CHAPTER TWENTY THREE

Michael returned fifteen minutes later and handed Faith a coffee and a bag that contained an orange juice, a protein bar, a bag of roasted peanuts and a blueberry muffin. She looked up at him and said, "Does Ellie know you eat like a five-year-old?"

"Where did you grow up that five-year-olds eat protein bars?" he asked. "But yes. Also, if you want something different, you can go shopping next time."

"You got coffee, too," she pointed out. "The break room actually has some of that."

"Ditto," Michael replied. He sat across from her and bit into his own protein bar. "So, starting from the beginning."

"Yes. I'll start though so you don't have to chew with your mouth open."

He rolled his eyes and gave her the finger.

"Just saying," Faith replied. "So, the key to this is the Magnum Opus. That's this guy's entire focus."

"Yep. Got that."

"So the details matter. That's why he's following every instruction to the letter in each murder despite his cowardice."

"So we're looking for missing details," Michael summarized.

"Yes."

"So we should start by looking at the details we have."

"Excellent work, Michael," she said with a hint of sarcasm.

He rolled his eyes again but didn't flip her off this time.

"so we know that the shapes matter. Inner circle, square, triangle."

"And the outer circle is left."

"Yes. The colors matter too, the ‘humors.' Nigredo, albedo, citrinitas, and rubedo. "

"And those are matched to the shapes."

"Exactly. Nigredo with the inner circle. Albedo with the square and citrinitas with the triangle. That means rubedo is the outer circle."

"All of which is great but doesn't lead us to our killer."

Faith sighed. "No. It doesn't."

Michael leaned back in his chair. We know our next victim will be positioned in the outer circle. Probably folded backwards with fingertips to toes or something."

"Something like that," Faith agreed. "And red mica powder will be spilled on her."

"Are we sure the victim will be a her?"

"Reasonably. The sacrifices usually call for a virgin girl, according to Nina. Obviously, these women aren't virgins, but the killer's taken women each time. Even if the only reason for that is to easily overpower them, I think we can assume the victim will be a woman."

"Makes sense. Not that it matters anyway, I guess."

Faith sighed again and sipped some of her coffee. It really wasn't any better than the coffee already at the precinct.

"So what's missing?" she said. "What else is unique about the crimes?"

"Different locations," Michael said.

Faith sat up a little straighter. "Yes. Yes, I think you're onto something. Each murder was committed at a different location. Cassidy at the Botanic Gardens, Samantha in her apartment, and Lorraine Hayes on a path by the river."

"Or just a path by her job," Michael said. "And Cassidy just happened to be alone at the gardens."

Faith deflated a little. "Yes. That's possible, too."

"It's the fact that Samantha was killed in her apartment," Michael said. "That's what makes me think the locations were just opportunistic and the victims are what matter. The issue is that the only thing I could speculate on with any certainty is that the next victim will have black hair."

"Which narrows it down to probably a million women or so."

"Not necessarily," Michael said. "Most people who have black hair actually have dark brown hair."

"So it narrows it down to… what would you say? A few thousand?"

This time, Michael deflated. "Yeah. It doesn't really help."

Faith shook her head. "If the victims mattered, then why not kill all of them in their homes? They all lived alone. The killer put himself at risk, killing Cassidy in the Botanic Gardens and Lorraine Hayes on a public path next to the Chicago River less than fifty yards from a busy road. The locations matter. I just don't know why yet. But that's the key. If we figure out why the locations matter, then we might be able to figure out where the next location is, and we can maybe predict where the killer will take his next victim. Then we can have the locations watched. It's clumsy, but we might catch our killer that way. At the very least, we might keep him from acting."

"Yeah," Michael said, a little encouraged. "Okay. Let's brainstorm then. If we assume the locations matter, then it matters that nigredo took place at the gardens, albedo took place at the loft apartment, and citrinitas took place by the river. So why those locations with those humors? And where will rubedo take place?"

Faith rested her chin on her hand and thought for a moment. It seemed random, but it wasn't. There was a purpose to those locations. Dr. Cranston had told them that each humor and each shape mattered for each part of the process. But he hadn't mentioned the location.

Then Faith remembered. "The elements!" she cried out.

"The what?" Michael asked.

"The elements," she said. "Dr. Cranston mentioned the four elements as well as the four shapes and the four humors."

"Did he?"

"He did. We just didn't think about it because we didn't see the connection at the time. There was nothing to tell us how the poses of the bodies and the colors of the powder indicated the elements. But that's the key! The locations are the key. They're the connection to the elements."

Michael's eyes widened. "Holy shit. You're right. That makes sense. The Botanic Gardens are associated with Earth."

"And the loft apartment with air and the river with water," Faith said. "That leaves fire."

