?This fuckhead?s a nutcase,? said Ryan. ?He?s crazy for control. He won?t open up much about his childhood, but he?s got so much rage against the grandmother you have to scrape it off your teeth when you leave the room. Blames all of his problems on her. Keeps saying she ruined him. From what we?ve learned, she was a very domineering woman, and fanatically religious. His feelings of powerlessness probably stem from whatever went on between them.?

?Meaning the guy?s a real loser with women and blames it on the old lady,? added Claudel.

?What does this have to do with Gabby??

Ryan seemed reluctant to continue.

?At first Fortier gets a sense of control through peeping. He can watch his victims, track them, learn all about them, and they aren?t even aware of him. He keeps his notebooks and clippings and runs a fantasy show in his head. An added bonus is that there?s no risk of rejection. But eventually, that?s not enough. He kills Damas, finds he likes it, and decides on a career move. He starts kidnapping and killing his victims. The ultimate control. Life and death. He?s in charge and unstoppable.?

I stared into the flame blue irises.

?Then you come along and dig up Isabelle Gagnon.?

?I?m a threat,? I said, anticipating where he was going.

?His perfect MO is jeopardized, he feels a threat. And Dr. Brennan is the cause. You may topple the whole fantasy in which he?s the supreme player.?

I ran over the events of the past six weeks.

?I dig up and identify Isabelle Gagnon in early June. Three weeks later Fortier kills Margaret Adkins, and the next day we show up on Rue Berger. Three days after that I find Grace Damas?s skeleton.?

?You?ve got it.?

?He?s furious.?

?Exactly. The hunt is his way of acting out his contempt for women-?

?Or his anger at Granny.? Claudel.

?Maybe. Anyway, he sees you as blocking him.?

?And I?m a woman.?

Ryan reached for a cigarette, remembered where he was.

?Also, he made a mistake. Adkins was sloppy. Using the bank card almost cost him.?

?So he needs someone to blame.?

?This guy can?t admit he?s screwed up. And he definitely can?t deal with a woman catching him out.?

?But why Gabby? Why not me??

?Who knows? Chance? Timing? Maybe she walked out before you did.?

?I don?t think so,? I said. ?It?s obvious he?d been stalking me for some time. He put the skull in my yard??

Nods.

?He could have waited, then grabbed me like he did the others.?

?This is one sick fucker.? Claudel.

?Gabby wasn?t like the others, she wasn?t a random-stranger killing. Fortier knew where I lived. He knew she was staying with me.?

I was talking more to myself than to Ryan and Claudel. An emotional aneurysm, formed over the past six weeks and held in check by force of will, was threatening to burst.

?He did it on purpose. The psycho prick wanted me to know. It was a message, like the skull.?

My voice was rising but I couldn?t hold it back. I pictured an envelope on my door. An oval of bricks. Gabby?s bloated face with its tiny silver gods. A picture of my daughter.

The thin wall of my emotional balloon ruptured, and weeks of pent-up grief and tension rushed through the puncture.

Razors of pain shot through my throat but I screamed, ?No! No! No! You goddamn sonofabitch!?

I heard Ryan speak sharply to Claudel, felt his hands on my arms, saw the nurse, felt the needle. Then nothing.

43

RYAN CAME TO SEE ME AT HOME ON WEDNESDAY. THE EARTH HAD turned seven times since my night in hell, and I?d had time to construct an official version for myself. But there were holes I wanted to fill.

?Has Fortier been charged??

?Monday. Five counts of first degree.?

?Five??

?Pitre and Gautier are probably unrelated.?

?Tell me something. How did Claudel know Fortier would show up here??

?He didn?t, really. From your questions about the school, he realized Tanguay couldn?t be the perp. He checked, found out the kids are in at eight, out at three-fifteen. Tanguay earned a perfect attendance ribbon. Hadn?t missed a day since he started, and there were no school holidays on the days you asked about. Also he?d learned about the glove business.

?He knew you were exposed, so he hauled ass back to your place to keep watch until he could get a unit back on site. Got here, tried the phone and found it dead. He vaulted the garden gate and found the French doors unlocked. You two were too busy dancing to hear him. He would have broken the glass, but you must have gotten the latch open when you tried to split.?

Claudel. My rescuer again.

?Anything new turn up??

?They found an athletic bag in Fortier?s car with three choke collars, a couple of hunting knives, a box of surgical gloves, and a set of street clothes.?

I packed as he talked, perched on the end of my bed.

?His kit.?

?Yes. I?m sure we?ll tie the Rue Berger glove and the one with Gabby to the box in his car.?

I pictured him that night, Spiderman smooth, gloved hands bone white in the darkness.

?He?d wear the cycling suit and gloves whenever he went out to play. Even at Berger. That?s why we always came up empty. No hairs, no fibers, no latents.?

?No sperm.?

?Oh yeah. He also had a box of condoms.?

?Perfect.?

I went to the closet for my old sneakers, tucked them into the duffel.

?Why did he do it??

?I doubt we?ll ever know. Apparently the grandmother could have run the showers and sifted the gold crowns out of the ovens.?

?Meaning??

?She was tough. And fanatic.?

?About??

?Sex and God. Not necessarily in that order.?

?For example??

?Gave little Leo an enema and dragged him to church every morning. To cleanse body and soul.?

?The daily Mass and swish protocol.?

?We talked to a neighbor who remembers one time the kid was wrestling on the floor with the family dog. The old biddy nearly stroked out because the schnauzer had a hard-on. Two days later the pup turned up with a belly full of rat poison.?

?Did Fortier know??

?He doesn?t talk about it. He does talk about a time he was seven and she caught him jacking off. Granny tied little Leo?s wrists to her own and dragged him around for three days. He?s got spiders in his head when it comes to hands.?

I paused in the middle of folding a sweater.

?Hands.?

?Yeah.?

?That?s not all. There was also an uncle, a priest who?d been forced to take early retirement. Hung around the house in his bathrobe, probably abused the kid. It?s another topic he goes mute on. We?re checking it out.?

?Where is the grandmother now??

?Dead. Right before he killed Damas.?

?The trigger??

?Who knows.?

I started going through bathing suits, gave up, stuffed them all in the duffel.

?What about Tanguay??

Ryan shook his head and expelled a long breath. ?Looks like he?s just another citizen with a seriously impaired approach to sex.?

I stopped sorting socks and looked at him.

?He?s mainline fruitcake, but probably harmless.?

?Meaning??

?He was a biology teacher. Collected roadkill, boiled the carcasses down and mounted the skeletons. He was building a display for his classroom.?

?The paws??

?Dried them for a vertebrate paw collection.?

?Did he kill Alsa??

?He claims he found her dead on the street near UQAM and brought her home for the collection. He?d just cut her up when he read the article in the Gazette. Scared him, so he stuffed her in a bag and left her at the bus station. We?ll probably never know how she got out of the lab.?

?Tanguay is Julie?s client, isn?t he??

?None other. Gets his jolt by hiring a hooker to dress in Mama?s nightie. And . . .?