“That’s true,” she said. “And since Adams was the only one of the three to have not fought back sufficiently to have gotten the killer’s skin under his nails, it does make sense that he could have been asleep when he was attacked.”

“So you have random victims but a specific… I don’t know what you’d call it.” Kevin frowned. “I’ve read a lot but don’t know if you’d call the acts of mercy thing his signature or his MO.”

“Signature,” Sam told him. “His MO is the way in which he goes about committing his crime. The strangulation, the stabbings. But the posing, the props-they’re part of whatever emotional investment he has in these crimes. That’s what links him to his victims, that’s his payoff, what makes these killings uniquely his. And that’s what will eventually lead us to him.”

“It’s going to be hard to figure out though, don’t you think?” Kevin was still frowning. “I mean, you have random victims in random places.”

“Maybe not so random.” Fiona stood and leaned against the table. “I’m still not so sure the locations are random, Sam.”

“What do you mean?” Kevin asked.

“Ross Walker was killed in Lincoln, Nebraska-home of the University of Nebraska,” Fiona said.

“Great football there,” Kevin noted. “I’ve been a Cornhuskers fan for years.”

“You go to school out there, Father?” Sam had never addressed a priest by his first name and had to correct himself again. “Kevin.”

“No, I went to St. Joe’s, in Philly. But Nebraska’s teams always get TV time in the fall. They’re always worth watching.”

“Sam went to Nebraska,” Fiona told him. “Right, Sam?”

“Right. I did. I’m Nebraska born and raised.”

“You play ball there?” the priest asked, seeming to be grateful to have the conversation move from murder for a moment.

“Actually, yes, I did.” Sam nodded. “I played center, backup my freshman year, started the next three.”

“You must have been good.”

“I had my moments.”

“Well, moving along here.” Fiona tapped on the photo of Calvin Adams. “Mr. Adams was killed in a park in Dutton, Nebraska.” She turned to Kevin. “Sam went to high school in Dutton.”

“Seriously?” The priest stared at the photo, then picked up the picture of Joseph Maynard. “Tell me you didn’t go to grade school in the town where this young man died.”

“No, I didn’t go to grade school there,” Sam said solemnly. “But my wife-my late wife-did. As a matter of fact, we were married there. Actually, she’s buried there.”

“Holy… smoke.” Kevin leaned against the back of the chair and exhaled loudly.

“That’s what we were discussing when you came in.” Sam reached for his water bottle, the sick feeling returning to his stomach. Hearing Fiona lay it out for the priest that way made coincidence seem less and less likely.

“We were thinking it was probably a coincidence that Sam had a connection to the locations,” Fiona added.

“Well, I’m not an investigator, but it seems to me that if the victims are random but the location is not, then the key would be in the location, right?” When he realized what he said, Kevin looked at Sam apologetically. “But does it really make sense that someone would deliberately pick places that had ties to you? Would someone really do that? I mean, I know on TV you see story lines like that, but in real life, do people do that?”

“I guess if they’re trying to get someone’s attention, they might.” Fiona stated what, for her, was obvious.

“If someone’s trying to get my attention,” Sam said slowly, “they’ve got it now.”

“But why would someone do that?” Kevin asked. “Why Sam? And why bring the acts of mercy into it?”

“The first question-why me?” Sam shrugged. “It could be someone who wants revenge against me for something, maybe for arresting them in the past, or maybe arresting a family member or a loved one. We can look into that through the Bureau’s records. But why the posing, feed the hungry and the rest of it? That’s the real question. And if we can find the answer to that, we’ll have the answers to all those other questions.”

“This is all speculation, Sam,” Fiona reminded him. “Maybe we’re reading too much into this. Maybe it is, as we discussed before, a creepy coincidence.” She thought for a moment. “Let’s look at this another way. You said this is your first week on this new job, right?”

Sam nodded. “Right.”

“Ross Walker was killed on February 9, 2008. How would someone in February of 2008 have known that in September of 2009, you’d no longer be with the Bureau? That you’d not only be working here, but that you’d be assigned to this case?”

Sam felt a prickle at the back of his neck.

“No one could have predicted that,” Kevin said.

“Right.” Sam turned to the priest. “I didn’t even know that a year and a half ago. So you’re probably right. It’s probably just one of those creepy coincidences. I guess they really do happen.”

“Sure,” Fiona agreed all too readily. “I’m sure that’s it. Proving that even the great John Mancini isn’t invincible.”

Kevin looked at her blankly.

“Our boss, John. His theory is that there’s no such thing as coincidence in a homicide investigation,” Fiona explained.

Kevin smiled. “I guess you can tell him that he can lay that theory to rest. Somehow this killer just managed to pick three towns in the Midwest that had a connection to Sam, but it could have been any three towns. Could have been any other three towns that had a connection to someone else, right? So there’s got to be another explanation, right?”

“Right,” Sam and Fiona said at the same time.

“Well, I’m glad we got that straightened out.” Kevin patted Sam on the back. “Good to meet you, Sam. Welcome aboard. I’m sure we’ll be seeing a lot of each other. Good luck with your case.”

“Thanks, Father.” She smiled as he left the room, then turned to Sam and said, “So we’re in agreement, then? We’re scratching the Sam connection here and we’re moving ahead?”

He hesitated just a bit too long.

“What?” Fiona frowned. “I thought we just agreed-”

“You have three murders where the MO is identical. What generally happens once a recognizable pattern is identified, Fiona?”

She didn’t answer right away. “Once the details are entered into VICAP, sooner or later someone will pick up the similarities.”

“And if there are three or more…”

“Someone will stick the serial-killer tag on them. And sooner or later, the chances are very good that the case will fall into the lap of the Bureau, where odds are-at the very least-it will be reviewed by one of the profilers.”

“And since there were only two of us working for John’s unit-Anne Marie McCall and I-sooner or later, the connection would be made.” Sam looked at Fiona. “Annie knows I’m from Nebraska. She knows I graduated from UNL. She would have brought it to my attention.”

“So if we go back to the theory that the killer is trying to get your attention, he would most likely have gotten it.”

“Right. I think the only real coincidence here is that I came on board with the Mercy Street Foundation at the same time Lynne Walker applied to have her husband’s murder investigated. If I’d stayed with the Bureau, the connection would have been obvious.” Sam sighed. “And there’s one other thing I should bring to your attention.”

She tilted her head to one side, waiting.

“My birthday is February ninth.”

He waited for the significance of the dates to click in. He didn’t have to wait long.

“Walker was killed on the ninth in ’08, Adams on the ninth in ’09. Maynard, though, was killed on the fifteenth of the month, right?”

“That’s right.” He swallowed hard. “August fifteenth. The anniversary of my wife’s murder.”

“Holy shit.” Fiona stared at Sam. “Why didn’t you say something when Father Burch was here?”

“Because I think that bomb ought to be dropped on Mallory Russo and Robert Magellan first.”