Authors: R. E. Bradshaw
“These types of murderers almost always have a dysfunctional relationship with a mother figure. He will also come from a broken or abusive home. If the parents stayed together, then it was probably not a healthy environment. There are exceptions, but something probably went terribly wrong in this UNSUB’s childhood.”
Colonel Asher contributed to the impromptu profile. “He’s smart. I’d say well above average intelligence. Despite that, he will have many failures in school or employment goals. He will blame his lack of success on others. He probably has a job he feels is beneath his intelligence and feels superior to those he works with. He’ll present the attitude that he knows more than he lets on, as if he could accomplish wonders if he wanted to.”
Rainey continued his thread of thought. “Along with that superior attitude, comes difficulty with authority and boundaries. He will have overstepped his authority at work and reacted badly when put in his place. These men are often drawn to the military, but can’t handle the command structure. He may have excelled as a soldier, but his narcissism would have made it difficult for him to remain in the service. His time would have been short, if he made it through boot camp.”
“In my experience,” Sheila said, “They shy away from conflict with male authority figures, but take out those frustrations on their victims. A man like this gets reprimanded at work, then goes home and beats his wife.”
“Yep, that’s our guy. You might want to look for domestic abuse charges on these truck owners,” Rainey suggested, and then continued the profile. “This type of offender is indifferent to his fellow man, irresponsible and self-centered, the classic psychopath. People who know him well will find him manipulative, deliberate in his actions, full of guile, but outwardly cordial for as long as it suits his objectives. Should he be thwarted, his true personality revealed, his outburst would be over the top with indignation.”
The colonel stated the physical particulars. “The victim profiles suggest he is a white male. His age is older than the range we would normally use. Because of his organization, the crimes themselves, I’d say he’s in his late thirties or early forties. He’ll be articulate, extroverted. He will take great care with his health and appearance.”
“So, we’re looking for a good-looking man?” Sheila asked.
“Not necessarily,” Rainey answered. “His vanity about his looks may be because he isn’t handsome. He may spend a great deal of time trying to improve his looks. DeBardeleben was not handsome, but was obsessed with his appearance. They found combs everywhere in his belongings. His wives talked about the amount of time he spent combing and caring for his hair.”
“You think he’s married?” Sheila asked, still taking notes.
“If he is, she’s subservient to him. He’s done things to her, forced her to participate in his fantasies. She is his victim as well. The minute she stops being compliant, she will suffer. I’m leaning toward divorced with this one. Something happened three years ago, when he started abducting women. Willing or coerced partners supplied his source of pleasure, the suffering of women, until his tastes turned too violent for them. He sought a more readily available source, one where he did not have to control his most sadistic fantasies.”
“A lot of the things we know about this type of sexual murderer will only be revealed to be true after we catch him,” Colonel Asher said. “He’ll have the trilogy of childhood behaviors, bedwetting, arson, cruelty to animals. He’ll have youthful alcohol or drug abuse, but his behavior now will indicate use, not abuse. He’ll probably have a juvenile record of stealing, shoplifting, possible voyeurism.
“We can use those things to narrow the search, if we develop a list of suspects,” Sheila said, listing the items in her notes.
“If he doesn’t have a record, people will remember a troubled childhood, with discipline handled at home, and poorly I might add.” Rainey’s phone rang and she pulled it from her pocket. Danny McNally’s picture grinned at her. “It’s Danny. Hold that thought,” she said to Sheila.
“I hope you’re calling to say you are on your way,” Rainey said into the phone.
“As soon as I can clear these files off my desk, I’m on the jet,” Danny said. “We’re shuffling assignments right now. Detective Robertson emailed the information on the current missing case, the ME’s report, and the other missing women’s files. You’ve just become a major priority.”
“I guess having her tell you we had a DeBardeleben down here wasn’t good enough. You had to see the proof.” Rainey’s teasing held an edge.
Despite attempts to prevent it, Rainey could not stop the nagging sense of betrayal she felt toward her oldest friend. Now was not the time to let those feelings surface. She stuffed them back down for the sake of a more important issue, the colonel’s missing daughter.
