Page 48 of Ruthless Riches
“Yes. I wanted to discuss it with you to see if it shakes anything loose in your head. But before I tell you more, I want you to remember that profiling isn’t an exact science. This guy—Elijah Porter—is one of the best, but even he gets it wrong sometimes.”
My brows furrowed. “Why does his name sound so familiar?”
“You probably saw him all over the news last year. A profile he developed led to the identification and arrest of a truck stop serial killer in Oregon,” Rader replied. “Like I said, he’s good. Ninety percent of the time, the stuff he comes up with is accurate. But there’s still that ten percent margin of error. Do you remember the Salinas Strangler case from a few years back?”
“Vaguely.”
“Well, Porter and his team were certain that they should be searching for a white man from a working class background, aged twenty to twenty-five. But the Strangler turned out to be a forty-eight-year-old soccer mom.”
“So you think this Butcher profile could be total bullshit?”
Rader shook his head. “That’s not what I’m saying,” he said. “All I meant was that we need to keep in mind that it might not be completely accurate.”
“Right. So what does this Porter guy think, then?”
He lifted up the first piece of paper in front of him and read aloud. “He thinks we’re looking for someone between the ages of twenty-two and thirty. Probably a white male, but that isn’t a certainty,” he said. He cleared his throat and went on. “This person will blend into society quite well and appear to be friendly and sociable, but they are masking severe emotional issues and a string of failed relationships. It’s likely that this person has experienced trauma and suffers from severe abandonment issues. Possibly diagnosed with a Cluster A personality disorder in the past.” Rader turned the page. “The subject is capable of planning crimes in advance and leaving behind very little evidence, so we can surmise that they have an above-average IQ. If they work, it is within a skilled occupation. They know the island very well, and possibly grew up here. They also know Alexis Livingston.”
I stared at the wall behind Rader’s head as his words sank in. All the stuff about emotional issues and personality disorders was making me think of the time when Alexis yelled at me because she thought I was painting all mentally ill people with the same brush.
That was the kind of person she was. She thought she was about to be killed and still found the strength to speak up for others and defend them.
She was so much fucking better than me, in every conceivable way. I deserved to be stuck down in Satan’s Penthouse right now. Not her.
“Nate?” Rader said, peering at me from across the table. “Did you hear what I said?”
“Yeah. The profiler thinks you should be looking for a smart, socially-competent white guy.”
He nodded. “Can you think of anyone in Alexis’s life who might fit that description?”
I slowly shook my head. “She’s never been close with any men that I know of, apart from her father and stepfather, and it’s obviously not them. Her stepdad lives in California, and her dad is dead.”
“It doesn’t necessarily have to be someone close to her. Just someone who knows her.”
“She doesn’t really have any male friends. She’s always been more of a girl’s girl,” I said. An idea suddenly sparked in my head, and I sat up straight. “Wait, what about Harry? Did you ever look into him?”
“Harry Whittaker?”
“I don’t know his last name, but I know he was interested in Alexis a while ago,” I said. “I think he’s an engineering student, so he must be pretty smart.”
Rader nodded. “That’s Harry Whittaker. Alexis mentioned him when we interviewed her while she was in the hospital a few weeks ago. We spoke to him, but we ruled him out as a suspect,” he said. “Also, he wasn’t here on Avalon when Alexis was taken from the Devil’s Playhouse the other night. We checked. He was visiting relatives in Seattle.”
My shoulders slumped. “Oh.”
“Any other men you’re aware of?”
I rubbed my jaw and frowned as I considered it. “There was a guy at the Playhouse the other night. Someone from a newspaper. He talked to Alexis. I think he wanted an interview from her about all the Golden Circle stuff.”
“That would be Daniel Xavier. We’ve spoken to him. He came in as soon as he heard the reports about Alexis being taken.”
“Not a suspect?”
“No, he has a solid alibi.”
“Shit.” I blew out a disappointed breath and leaned forward, resting my hands on the table.
“Take your time to think about it,” Rader said. “And remember, the offender profile might not be completely accurate, because as we were discussing before, it’s not an exact science. For all we know, our perpetrator could be a woman.”
“Could I look at the profile again?”
“Sure.” He pushed the top two pages over to me.
I scanned them again and shook my head. “I really can’t think of anyone who fits this.”
“Okay. Just keep thinking about it. Something might pop into your head later.”
I nodded wearily. “All right. I’ll try my best.”
Rader gave me another faint smile. “Like I said before, I think we should remain optimistic. Your information about Central Park was obviously right, as evidenced by the discovery of the Fitbit, and that means we’re homing in on the Butcher more and more with every hour that passes. So don’t give up.”
I steeled my jaw. “I’ll never give up,” I said. “Not on Alexis.”
