forty thousand dollars for those babies. I don’t think they were hers to give.”
    O’Donnell frowned. “Are you talking about Dr. Isles and her sister?”
    “Yes.” Rizzoli felt a twinge of satisfaction when she saw O’Donnell’s stunned expression. This woman had no idea what she was dealing with, thought Rizzoli. The psychiatrist who so regularly consorts with monsters has been taken by surprise.
    “I examined Amalthea,” said O’Donnell. “I concurred with the other psychiatrists—”
    “That she was psychotic?”
    “Yes.” O’Donnell released a sharp breath. “What you’re showing me here—this is a different creature entirely.”
    “Not insane.”
    “I don’t know. I don’t know what she is.”
    “She and her cousin killed for money. For cold hard cash. That sounds a lot like sanity to me.”
    “Possibly . . .”
    “You get along with murderers, Dr. O’Donnell. You talk to them, spend hours with people like Warren Hoyt.” Rizzoli