Criminal

That way, you can make sure you’ve got the right guy and not some nut looking for a headline in the newspaper.”
    Amanda didn’t see a scenario where she would be catching any perpetrator. She wasn’t even sure why Pete was answering her questions. “But why would the killer give details of the crime? That would just make the case against him stronger.”
    “He won’t realize he’s walking into the trap you set.” Pete told her, “You are a lot smarter than he is. Your perpetrator is a man who cannot control himself.”
    Amanda considered the statement, which didn’t strike her as wholly true. “He was smart enough to try to cover the crime.”
    “Not as smart as you think. Throwing her off the roof was risky. It called attention to the crime. It opened up the possibility of witnesses. Why not leave her in the apartment and let a neighbor report the smell a few days—weeks—later?”
    He was right. Amanda remembered the Manson murders, the way the bodies were posed. “Do you think the killer was sending a message?”
    “Possibly,” Pete allowed. “We can also assume that he knew the victim fairly well.”
    “Why do you say that?”
    Pete gripped his hands around the top of the sheet. “Remember to breathe.” He pulled away the covering, exposing the rest of the body.
    Amanda put her hand to her mouth. Nothing rushed up her throat. She didn’t pass out. She wasn’t even woozy. As with Roz Levy’s photos, she expected a violent reaction inside her body but was met instead with steely resolve. That same locking sensation from Techwood ran up Amanda’s spine. Her stomach actually stopped churning. Instead of fainting, she felt her vision sharpen.
    Amanda had never seen another woman entirely nude before. There was something sad about the way her breasts hung to the side. Her stomach was saggy. Her pubic hair was short, as if it had been trimmed, but the hair on her thighs was grotesquely unshaven. Blood and viscera leaked between her legs. Her body had been pummeled. Bruises blackened her stomach and ribs.
    Pete said, “In order to hurt somebody like this, you have to hate them. And hate does not come without familiarity. Just ask my ex-wife. She tried to strangle me once.”
    Amanda glanced up at him. There was no suggestion behind his smile. He wasn’t just creepy, he was downright strange. And polite. Amanda could not recall the last conversation she’d had with a man where she wasn’t constantly interrupted or talked over.
    Pete said, “You could be very good at this.”
    Amanda didn’t know if that was much to write home about. It certainly wasn’t conversation for the dinner table. “Can you tell me anything about the nail polish?”
    He took a latex glove out of his pocket. “Why don’t you tell me?”
    Amanda didn’t want to, but she took the glove. She tried to shove her hand into the stiff latex.
    “Wipe your palm first,” Pete advised.
    Amanda wiped her sweaty hand on her skirt. The glove was still a tight fit, but once she managed to force her fingers into the tips, the rest of her hand easily followed.
    Gently, she reached out for Lucy’s hand. The skin felt cold through the glove, or maybe Amanda was just imagining that. Instead of being limp, the body was stiff.
    “Rigor mortis,” Pete explained. “The skeletal muscles contract, locking the joints. Onset varies depending on temperature and lesser factors. It starts in as little as ten minutes and lasts for up to seventy-two hours.”
    “You can tell how long she’s been dead by how stiff she is.”
    “Precisely,” he confirmed. “By the time I got to our victim yesterday afternoon, she had been dead approximately three to six hours.”
    “That’s quite a window.”
    “Science is not as precise as we’d like to believe.”
    Amanda tried to turn the arm. It wouldn’t move.
    “Don’t worry about being gentle. She can’t feel pain anymore.”
    Amanda heard the sound of her throat working as she swallowed. She wrenched up the arm. There was a loud popping sound that sent a knife into Amanda’s chest.
    “Breathe in and out,” Pete advised. “Remember, it’s just tissue and bone.”
    Amanda swallowed again. The sound echoed in the room. She looked at Lucy Bennett’s fingers. “There’s something under her fingernails.”
    “Very good catch.” He went over to the cabinet in the corner. “We can send it to the lab for analysis.”
    Amanda wished she had Roz Levy’s magnifying glass. It wasn’t