Deception (Southern Comfort) (15 page)

“Yeah,” Josh was disgusted.  “He did.”

“That sort of action shows both arrogance and contempt.  This man has a high opinion of himself, and he hates women and what they represent.”

“Women in general,” Josh asked, as he pushed his food aside.  There was no way he could discuss this and have an appetite, no matter how good it smelled.  “Or this woman in particular?”

Clay considered, taking another bite of food.  He’d seen so much worse in his career that probably nothing messed with his appetite by now.  “Well, based solely on what I’ve seen from these photos, I’d lean more toward generalities.  This behavior – breaking and entering, targeting a woman’s intimate things – is a fairly common precursor to rape amongst sexual predators.  Peeping Toms, voyeurs, burglars, rapists – there’s a thread of obsessive personality that links them.  The lesser offenses are stepping stones to rape and murder.”  He studied one of the photos of the lingerie again.  “The extreme damage done to her personal items in this case shows that this is a man with a great deal of anger toward women.  This has been building in him for a
while, and I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s done this before.  You may want to look at previous offenders, maybe someone with a record for voyeurism or B and E, but I’m sure you’re already on that.  As to the way he trashed the rest of the place, I’d also say he has a tenuous hold on his control.  He doesn’t like being thwarted, and he’s angry about not getting his way.”

“So do you think this guy’s a disorganized offender – aren’t they the ones who strike randomly with a blitz style attack?  Lose control of themselves at the scene?  Or was it possible he was hopped up on drugs?”

Clay looked at the photos again.  “Did you find any evidence that he used something at the scene to slice up her clothing?  Or the cushions on the sofa?”

“No.”  Josh scratched his head.  “The victim’s knives were all in the dish washer, which she’d run that morning, and the dishwasher was still locked.  And even if it hadn’t been I don’t think the knives she had available would have gotten the job done.”

“How about scissors?” Clay wondered.

“The only pair she has she keeps in her purse.  They’re the little kind, like you find in sewing kits.  And she had her purse with her.”

“So the perp brought his implement with him.”

“That’s what I was thinking.”

“How about prints?  Any evidence that he wore gloves?”

“The results aren’t back yet, but there really weren’t a lot of prints in that apartment.  It had been cleaned recently, and I’m betting we’re not going to find much.”

Clay looked up at him with a raised brow, lips twitching into a lopsided grin.  “So then you already figured this guy’s not disorganized.”

“I suspected,” Josh admitted.  “But I wanted to get your opinion.”

Clay dropped his gaze to the photos.  “You know, there almost seems to be a method to the madness.  You see how the cabinets and drawers are all uniformly ransacked, the sofa bed not only opened but each cushion sliced precisely?  It’s like he was looking for something, but grew frustrated when he didn’t find it.  That hole in the plaster?”  He pointed to a photo.  “Looks like it was made by a fist.  So he lashes out, but when that failed to satisfy him, he directed his frustration toward the woman, vicariously through her belongings.”

That observation threw Josh.  “Looking for what?” he wondered.

“That, I can’t answer.  If he’s been peeping on her previously, maybe he had a specific item of hers that he intended to break in to take – something that fueled his fantasy.  Maybe he was frustrated when he couldn’t find it.  Hell, it could have been a particular pair of panties that he’d seen her wearing, and that’s why he shredded all of the others.  He was angry that they weren’t there.”

“Would he be looking for the underwear in the cabinets?”  That didn’t make a lot of sense.

Clay shrugged.  “If this guy has been fantasizing about this woman for a while, mapping out a plan for his attack, he could possibly feel that it’s a game between them, that maybe she hid the underwear – or whatever – from him on purpose.  Taunting him, if you will.  Now normally, that sort of behavior is more typical of stalkers or what we call power reassurance rapists – the guys who create a sort of imaginary relationship with the victim – than of men who are so filled with contempt that they urinate at the scene.  That’s more typical of an anger-retaliatory or exploitative rapist, who spend little time fantasizing beforehand, but strike when the opportunity presents itself, with the goal of dominating and humiliating the victim.  Urinating on the woman after or during the course of the attack is fairly common.”