Michael grinned. "So the next murder will take place somewhere with fire. Or having to do with fire. A firehouse, maybe?"

Faith shook her head. "That's pushing it too far. There will be firefighters at a firehouse, and they will have security cameras watching the area. Besides, firefighters try to stop fire. If anything, a firehouse would be associated with water."

"Okay, so where—"

The door opened before Michael could finish his question. Detective Hilary poked his head into the room, his face lined with worry. "Guys, we have something."

A chill ran through Faith. "Another body."

"Not yet."

"Not yet?" Michael said.

"Come with me."

Hilary ducked out of the room. The two agents shared a brief look with each other then rushed to follow him.

Hilary led them to the bullpen. A group of officers were crowded around Hilary's desk watching something. Hilary leaned over the computer and rewound the footage while explaining, "We have a woman who was kidnapped less than fifteen minutes ago from an office building in downtown."

"Downtown?" Michael said. "Seriously?"

"Seriously. The security camera captured this footage."

He backed up, and Faith leaned over the desk. The footage was a brief clip of the building's lobby. The camera didn't capture the entire lobby, but in the upper right corner of the video, Faith could see a masked attacker waiting for the elevator. The elevator opened, and a tall young woman with long, jet-black hair stepped out.

The attacker lifted something that looked like a club or sap and swung it at the woman. The weapon collided with the side of her head, and she dropped to the ground. Faith's lips thinned grimly as the attacker stooped and dragged her toward a side door and off the camera.

The attacker was masked, making it impossible to identify him, but it was a him. "You were right," Michael said. "The killer's a man."

"You were right, too," she replied. "She has jet-black hair."

"He didn't kill her there, though," Hilary said. "We have officers on scene now, and no body."

"That's good news," Faith said. "He's taking her somewhere else."

"But where and why? And are you sure it's our guy?"

Faith's lips thinned more. It could be an unrelated crime. It could have nothing to do with their alchemist.

But there was no doubt that the young woman in the video needed help. Faith didn't have anywhere else to look, and if she could help this young woman, then she would.

"Sure enough that I think we need to find her ASAP," Faith said. "And I know where he's going to take her."

***

The killer breathed deeply and gripped the wheel of the van tightly. When he released the breath, he relaxed his hands, but his heart continued to pound. He felt a transient pain in his chest and whimpered with fear.

Come on. I'm so close. I'm so damned close!

This whole thing was a clusterfuck. He had been so scared that he'd made a lot of stupid mistakes. He drove around for a while with no idea where he was going to go, then, for some reason, he just decided to pull into the parking lot of the first building he saw.

In downtown.

At an office building.

On a major boulevard.

He took another deep breath that had a similar lack of effect on his pounding heart.

He didn't even think about the damned cameras. He'd been so careful at the garden, but he didn't even think about it now. Then he'd looked up and saw that stupid camera that had caught him knocking the girl out. What a damned fool.

It's okay. Just finish rubedo and it won't matter. Worst case, you're in jail for a while.

"Which really kinda sucks," he whined.

His victim stirred, and he froze and watched her in the rearview mirror. Didn't even tie her up, you idiot.

She slumped again, and he released another breath he'd been holding. Damn it, his hands were shaking.

"Just a little bit," he said. "We just need to get to the location of fire, then we can complete the process, and I'll achieve eternal life."

Had the police seen him? Were they on their way?"

He shivered and squeezed and released the wheel again. "It's okay," he told himself. "It's okay."

A flash of pain struck his chest. He gasped and pressed his right hand to the pain while his left continued to drive. He felt a wave of nausea—something that only accompanied the worst of the pain.

Worse was the pain forming in his left arm.

"No," he said. "Not now, damn it, not now."

He smacked his chest hard, once, twice, then a third time. When he hit it again, he felt something slide inside of him, and the pain subsided. He froze, certain that it would return at any moment, but all he felt was a dull ache.

He took another deep breath and stifled sobs. He just needed to finish this one job. Then everything would be okay.

The location he had chosen was perfect. Not only did it fit for rubedo , but it was close by. He wouldn't be vulnerable for long.

Damn it, if only he'd had a day or two longer. He could have done this without his car. He could have taken the right precautions.

Instead, he'd rushed everything, and now the police were almost certainly following him.

His victim stirred again. He looked at her and wondered if he should stop the car to knock her out. Or maybe he'd just kill her now.

No, he couldn't do that. He needed her alive until right before the ritual.

He pulled the car to a stop and opened the back door. The victim asked in a slurred voice. "What's… what's going on?"

Instead of answering, he pulled her toward him, wrapped his arms around her neck and squeezed. She struggled for a few seconds, then went limp. He pushed her back into the car, then got back in the driver's seat and sped off.

"Soon. Soon. One more time, and it will all be over."