Danny ignored her tone. “Not me, the management. The autopsy pictures were all it took to clear us for the trip, and that call from the Army brass probably had a bit of influence. We’ll be on this tonight and there before dawn. Do you have anything to add to the information we already have?”
“We’re generating a list of possible vehicles to track down. I’m sure you’re developing your own geographic profile, and you’ll see the area where he is most likely located. If you could have Brooks contact the officers working on the list down here, I think she can narrow the search for them.”
“Will do. Anything else?”
Rainey thought it was a good idea to let him in on her plan. “I’m going to put you on speakerphone. I have an idea and Sheila needs to hear it. Colonel Asher, the missing woman’s father is also in the room. He’s retired Army CID. Treat him like an investigator. That’s what he wants.”
“Okay,” Danny agreed.
Rainey put the phone down on the table and introduced the colonel to Danny. “Colonel Asher, you’re speaking with SSA Danny McNally of the BAU.”
“I’m familiar with you, sir,” the colonel said, leaning toward the phone. “We met during my training at Quantico. I don’t expect you to remember me. I was one among many.”
“I’m sorry you’re in this situation, Colonel. We’ll do all we can to locate your daughter. That is the main focus of my team from this moment on.”
Rainey heard Sheila’s sigh of relief. Some local law enforcement agencies did not want interference from the FBI, but most welcomed the BAU when the cases were overwhelming, as this one portended to be.
“Danny, I want to bounce an idea off you. Would you agree that this UNSUB is focused on me?” Rainey asked.
“I think the body in your backyard would be a good indicator, yes,” Danny answered.
“We know from the clues he left on the body that he wants the recognition for being in the same league with, if not exceeding the depravity of DeBardeleben or Schaefer, and I’m sure you caught the flagrant grab for media attention with the Bundy bite mark.”
“I’m following you,” Danny said.
“I suspect it was you Molly called at Quantico, so you know I’m under suspicion of murder.” She did not wait for his confirmation. “They are about to make a big bust on a serial rapist. I think we can work both of these situations to our advantage.”
Danny understood immediately. “You want him on page two.”
“Exactly,” Rainey agreed. “I think the media should be flooded with info on the serial rapist bust. It would also be good to have an official statement precluding me from any involvement with ongoing investigations, until I am cleared as a murder suspect. A very brief statement should be made about the body recovery, maybe even hint at a tie to the rapist. I think that statement should include that the BAU has been contacted, but until more of the missing women’s bodies are found and a serial murderer is proven to exist, you have more pressing matters with which to deal.”
The father overwhelmed the investigator in Colonel Asher. He objected, “That could push him to kill Bladen.”
Rainey put up her hand. “Hear me out, and Danny, feel free to jump in. He may very well lash out at Bladen, but he needs her right now. He needs someone to listen to his ranting and raving, who will agree he’s being disrespected, and that once again society has failed to recognize his superiority. He contacted the police and drew my attention because he’s devolving. We should help push him over the edge.”
Danny concurred. “He will have to show us he’s worthy of attention, and I think you’re right about his current captive. It is a risk, but I think he’ll keep her alive. He’ll vent his rage on her, but if she survives that, if she’s smart and plays to his narcissism, it could buy her time or an escape opportunity.”
Neither Danny nor Rainey told the colonel the other reason he would not kill Bladen. He was not done with her yet. This UNSUB favored long term confinement, a slow and painful breaking of a woman’s spirit. He had invested too much time in Bladen’s acquisition to dispose of her so quickly. Her worth was tied up in his narcissism. If he devalued her by killing her quickly, or if she proved not to fulfill his fantasy, then he had wasted his time, chosen poorly, and that would reflect badly on his self-image as all-powerful and superior. No, Bladen would suffer much more before her death, Rainey was sure. She was betting the young woman’s life on it.
