Every Dead Thing

Rachel shook her head. “I’m still working on it. The face appears to be some form of token for him. Jennifer’s was returned because she died before he could start working on her, I’d guess, but also because he wanted to shock you personally. The removal could also indicate the killer’s disregard for them as individuals, a sign of his disregard for their own status as people. After all, when you remove a person’s face, you take away the most immediate representation of their individuality, their main physical distinguisher.

“As for the eyes, there is a myth that the image of the killer stays on the retina of the victim. There were lots of myths like that attached to the body. Even at the start of the last century, some scientists were still examining the theory that a murder victim’s body bled when it was in the same room as its killer. I need to do more work on it, then we’ll see.”

She stood up and stretched. “I don’t mean to sound callous, but now I want to take a shower. Then I want to go out and get something decent to eat. After that, I want to sleep for twelve hours.”

Angel, Louis, and I started to leave but she held up her hand to stop us. “There’s just one more thing. I don’t want to give the impression that this is just some freak copying violent images. I don’t know enough about this to make that kind of judgment and I want to consult some people who are more experienced in this area than I am. But I can’t help feeling that there’s some underlying philosophy behind what he’s doing, some pattern that he’s following. Until we find out what that is, I don’t think we’re going to catch him.”

I had my hand on the door handle when there was a knock at the door. I opened it slowly and blocked the view of the room with my body while Rachel cleared away her papers. Woolrich stood before me. In the light from the room, I noticed a thin growth of beard was forming on his face. “Clerk told me you might be here if you weren’t in your own room. Can I come in?”

I paused for a moment, then stepped aside. I noticed that Rachel was standing in front of the material on the wall, obscuring it from view, but Woolrich wasn’t interested in her. His eyes had fixed on Louis.

“I know you,” he said.

“I don’t think so,” said Louis. His eyes were cold.

Woolrich turned to me. “You bringing your hired killers to my town, Bird?”

I didn’t reply.

“Like I said, man, I think you’re making a mistake,” said Louis. “I’m a businessman.”

“Really? And what kind of business would you be in?”

“ Pest control,” said Louis.

The air seemed to crackle with tension, until Woolrich turned around and walked from the room. He stopped in the hall and gestured to me. “I need to talk to you. I’ll wait for you in the Café du Monde.”

I watched him go, then looked at Louis. He raised an eyebrow. “Guess I’m more famous than I thought.”

“Guess you are,” I said, and went after Woolrich.

I caught up with him on the street but he said nothing until we were seated and he had a beignet in front of him. He tore off a piece, sprinkling powdered sugar on his suit, then took a long gulp of coffee, which half drained the cup and left a brown stain along its sides. “C’mon, Bird,” he said. “What are you trying to do here?” He sounded weary and disappointed. “That guy, I know his face. I know what he is.” He chewed another piece of beignet.

I didn’t reply. We stared at each other until Woolrich looked away. He dusted sugar from his fingers and ordered another coffee. I had hardly touched mine.

“Does the name Edward Byron mean anything to you?” he said eventually, when he realized that Louis was not going to be a topic of discussion.

“It doesn’t ring any bells. Why?”

“He was a janitor in Park Rise. That’s where Susan had Jennifer, right?”

“Right.” Park Rise was a private hospital on Long Island. Susan’s father had insisted that we use it, arguing that its staff were among the best in the world. They were certainly among the best paid. The doctor who delivered Jennifer earned more in a month than I made in a year.

“Where’s this leading?” I asked.

“Byron was let go-quietly-following the mutilation of a corpse earlier this year. Someone performed an unauthorized autopsy on a female body. Her abdomen was opened and her ovaries and Fallopian tubes removed.”

“No charges were pressed?”