A few drops of perspiration had formed on Rick’s brow. He wiped them away. “I’m not nervous. Not really. Just my normal reaction before I go on air.”
The tip of Caldwell’s tongue appeared for an instant then vanished. “Yes, of course.”
Rick took a sip of water, watched the big clock on the wall tick the remaining five seconds toward go-time. “Good afternoon. This is Rick Jennings on the
Afternoon Circus
. Today, we are joined by Dr. Harrison Caldwell, a psychology professor from George Mason University. In addition to his research in the world of academia, he consults, from time to time, on criminal investigations for several of the local police jurisdictions. I’m sure he’ll have some very insightful comments and observations.” He pointed at Caldwell, mouthed
say hello
.
“Thanks, Rick. It’s great to be here.” His voice darkened. “But I’m so sorry it has to be under these circumstances. Horrifying, simply horrifying.”
Rick explained. “For those of you who don’t know…Dr. Caldwell is referring to what happened during our live remote from Major Francis Park.” Rick choked up. “Excuse me.” He took a sip of water, then placed the water bottle down on the table, top off. “Yesterday evening, I received a small package while I was on-air. In the package was the ear of a colleague. And a note from First Time.” Rick felt himself getting light-headed. He’d had a long talk with Celia and Marty about how to handle the whole incident. Everyone thought being direct and getting it on the table up-front would be best. They were banking on Rick’s even-keeled manner to smooth the way. In their meeting, Rick had been confident he could pull it off. But now…
His eyes flitted around. J.T. and Celia were staring at him. “Today we’re going to take your calls. Questions for Dr. Caldwell, comments about what happened, whatever you’re feeling, we’d like to hear it. So start calling.” The phone lines had been jammed since before they’d gone on-air; they always were. Even without a lightning rod like First Time. The desire to call in to a radio talk show and hear your voice broadcast over the air must be some kind of innate, genetic drive. And judging from the demographics of the typical callers, the trait was carried on the Y chromosome. It depended on the topic, but in general, male callers outnumbered females by about four to one.
Rick hit line one. “You are live, Kyle. Speak to me!” Rick caught himself. He wasn’t used to having a co-pilot. His catchphrase needed tweaking. “Speak to us!” He looked at his screen. Kyle wanted to ask Caldwell about First Time’s next victim.
“This is Kyle. From Minneapolis.”
“Go ahead, Kyle. You’re on with Dr. Caldwell. What’s your question?”
“Well, you’re a doctor, right? So I want to know why my penis—”
Rick disconnected Kyle. “No matter how well we screen them, some always get through. Sorry.”
Next to him, Caldwell looked like he’d found a worm in his Winesap.
“Okay. Let’s try another.” He stabbed the button for line four on the Gentner. “You are live. Speak to us!”
“Hi Rick. Hi Dr. Caldwell. I’m a long time listener, first time caller. My name is Julie.” In the background, Rick heard voices.
“Hi Julie. Please turn down your radio.”
The background noise subsided. “Thanks. Now what can we do for you today?” Rick flashed a tentative smile at Caldwell.
This caller sounds on the level
.
“Well, I was wondering if Dr. Caldwell had any insights about First Time. What makes him tick. Why he’s doing what he’s doing.”
Rick nodded at Caldwell, who leaned closer to his mic. “Hello Julie. Thanks for calling. In my line of work, I’ve had the misfortune of working with some very disturbed people, including a fair share of malicious criminal-types. And there’s no single thing that makes them tick. Some are motivated by greed. Some by lust. Some are following orders issued by unseen voices. So I believe it’s a mistake to think you can pigeonhole First Time. I do—”
“Isn’t he just a whack job?” Julie said.
“Let me finish. Please. As I was saying, there are a variety of factors that could be spurring our killer. But, based on what we know about him—how he’s killed, who he’s killed, how he craves the media attention—I think we can get a general sense of what’s motivating him.” Caldwell shifted in his seat, blinked a few times. “After we discuss that, I can try to give you a more intimate sense of First Time’s psyche.”
Caldwell’s little speech mesmerized Rick. “Thanks for the call, Julie.” Rick cut the line. “That’s a good plan. Dr. Caldwell, why don’t we hear some of the listeners’ opinions about First Time. Then we’ll see how they stack up against yours. We’ll be back in a minute to get started. Don’t go anywhere.”