#
Drip—Drip—Drip—
Bladen’s counting of the drips halted at the sound of a—what was it, a car door slamming? He was coming. While her body began to tremble and her thoughts to race, part of her mind was working out the clues. She heard the sound. It originated outside of this room. The music had been ear-splittingly loud. Her location, she concluded, was in the middle of nowhere or someone would have heard the music. Bladen cycled through what she knew. She was underground, away from other structures. The sound of the car door slamming, if that was what it was, came from above her. The smell of oil was stronger when he opened the door. Could she be under a detached garage? It would have to be very detached. Unafraid of being discovered, he encouraged her to scream and shriek. But if Bladen could hear a car door slam, then her screams could be heard, opening a possibility of hope. She filed that information away. The slim chance that someone may hear her anguished cries was all Bladen Asher had to hang onto, as the door opened and pure evil walked back in.
He beat her while she was still tied up. Kicked her repeatedly, telling her his dog knew better than to “shit in his house.” Once done with the “behavioral modification session,” as he referred to it, he cut the ropes loose, making sure to yank them away, ripping more skin in the process. Unencumbered by ropes for the first time in hours, she crawled, stumbled, and finally gained her feet again on the way to the bathroom, where he made her haul the dog bed into the shower. She was told to wash it spotless, but was not allowed to clean herself until the bed met his specifications. Her own waste burned fire between her legs, where the ropes had worn her skin into a bloody rash. Finally, his attention wandered to checking the early afternoon newscasts, leaving her free to clean herself. The bastard made sure to turn the water down to no more than a cold trickle, before he left the room.
Free, a totally different concept to Bladen now. She was not free to turn on the hot water or increase the flow of the cold. He had not specifically forbidden it, but she knew she was not free to do anything on her own. It took a while, but once she was able to clean her raw skin, she sat down over the drain. Pooling the water in the bottom of the shower stall, Bladen let the icy liquid cool her feverish flesh and reduce the swelling. Her ribs ached from his kicks and punches, but he spared her head, forcing her to remain conscious for her lesson. He was always careful to keep her aware of the pain as long as possible.
He only raged occasionally. All through the previous night, he carried out his torture calmly, his voice droning on, as if he were a boring instructor lecturing on the subject of human suffering. Then there was the forced dialogue, where he made her repeat how much she enjoyed what was happening to her, or beg him to stop using specific phrases. He would record her attempts to follow the script, play them back, and make her repeat each line until she said it to match whatever fantasy he was living in his mind.
The worst parts were his “Tell me about the pain” moments. Like a scientist in a laboratory, he would ask, “How much does it hurt, Bladen? Describe it to me.”—“Can you compare it to any other pain you’ve felt?”—“Which was worse, the rack or the picquet?” He wanted honest answers, and “modified” her behavior when he did not believe he was receiving them.
Alone in the shower, able to move her limbs again, Bladen worked the stiffness out of her joints. These rare moments of freedom were the only bright spots she had to look forward to. She massaged her muscles, encouraging the blood to flow again, after hours of restriction. She needed to be ready to take advantage of an opportunity, should one arise. Bladen knew she had to maintain her strength any way she could. She would eat what was given to her, drink when she could, and stay alive, whatever it took.
“Stay focused. Stay engaged,” she whispered.
Suddenly, he was standing over her again. She flinched at his unexpected appearance. He held a hamburger and a soft drink cup in his hands. He saw that she was trying to relieve the pain by soaking in the few inches of water she managed to accumulate. Bladen thought he was going to kick her again, or at least make her stand up. But he only smirked under the black mask, crumbled the hamburger, and tossed it into the water pooled between her legs. He poured the soft drink over her head, tossed the cup in the water, and left her alone.
Freedom was indeed an altered concept for Bladen.
#
Jason Brand’s perp-walk was well attended. The traditional parading of a high profile suspect before the media, shortly after his or her arrest, was controversial at best. In this instance, the suspect’s head was covered to prevent tainting of the witness identifications, but the press conference that followed left no doubt that the serial rapist was in custody. After an afternoon of working out the details of the statement with the department spokesman, and coordinating with Wiley on Jason’s arrest, Rainey was quite sure they were setting the right lure.