Fair Game

on…”
    Charles let the man’s voice drift; he’d remember what Agent Goldstein said later if he needed to. For now he concentrated on the faces, looking for clues, for people he had known, for victims who were pack.
    The first year their killer took four girls, each a week apart. Asian and young, none over sixteen or under twelve. He kept them and raped and tortured them until he was ready to take the next victim. The FBIthought he killed one victim just before he took the next—though there was some possible overlap. As soon as hunting season was over, he stopped. The first year was Vermont, the second was Maine, where he stayed for a few years, then Michigan, Texas, and Oklahoma.
    Organized, thought Brother Wolf, ratcheting up for the chase. A good hunter took only what he needed when he needed it, and their prey was a good hunter. The killer’s victims changed gradually through the years, Asian girls and women and then, in Texas, a teenaged boy who was also Asian. The boy was the first victim who was sodomized, but after him they all were, male and female alike. The next year after that his prey was split two and two, women and boys. Then only boys. After that he added a black teenaged girl.
    “It’s like he’s searching for the perfect meal,” said Anna softly—and got an appalled glance from Dr. Singh that Charles didn’t think she saw; her attention was fixed on the screen. “He started in ‘seventy-five. Maybe he was a Vietnam vet?”
    “The Asian victims, yes,” said the senior FBI agent, looking even more frail than before. “They weren’t all Vietnamese, or even mostly. But some people can’t see the difference, or don’t care. The police already had that theory before the first time the FBI was brought into it in the early eighties. The UNSUB wouldn’t be the only one to come out of that mess with a need to kill.”
    “‘These are the times that try men’s souls,’” quoted Anna in a soft voice, and Charles knew she was remembering another veteran warrior.
    “It took more than five years for the FBI to get involved?” asked Heuter.
    Goldstein gave the Cantrip agent a patient look. “Nearer to ten. First, it took a while for the police to figure out they had a serial killer, communication being what it was. Second, the FBI is not in charge of serial-killercases. We are support staff, not primary.” He hit a button and a new photo came up.
    “Here’s where we came in, the FBI—it was before my time. I first hit this case as a rookie in 2000. In 1984, the Big Game Hunter was back in Maine. This is the first victim that year, Melissa Snow, age eighteen.”
    Charles recognized her—and she hadn’t been eighteen. The next victim was a black boy, a stranger. He didn’t know the third victim, another Asian girl. This one was ten.
    Brother Wolf decided, looking at the delicate joyful face, that they would find the killer and destroy him. Children should be protected. Charles agreed, and the ghosts of the unjustly executed who haunted him withdrew further.
    “Those were the only three victims that we found that year, and after this year the number of bodies we found started to vary. In 1986 and ‘87, we found three bodies. In 1989, there were two. In 1990, three bodies again, and so on until 2000, when several things changed, but I’ll get there in a minute. We don’t think that he’s changed how he kills. That one week interval between the first victim and the next seems pretty set. So we think he began putting the bodies in less accessible places.”
    In the next year’s group of victims, Charles recognized two of the three. He also noted that the crime scene photos were of better quality—a sign of the FBI bringing in a better photographer, he thought, or just a combination of the advance of technology and the way time degraded color film.
    Goldstein commented, “In 1984, two of the victims matched our UNSUB’s previous victim choice. From 1985 on out, there are no apparent patterns to the victims. Men and women, young and old. He’s still kidnapping, raping, and torturing them for a week before going after the next victim.” Hetook his time, showing them each victim’s face. Charles noticed that Goldstein never had to consult his notes for the names, and that when he did go to his notes, it was usually to confirm something he’d just said. “The next year he started in September.”
    Charles knew three of the victims in 1985 and all of the bodies found in