As soon as they were off, J.T.’s voice came over the intercom. “The Mrs. is on line one.”
Rick needed to talk with Barb, but he didn’t want to do it over the phone. He’d come to a conclusion, and he wasn’t sure how she would take it. Even after nine years of marriage, some things still had him flummoxed. “If it’s not urgent, please tell her I’m indisposed. Okay? I’ll call her back later.”
“Sure, boss. It’s your doghouse.”
F
OR THE NEXT
hour and a half, the listeners poured their hearts out. Die-hard listeners and casual listeners. People stumbling onto the show as they tuned their way across the dial. Everyone had an opinion. First Time was the devil. He was high on meth. A crazed werewolf. First Time was a lesbian on the warpath. He had a split personality. He was a highly ranked government official working at the White House. He was locked in a closet as a kid for weeks at a time.
Rick punched the phone buttons and stayed out of the way, letting Caldwell answer the questions. He strived to keep the show moving, like a true
Circus
ringmaster. And it was entertaining—his listeners had very active imaginations. He had to admit, Caldwell was born for radio, his quips and observations always on point and never too pointed.
During the breaks, Celia chatted with them on the intercom. If the deaths of Garth and Danzler hadn’t been hanging over their heads, it would have been an enjoyable afternoon of radio.
Now it was time to get serious.
Rick gave a thumbs-up to Caldwell as he spoke into his mic. “Okay, listeners, I think we’ve heard enough from you. It’s time now to hear what Dr. Caldwell’s assessment is.” He paused, for effect only. Caldwell had been ready to strut his stuff since he sat down in the studio. If their roles were reversed, Rick knew he wouldn’t have been as patient. “Ready?”
“Yes. Ready.”
Caldwell took a deep breath. Exhaled. The whoosh of air was audible in Rick’s headphones. “First Time is a monster. He’s a male, not a female as a few callers suggested. And I don’t think he works in the White House, although there are a few monsters there. No, he’s a regular working guy. Likes his job. Probably doesn’t get along too well with his co-workers. He’s anti-social, but he might mask it well. You know, he seems to get along with people while inside he despises everyone he meets.”
“I know a lot of people who might meet that description,” Rick said. He and Caldwell had decided during the last break he would interject often, to make Caldwell’s observations more listener-friendly. Nobody wanted to hear a dry monologue.
“Not too many of them are killers, I hope.” Caldwell emitted an uncomfortable chuckle, and Rick could tell he was simply being polite. “First Time probably had a rough childhood, but I don’t think he’s been in real trouble before.”
“Oh? Why not?”
“When he first called and said he was a ‘First Time Killer,’ I think he was being truthful.”
Rick had thought he’d just picked that name to mock all the listeners identifying themselves as ‘First Time Callers.’ He hadn’t really given it too much thought beyond that. “Go on.”
“I think he kills because he feels inferior. People treat him poorly—or at least he perceives they do—and it infuriates him. Sets him off.” He turned to Rick and began addressing him like he was the only one he was talking to. But he kept his head tilted up and his mouth close to the mic, just like a seasoned pro. “He reacts differently than you or me. He kills people when he gets mad.”
“So he’s a hothead? You think he kills in an uncontrollable rage, as opposed to some kind of premeditated attack?”
Caldwell raked his top teeth along his lower lip. “Not necessarily. I think once he’s been pushed over the edge—and he clearly has been—he’s capable of rationally planning his murders. I wouldn’t be surprised if we found out he’d been stalking your morning man for days, or weeks, before he sprang.”
A cold-blooded, calculating killer. The thought sent shivers down Rick’s spine. “Isn’t that contradictory? I mean, you have to be crazy to kill people and cut off their body parts, right? But how can a crazy person have enough wits to plan a murder?”
“There are no absolutes. Look at John Wayne Gacy. Or Jeffery Dahmer. Both demented killers. Both charming enough to lure their victims into their traps. I think it’s safe to say First Time is a true sociopath.”
“That makes him harder to catch, I’d think.”
“Infinitely. He’s crafty. Clever. Could very well have a high IQ. Genius, even. He’s quite good at assuming whatever identity he desires. Needless to say, he’s very, very dangerous. People should be on their guard.”
