aYou got it. Weave checked his files at Richmond P.D., the State Police, and the FBI. Thatas every jurisdiction that should have them. No cards. Then I contacted Donahue at the pen to see if I could track down Waddellas personal effects; such as books, letters, hairbrush, toothbrush - anything that might be a source for latent prints. And guess what? Donahue says the only things Waddellas mother wanted were his watch and ring. Everything else Corrections destroyed."

I sat heavily on the edge of the bed.

"And I saved the best for last, Doc. Firearms. .h.i.t paydirt and you ainat going to believe it. The bullets recovered from Eddie Heath and Susan Story was fired from the same gun, a twenty-two."

"Dear G.o.d," I said.

Downstairs in the Homestead Club, a band was playing jazz, but the audience was small and the music was not too loud to talk over. Connie had taken Lucy to a movie, leaving Wesley and me at a table in a deserted corner of the dance floor. Both of us were sipping cognac. He did not seem as physically tired as I was, but tension had returned to his face.

Reaching behind him, he took another candle from an unoccupied table and set it by two others he had claimed. The light was unsteady but adequate, and though we did not get long stares from guests, we did get glances. I supposed it seemed a strange place to work, but the lobby and dining room were not private enough, and Wesley was much too circ.u.mspect to suggest we meet in his room or mine.

"There would seem to be a number of conflicting elements here," he said. "But human behavior is not set in stone. Waddell was in prison for ten years. We donat know how he might have changed. I would categorize Eddie Heathas murder as a s.e.xually motivated homicide while, at first glance, Susan Storyas homicide appears to be an execution, a hit."

"As if two different perpetrators are involved," I said, toying with my cognac.

He leaned forward, idly flipping through Robyn Naismithas case file. "Itas interesting," he said, without looking up. "You hear so much about modus operandi, about the offenderas signature. He always selects this type of victim or chooses this sort of location and prefers knives and so on. But, in fact, this isnat always the case. Nor is the emotion of the crime always obvious. I said that Susan Storyas homicide, at first glance, does not appear to be s.e.xually motivated. But the more Iave thought about it the more I believe there is a s.e.xual component. I think this killer is into piquerism."

"Robyn Naismith was stabbed multiple times," I said. "Yes. Iad say that what was done to her is a textbook example. There was no evidence of rape - not that this means it didnat occur. But no s.e.m.e.n. The repeated Plunging of the knife in her abdomen, b.u.t.tocks, and b.r.e.a.s.t.s was a subst.i.tute for penile penetration. Obvious piquerism. Biting is less obvious, not at all related to any components of the s.e.xual act, it is my opinion, but again a subst.i.tute for penile penetration. Teeth sinking into flesh, cannibalism, like John Joubert did to the news delivery boys he murdered in Nebraska. Then we have bullets. You would not a.s.sociate shootings with piquerism unless you thought about it for a moment. Then the dynamics, in some instances, become clear. Something penetrating flesh. That was the Son of Samas thing."

"Thereas no evidence of piquerism in Jennifer Deightonas death."

"True. This goes back to what I was saying. There isna't always a clear pattern. Certainly, weare not talking about a clear pattern here, but there is one element that the murders of Eddie Heath, Jennifer Deighton, and Susan Story have in common. I would cla.s.sify the crimes as organized."

"Not as organized with Jennifer Deighton," I pointed out "It appears the killer attempted to disguise her death as a suicide and failed. Or perhaps he did not intend to kill her at all and got carried away with a choke hold."

"Her death before she was placed inside her car probably wasnat the plan," Wesley agreed. "But the fact is, it appears there was a plan. And the garden hose hooked up to the exhaust pipe was severed with a sharp tool that was never recovered. Either the killer brought his own tool or weapon to the scene, or he deposed of whatever it was he found at her house and used. Thatas organized behavior. But before we go too far with this, let me remind you that we donat have a twenty-two bullet or other piece of evidence that might link Jennifer Deightonas homicide with the homicides of the Heath boy and Susan."

"I think we do, Benton. Ronnie Waddellas print was recovered from a dining room chair inside Jennifer Deightonas house."

"We donat know that it was Ronnie Waddell who pumped slugs into the other two."

"Eddie Heathas body was positioned in a manner reminiscent of Robyn Naismithas case. The boy was attacked &e night Ronnie Waddell was to be executed. Donat you thereas some weird thread here?"

"Letas put it this way," he said. "I donat want to think it."

"Neither of us wants to. Benton, whatas your gut feel He motioned for the waitress to bring more cognac, candlelight illuminating the clean lines of his left cheek bone and chin.

"My gut feeling? Okay. I have a very bad gut feeling about all of this," he said. "I believe Ronnie Waddell is the common denominator, but I donat know what that means. A latent print recently found at a scene was identified as his, yet we canat locate his ten print cards or anything else that might effect a positive identification.