Josh felt like throwing up.  If Sam had been home…

But he had to approach this like a professional, or he’d miss something important.  “This woman received a package the night prior to the attack.”  He reached over, pointed to the photo of the negligee.  “This article of lingerie arrived on her doorstep, hand delivered, no note or return address.  The box was covered in plain brown paper, with nothing more than her name on it, but it came from Intimate Expressions.  That’s a –”

“I know what it is,” Clay interrupted, a grin lighting his face.  “Tate got a few… items from there for her bridal shower.  They made up for the coffee pot and toaster.”

Recognizing the look of a well-satisfied man and thinking of Sam back at his condo, Josh shifted uncomfortably in his seat.  He’d been trying to avoid imagining Sam in that negligee, and this conversation was definitely not helping.  “So,” he said a little gruffly “I was wondering if you thought there could be some connection between the mysterious gift and the B and E.”

Amused, Clay scooped up the last of his lunch.  “Well, gift-giving is an entirely different ballgame from typical rapist behavior.  It’s one of the hallmarks of a stalker.  It’s an attempt to insinuate himself into his target’s life.  Does this, uh, woman have an ex-lover who may have been abusive or domineering?”

Josh could’ve kicked himself for overlooking Collin.  “She was involved in an emotionally volatile relationship about a decade ago,” he admitted.  “The man,” asshole “was very controlling.  Demeaned her to keep her in line.  He was verbally and emotionally abusive.”  Josh had heard it for himself.  In fact, it was one of the first times he’d ever spoken to Sam.  She’d been modeling for his life drawing class for about a week, and he’d been tongue-tied and smitten since the moment he saw her.  He’d worked up the courage to ask her out, and followed her from the building after class.  She’d met up with an older man, and Josh overheard a piece of their conversation.

“Did you like letting them look at you?” the man asked derisively.  “Did it make you hot?”

“Shut up, Collin.”  Sam had pulled her arm from his grip.  “You were the one who suggested I take the job, so why are you making me feel like shit?”

“Because you are shit,” he told her.  “But lucky for you, you’re shit with a good body.  If you hadn’t taken a job where you could use your only asset, I’d be supporting your ass again.  God knows you’re too stupid to take care of yourself.”  Then he’d grabbed her arm again, tightly, fingers biting into her arm.  Sam winced, and Josh had almost gone to help her.  But she’d turned, caught a glimpse of him, her face ashen with humiliation.  So he’d pretended that he hadn’t overheard, but after that he’d watched her like a hawk.  When she was modeling for the class, he’d been able to peruse her body.  He never saw any signs of physical violence, which was lucky for both him and Collin.  Because if Josh thought the man had ever raised his h
and to Sam, he would have beat him within an inch of his life.

As it stood, Josh realized that the best approach was to befriend Samantha slowly, and convince her that she deserved better.  By the time the semester was over, Sam was on the verge of leaving Collin and had regained some of her self-worth.  Josh had been waiting until she’d had time to heal before he made a move in a romantic direction, but Sam had up and left before anything could happen.  He knew it had been the right decision not to push or take advantage of her vulnerability, but he still kicked himself for letting her get away. 

And now, he’d finally found her again and they were right back where they’d started.  A domineering asshole was trying to ruin Sam’s life, but this time, it wasn’t going to happen.  Not only was he not going to let Sam slip away again, but Sam herself was much stronger. 

“Josh?”  Clay snapped his fingers in front of him.  “You still with me?”

“I’m sorry.”  Josh blinked.  “What was I saying?”

“You were saying that this
…
woman
had an abusive ex.”

Okay, so Clay wasn’t stupid.  “I’ll have to remember never to play poker with you or Chris Sullivan.  How long have you known this was about Sam?”