Obvious, but the warning coming from Caldwell sounded very compelling. And chilling. “I’m sure people have become much more careful since this whole thing started. Remember the snipers?” Rick said. A while back, two deranged guys—one a teenager—terrorized the Washington area by shooting innocent people in shopping center parking lots and gas stations. Ten people were dead before the cops found the snipers sleeping in their car at a rest stop along I-70.
“I’m not sure that analogy is a good one, Rick.”
“Why not?”
“The victims of the snipers were shot at random. No pattern, geographically, demographically, or otherwise. First Time’s two victims lived here in Northern Virginia.” He paused, caught Rick’s eyes. “And I don’t have to tell you, both of them were associated with this radio station.”
Rick’s throat tightened. Since he came in that morning, it was all people were talking about. Why. Who would be next. Everyone had their own pet theories. Everyone who showed up for work, that is—attendance at the station was sparse. “So, do you think one of us—here at the station—is next?”
“Let me answer that in another way. I think First Time knew both his victims. Was able to get close to them without arousing suspicion. Remember, he’d already killed someone before he killed Garth. Presumably, Garth was being careful with a killer on the loose. I know I was.” A wry smile graced his lips. “Still am, too.”
“Aren’t we all?”
“That’s my point, exactly. So I think First Time knew these people. And I’ve talked with the police about that. They agree.”
“Well, that should help their investigation.”
“Every little bit…Anyway, there’s something else you should know.” Caldwell stared at him, something in his face. Concern. Or sympathy, perhaps.
“What?”
Caldwell swallowed. “I believe First Time knows you, too. Personally.”
“W
E
’
RE LEAVING
,”
SAID
Barb. Next to her, strewn across the floor of the entrance hall were suitcases, duffel bags, and tote bags, along with a small box of Livvy’s books. “And you’re coming, too.” Her cheeks were flushed and the words spilled out quickly.
Why had he been worried about Barb’s reaction to his idea? Evidently, great minds
do
think alike.
“Hey, let me come in, and we’ll talk.” Rick slipped in, past Barb and the pile of bags. Getting met at the door by your upset wife was a little unsettling.
Barb went straight to a chair in the kitchen and sat, back rigid, hands folded on the table. Rick took the chair next to hers. “Where’s Livvy?”
“Watching TV. I told her we’re going on a little adventure.” Barb licked her lips, calmed down a bit. “I heard the interview. The professor thinks First Time knows you. Thinks you could be his next victim. We need to—”
Rick held up his hand. “Wait a minute. He never said he thought I would be the next victim.” He reached out to take Barb’s hand, but she kept them intertwined in front of her. “Listen to me. Here.” He gently pried Barb’s hands apart, took one in his. “I’ve been thinking about this, too. And I think you’re right. No need to take unnecessary chances.” Rick felt Barb’s body unwind. Tension suddenly gone. A smile appeared.
“Terrific. Maybe we could go to Florida? Livvy’s been wanting to go to Disney World.”
“Honey. I have a show to do. I can’t go anywhere. And Livvy’s got school.”
“It’s just kindergarten.” Barb’s smile faded.
“Look. Be logical. There’s no telling how long it will take the cops to catch him. We can’t afford to cruise the Mediterranean for months and months.”
“Yeah, well I can’t afford for you to be dead.”
“No one’s going to be dead. Especially not me.” Rick offered a wan smile, saw it didn’t connect, and wiped it away.
“So, what? We stay here, hiding in fear? Me wondering every time you leave if you’ll be coming back? Maybe I’ll open up the mail one day and find a piece of my husband in an envelope. That would be exciting.” She pulled her hand away. “And what about Livvy? What if this madman comes around here, looking for you, and grabs Livvy? My God.”
Rick ran his hand through his hair. “No. I don’t want you staying here. You and Livvy can go stay with Uncle Ray. That way, Livvy can still go to school and you can still do the things you normally do. But First Time will never find out. And no one will be held hostage by this guy.” Rick’s Uncle Ray lived a few miles away in the Town of Vienna. Barb would have to drive Livvy to and from school, but that wouldn’t be such a big deal.
Barb tilted her chin at Rick. “And what about you?”
“I can’t come with you,” Rick said, a little too forcefully. “Listen, you and Livvy will be safe there. And I’ll be careful. What if I came too, and he followed me home or something? Then you and Livvy could be in danger.”