He also wasnat printed at the morgue, and the person who allegedly forgot to do so has since been murdered with the same gun used on Eddie Heath. Waddellas legal counsel, Nick Grueman, apparently knew Jennifer Deighton, and in fact, it appears she faxed a message to Grueman days before she was murdered. Finally, yes, there is a subtle and peculiar similarity between Eddie Heathas and Robyn Naismithas deaths. Frankly, I canat help but wonder if the attack on Heath wasnat, for some reason, intended to be symbolic."

He waited until our drinks had been set before us, then opened a manila envelope that was attached to Robyn Naismithas case. That small act triggered something I had not thought of before.

"I had to get her photographs from Archives," I said.

Wesley glanced at me as he slipped on his gla.s.ses.

"In cases this old, the paper records have been reduced to microfilm, the printouts of which are in the file youave got. The original doc.u.ments are destroyed, but we keep the original photos. They go to Archives."

"Which is what? A room in your building?"

"No, Benton. A warehouse near the state library - the same warehouse where the Bureau of Forensic Science stores evidence from its old cases."

"Vander still hasnat found the photograph of the b.l.o.o.d.y thumbprint Waddell left inside Robyn Naismithas house?"

"No," I said as Wesley met my eyes. We both knew that Vander was never going to find it.

"Christ," he said. "Who retrieved Robyn Naismithas photos for you?"

"My administrator," I replied. "Ben Stevens. He made a trip to Archives a week or so before Waddellas execution."

"Why?"

"During the final stages of the appeals process, there are always a lot of questions asked and I like to have ready, access to the case or cases involved. So a trip to Archives is routine. Whatas a little different in the instance weare talking about is I didnat have to ask Stevens to get the photos from Archives. He volunteered."

"And thatas unusual?"

"In retrospect, I must admit that it is."

"The implication," Wesley said, "is that your administrator may have volunteered because what he was really interested in was Waddellas file - or more specifically, the photograph of the b.l.o.o.d.y thumbprint thatas supposed to be inside it."

"All I can say with certainty is if Stevens wanted to tamper with a file in Archives, he couldnat do so unless he had legitimate reason for visiting Archives. If, for example, it came back to me that he had been there when none of the medical examiners had made a request, it would look odd."

I went on to tell Wesley about the breach of security in my office computer, explaining that the two terminals involved were a.s.signed to me and Stevens. While I talked, Wesley took notes. When I fell silent he looked up at me.

"It doesnat sound as if they found what they were looking for," he said.

"My suspicion is that they didnat."

"That brings us around to the obvious question. What were they looking for?"

I slowly swirled my cognac. In the candlelight it was liquid amber, and each sip deliciously burned going down. "Maybe something pertaining to Eddie Heathas death. I was looking for any other cases in which victims may have had bite marks or cannibalistic-type injuries, and had a file in my directory. Beyond that, I canat imagine what anyone might have been looking for."

"Do you ever keep intradepartmental memos in your directory?"

"In word processing, a subdirectory."

"Same pa.s.sword to access those doc.u.ments?"

"Yes."

"And in word processing you would store autopsy reports and other doc.u.ments pertaining to cases?"

"I would. But at the time my directory was broken into there wasnat anything sensitive on file that I can think of."

"But whoever broke in didnat necessarily know that."

"Obviously not," I said.

"What about Ronnie Waddellas autopsy report, Kay? When your directory was broken into, was his report in the computer?"

"It would have been. He was executed Monday, December thirteenth. The breakin occurred late on the afternoon of Thursday, December sixteenth, while I was doing Eddie Heathas post and Susan was upstairs in my office, supposedly resting on the couch after the formalin spill."

"Perplexing."

He frowned. "a.s.suming Susan is the one who went into your directory, why would she be interested in Waddellas autopsy report - if thatas what this is all about? She was present during his autopsy. What could she have read in your report that she wouldnat have already known?"

"Nothing I can think of."

"Well, let me rephrase that. What pertaining to his autopsy would she not have learned from being present the night his body was brought to the morgue? Or maybe Iad better say the night a body was brought to the morgue, since weare no longer so sure this individual was Waddell," he added grimly.

"She wouldnat have had access to lab reports," I said. "But the lab work wouldnat have been completed by the time my directory was broken into. Tox and HIV screens, for example, take weeks."

"And Susan would have known that."

"Certainly."

"So would your administrator."

"Absolutely."

"There must be something else," he said.

There was, but as it came to mind I could not imagine the significance.

"Waddell - or whoever the inmate was - had an envelope in the back pocket of his jeans that he wanted buried with him. Fielding wouldnat have opened this envelope until he had gone upstairs with his paperwork after the post."

"So Susan couldnat have known what was inside the envelope while she was in the morgue that night?"

Wesley asked with interest.

"Thatas right. She couldnat have."

"And was there anything of significance inside this envelope?"

"There was nothing inside but several receipts for food and tolls."

Wesley frowned. "Receipts," he repeated. "What in G.o.das name would he have been doing with those? Do you have them here?"

"Theyare in his file."

I got out the photocopies. "The dates are all the same, November thirtieth."

