Sacred Sins

man may have been in a religious order at one time, or simply have a fascination, even a fear of the authority of the Church. His use of the amice is a symbol, to himself, to us, even to his victims. It might be used in a rebellious way, but I'd rule that out by the notes. Since all three victims were of the same age group, it tends to indicate that they represent some important female figure in his life. A mother, a wife, lover, sister. Someone who was or is intimate on an emotional level. My feeling is this figure failed him in some way, through the Church.”
    “A sin?” Ben blew out a stream of smoke.
    He might've been a clod, she mused, but he wasn't stupid. “The definition of a sin varies,” she said coolly. “But yes, a sin in his eyes, probably a sexual one.”
    He hated the calm, impersonal analysis. “So he's punishing her through other women?”
    She heard the derision in his voice, and closed the folder. “No, he's saving them.”
    Ben opened his mouth again, then shut it. It made a horrible kind of sense.
    “That's the one aspect I find absolutely clear,” Tess said as she turned back to Harris. “It's in the notes, all of them. The man's put himself in the role of savior.

    From the lack of violence, I'd say he has no wish to punish. If it were revenge, he'd be brutal, cruel, and he'd want them to be aware of what was going to happen to them. Instead, he kills them as quickly as possible, then tidies their clothes, crosses the amice in a gesture of reverence, and leaves a note stating that they're saved.”
    Taking off her glasses, she twirled them by the eyepiece. “He doesn't rape them. More than likely he's impotent with women, but more important, a sexual assault would be a sin. Possibly, probably, he derives some sort of sexual release from the killing, but more a spiritual one.”
    “A religious fanatic,” Harris mused.
    “Inwardly,” Tess told him. “Outwardly he probably functions normally for long periods of times. The murders are spaced weeks apart, so it would appear he has a level of control. He could very well hold down a normal job, socialize, attend church.”
    “Church.” Ben rose and paced to the window.
    “Regularly, I'd think. It's his focal point. If this man isn't a priest, he takes on the aspects of one during the murders. In his mind, he's ministering.”
    “Absolution,” Ben murmured. “The last rites.”
    Intrigued, Tess narrowed her eyes. “Exactly.”
    Not knowing much about the Church, Ed turned to another topic. “A schizophrenic?”
    Tess frowned down at her glasses as she shook her head. “Schizophrenia, manic depression, split personality. Labels are too easily applied and tend to generalize.”
    She didn't notice that Ben turned back and stared at her. She pushed her glasses back in their case and dropped them in her purse. “Every psychiatric disorder is a highly individual problem, and each problem can only be understood and dealt with by uncovering its dynamic sources.”

    “I'd rather work with specifics myself,” Harris told her. “But there's a premium on them in this case. Are we dealing with a psychopath?”
    Her expression changed subtly. Impatience, Ben thought, noting the slight line between her brows and a quick movement of her mouth. Then she was professional again. “If you want a general term, psychopathy will do. It means mental disorder.”
    Ed stroked his beard. “So he's insane.”
    “ Insanity is a legal term, Detective.” This was said almost primly as Tess picked up the folder and rose. “Once he's stopped and taken to trial, that'll become an issue. I'll have a profile for you as soon as possible, Captain. It might help if I could see the notes that were left on the bodies, and the murder weapons.”
    Dissatisfied, Harris rose. He wanted more. Though he knew better, he wanted A, B, and C, and the lines connecting each. “Detective Paris'll show you whatever you need to see. Thank you, Dr. Court.”
    She took his hand. “You've little to thank me for at this point. Detective Paris?”
    “Right this way.” With a cursory nod he led her out.
    He said nothing as he took her through the corridors again and to the checkpoint where they signed in to examine the evidence. Tess was silent as well as she studied the notes and the neat, precise printing. They didn't vary, and were exact to the point that they seemed almost like photostats. The man who'd written them, she mused, hadn't been in a rage or in despair. If