“I suspected as much when you called me.  By that point I already knew she’d moved into your apartment.  And since you called me to set up lunch rather than running home to be with her, I figured you had her there not so much for amorous reasons as for safety precautions.  When you couldn’t eat while we talked about this, I knew for certain it was personal.  But for the record, your poker face wasn’t half bad.”

“Gee, thanks.”  Josh blew out a semi-amused breath.  “Damn, Copeland.  You’re good.”

“That’s what Tate tells me every night.  But seriously, Josh, about this ex – is there a possibility he’s in the picture?”

“It was about eight, almost nine years ago,” Josh informed him, “and to be honest, I checked up on him probably five years back.  He’d moved to California, was married with a couple little kids.  I know that doesn’t preclude him from being a suspect, but do you really think that’s the direction I should be looking?”

Clay rubbed his chin while he considered.  “A couple things lead me to believe this is someone known to Samantha.  One – there was no name besides hers on the package.  Now, that either means our guy is shy, lacks confidence, or doesn’t want her to know he sent it for whatever reason, or the guy is so arrogant and sure of the situation that he believes she should have no doubt that it came from him.  That goes right along with a controlling ex; a man who thinks of her as his possession.  He wouldn’t feel the need to identify himself because she’s completely and irrevocably his.  And urinating at the scene – once again, an act of contempt and humiliation.”

“So he sends her the negligee, maybe is pissed that she doesn’t recognize the significance, and breaks in and destroys it and her other possessions the next night?”

“It’s possible,” Clay said.  “Although I would usually expect to see that he’d spared the gift he’d given her – like whatever he’s chosen for her is the only thing she’s entitled to keep.  Or, conversely, the gift he’d given her to be the only thing destroyed, because she no longer deserved it.  There’s a sort of loose model of stalking behavior.  First the stalker attempts to win the object of his affection over with gifts and tokens of affection.  When that doesn’t work he’ll resort to intimidation, and from intimidation the violence usually progresses.  Particularly in a simple obsession case where the stalker and victim have had a previous relationship.  If it was someone unknown to Sam, or someone she’d only met casually, I wouldn’t expect him to run through the stages so quickly.  Some stalkers spend years ‘wooing’ their victims before their frustration increases to the point of violence; some never reach that point.  But for there to be only one night between incidents, it almost has to be someone that she knows.  Although I have to say, as a word of caution, I’m only basing this on the information you’ve given me.  Back it up with some good police work.  See of you can make a definite connection between the gift and the break-in with fingerprints or whatever.  If, for some reason, the two incidents are separate and distinct, we’re back to an angry would-be rapist who may not have been specifically after Sam.  Perhaps since he was thwarted and she’s moved away, he’ll move on to an easier target.”

“So then, the mysterious negligee would mean what?”

“Perhaps that she has a secret admirer; it could be as innocent as that.  Although I’m more inclined to think the admiration’s not innocent, especially given the content of the gift and the fact that it came anonymously.  It’s textbook stalker behavior, particularly someone who’s just getting started – maybe unsure of himself at this stage.”

“A newfound stalker and an aborted attempt at rape?  Independent, yet taking place within twenty-four hours of each other?”

Clay held up his hands at Josh’s tone.  “I’m not one for coincidence either.  And chances are the two things are connected.  All I’m saying is: don’t focus so much on the trees that you forget to examine the forest.  I know you’re a good cop, but I also know what it’s like to have someone you love in danger. Your sense of perspective isn’t always the best.”

“I tried to get this bumped over to sex crimes,” Josh admitted, “because I was worried that I would miss something. But the neighborhood Sam lived in wasn’t exactly the best and places get robbed all the time.  The Lieutenant wanted more proof before he’d approve it.  Especially since I’m personally involved; I think he questions my objectivity.”

“If you need me to go to bat for you, I will.”

“Thanks. I’ll do some poking around of my own,” Josh told him.  “You’ve got enough on your plate with the wedding.”

The glow of happiness returned.  “Rehearsal is Friday night,” Clay reminded him.

“I’ll be there with bells on.”