"Which should have been about the time Waddell was transported from Mecklenburg to Richmond."

"Thatas right. He was transported fifteen days before his execution," I said.

"We need to run down the codes on these receipts, see what locations we get. This may be important. Very important, in light of what weare contemplating."

"That Waddell is alive?"

"Yes. That somehow a switch was made and he was released. Maybe the man who went to the chair wanted these receipts in his pocket when he died because he was trying to tell us something."

"Where would he have gotten them?"

"Perhaps during the transport from Mecklenburg to Richmond, which would have been an ideal time to pull something," Wesley replied. "Maybe two men were transported, Waddell and someone else."

"Youare suggesting they stopped for food?"

"Guards arenat supposed to stop for anything while transporting a death row inmate. But if some conspiracy were involved, anything could have happened. Maybe they stopped and got take-out food, and it was during this interval that Waddell was freed. Then the other inmate was taken onto Richmond and put in Waddellas cell. Think about it. How would any of the guards or anybody else at Spring Street have any way of knowing the inmate brought in wasnat Waddell?"

"He might say he wasnat, but that doesnat mean that anyone would have listened."

"I suspect they wouldnat have listened."

"What about Waddellas mother?"

I asked. "Supposedly, she had a contact visit with him hours before the execution. Certainly, she would know B the inmate she saw was not her son."

"We need to verify that the contact visit occurred .But whether it did or didnat, it would have been to Mrs. Waddellas benefit to go along with any scheme. I donat imagine she wanted her son to die."

"Then youare convinced that the wrong man was executed, "I said reluctantly, for there were few theories, at the moment, that I more wanted to disprove.

His answer was to open the envelope containing Robyn Naismithas photographs and slide out a thick stack of color prints that would continue to shock me no matter how many times I looked at them. He slowly shuffled through the pictorial history of her terrible death.

Then he said, "When we consider the three homicides tha thave just occurred, Waddell doesnat profile right."

"What are you saying, Benton? That after ten years in prison his personality changed?"

"All I can say to you is that Iave heard of organized killers decompensating, flying apart. They begin to make mistakes. Bundy, for example. Toward the end he became frenzied. But what you generally donat see is a disorganized individual swinging the other way, the psychotic person becoming methodical, rational becoming organized."

When Wesley alluded to the Bundys and Son of Sams in the world, he did so theoretically, impersonally, as if his a.n.a.lyses and theories were formulated from secondary sources. He did not brag. He did not name-drop or a.s.sume the role of one who knew these criminal personally. His demeanor, therefore, was deliberately misleading.

He had, in fact, spent long, intimate hours with the likes of Theodore Bundy, David Berkowitz, Sirhan Sfrhan, Richard Speck, and Charles Manson, in addition to the lesser-known black holes who had sucked light from the planet Earth. I remembered Marino telling me once that when Wesley returned from some of these pilgrimages into maximum-security penitentiaries, he would look pale and drained. It almost made him physically ill to absorb the poison of these men and endure the attachments they inevitably formed to him. Some of the worst s.a.d.i.s.ts in recent history regularly wrote letters to him, sent Christmas cards, and inquired after his family. It was no small wonder that Wesley seemed like a man with a heavy burden and so often was silent. In exchange for information, he did the one thing that not one of us wants to do. He allowed the monster to connect with him.

"Was it determined that Waddell was psychotic?" I asked.

"It was determined that he was sane when he Murdered Robyn Naismith."

Wesley pulled out a photograph and slid it across the table to me. "But frankly, I donat think he was."

The photograph was the one I remembered most vividly, and as I studied it I could not imagine an unsuspecting soul walking in on such a scene.

Robyn Naismithas living room did not have much fur niture, just several barrel chairs with dark green cushions and a chocolate-brown leather couch. A small Bakhara rug was in the middle of the parquet floor, the calls wide planks stained to look like cherry or mahogany. A console television was against the wall directly across from the front door, affording whoever sintered a full frontal view of Ronnie Joe Waddellas horrible artistry.

What Robynas friend had seen the instant she unlocked the door and pushed it open as she called out Robynas name was a nude body sitting on the floor, back propped against the TV, skin so streaked and smeared ' with dried blood that the exact nature of the injuries could not be determined until later at the morgue. In the photograph, coagulating blood pooled around Robynas b.u.t.tocks looked like red tinted tar, and tossed nearby were several b.l.o.o.d.y towels. The weapon was never found, though police did determine that a German made stainless steel steak knife was missing from a set hanging in the kitchen, and the characteristics of the blade were consistent with her wounds.

Opening Eddie Heaths file folder, Wesley withdrew a scene diagram drawn by the Henrico County police officer who had discovered the critically wounded boy behind the vacant grocery store. Wesley placed the diagram next to the photograph of Robyn Naismith. For a moment, neither of us spoke as our eyes went back and forth from one to the other. The similarities were more p.r.o.nounced than I had imagined, the positions of the bodies virtually identical, from the hands by the sides to the loosely piled clothing near the bare feet.