Delusion in Death by J. D. Robb Read Free Book Online Page B

routine, ordinary thing after the workday. It’s playing God—a vicious, vengeful God. Intelligent, organized, sociopathic. He, or they, likely have submerged violent tendencies. This was a play. Yes, performance art—the young man wasn’t far off. He observes, can’t connect. He’s unable to connect, except on the surface. He—or possibly she—plans and considers, but enjoys taking risks. He may be envious of the people who come together to enjoy a social hour after the workday. He may, certainly, have a specific target or a particular tie to or grudge against the bar.”
    “He would have known the routine, the happy hour business in that location.”
    “Yes.” Nodding at Eve, Mira crossed her legs. “He wouldn’t be a stranger there. Unless, and I agree the probability is small, this was an elaborate self-termination, he is also very controlled. He would have walked away. He couldn’t stay and watch what he’d created, what he’d caused. What he’d accomplished, and it would be difficult not to see. He’ll follow the story religiously in the media. If he can insert himself into it, he will. He’ll want that connection—to the power, not to the victims.”
    “He’ll do it again.”
    “Yes. And he will likely escalate, try for larger groups. He must have a place, a small lab, where he can create his substance. He must have, or have had, test subjects. Animals, I would think. And if he’d done this before we would have heard of it—I suspect this was his big test. The first on a group of human subjects.”
    “It could be political,” Whitney suggested.
    “Yes,” Mira agreed. “The basic profile remains should this be the work of a group or organization. If it is, they will certainly takecredit, and quickly. They would crave the attention and the platform for whatever cause they believe in. The fact that it’s been several hours now without any group claiming credit lowers that probability in my opinion. The longer without that contact, the higher the probability this is the work of an individual, or a small group with no specific agenda to hype.”
    She paused to study the board again. “He’s making a big statement. A public place, a place for society, for gathering. And he kills at a distance. He doesn’t need to see, to touch, to feel it.”
    “He’s better than they are,” Eve suggested. “Removed.”
    “Yes. His targets were primarily white-collar. Executives, those striving to be—admins, assistants. He works with them or for them. He knows them. It’s most probable he works or has worked in that area—the area that provides the bar with its after-work clientele, or indeed works or has worked for the bar. He might have been fired, or passed over for promotion.”
    “I’ve checked the firings at the bar,” Roarke put in. “There’s been none since I acquired it. I kept the staff when I bought it. The manager runs it well, and has for two years, which is longer than it’s been mine. He wasn’t on today. The barman who was among the victims also stood as assistant manager.”
    “We’ll interview all the bar staff,” Eve said. “Any who weren’t on shift, and especially any who requested off, or don’t show up as victims or off schedule. We’ll also interview the three people who EDD tagged as exiting the scene shortly before the event, once we’ve ID’d them. And we’ll interview coworkers, family, friends of every vic. It’s going to be a long process. I’ll assign a group of vics to each of you. You’ll work the case individually and as a team. You’ll do the notification to next of kin on the vics assigned to you. You’ll do the necessary interviews, and work the cases of your vics. Every interview,report, hunch, step, stage, and sneeze is documented and copied to me, the commander, and Doctor Mira. We’ll brief eight hundred hours. I’ll clear any and all OT.
    “Baxter, Trueheart,” she began and handed out specific assignments.
    When she’d finished,