CHAPTER FIVE

Hilary dropped them off at the medical examiner's office, then left for his precinct to look into the security footage and potential mutual associates of Cassidy and Samantha. The three agents identified themselves to the receptionist and were told that Dr. Test would meet them in his office.

Dr. Test was a barrel-chested man of around forty-five with a shaved head and a bushy brown beard. He reminded Faith of an old actor she'd seen in an adventure movie, but she couldn't quite remember which one.

He greeted them in a rich baritone. "Agents. Good to see you. Roger told me you'd be coming."

"Roger?" Faith asked.

"Detective Hilary. He and I are good friends."

"Ah. Well, we're hoping you can help us understand what happened to Cassidy Holt and Samantha Reynard."

He sighed, and a look of grief crossed his eyes. "I'll tell you what I can. The cause of death was the severing of the spinal cord from the brain stem in both cases. It occurred both times as a result of extreme torsion of the cervical vertebrae."

"Their necks were snapped," Faith summarized.

"Yes. The silver lining is that they would have gone out quickly. The action was completed very cleanly. They were dead within seconds and felt no pain."

"Do you think this was a practical action on the killer's part or a sympathetic one?" Michael asked.

Dr. Test lifted his hands. "That's where we'll need your expertise."

Faith clarified the question. "I think what my partner's asking is if there's any sign that the killer showed extra care to the bodies. Were they treated gently or cleaned up at all? Any evidence that they were touched in an affectionate or a sexual manner?"

"No sex. I can tell you that right away. There's no bodily fluids anywhere, not even trace amounts of saliva that would come from breathing on them. Your killer wore a mask."

"Good to know."

"No bruising around the nipples or groin that might indicate manipulation. Both victims were touched around the hips and waist, but more on the outside. Samantha's legs were opened, but it looks like she was grabbed at the ankles. The killer might have enjoyed the visual of two attractive naked young women, but his or her hands stayed well away from their more sensitive areas."

"How can you tell if there are no fingerprints?" Michael asked.

"Traces of talcum powder from the latex gloves the killer wore," Test replied. "And before you ask, no, the talcum doesn't match the colored powder sprinkled over the victims."

"And you still have no idea what that was?" Faith asked.

"No. I understand CSI took a sample and is waiting for an analysis."

"Were there any defensive injuries?"

"None. No sign at all that the victims were even aware of the attack until their necks were… until the killing blows were struck."

"So the killer sneaked up from behind," Michael deduced.

"Yes. It appears the killer did place a hand over Samantha Reynard's mouth before killing her. Based on the bruising around her mouth, he had to lean over her. With Cassidy Holt, there were no other injuries of any kind."

"He probably killed Samantha while she was sitting on the couch then," Faith surmised. "Covering her mouth was necessary to give him the extra half second to position his other hand and twist before she could scream."

"I do want to clarify," Dr. Test said, "that we aren't sure if it's a he or a she yet. Looking at the bruising around Samantha's mouth, the killer's fingers are relatively delicate. Not necessarily female, but possibly so."

"We'll keep that in mind," Faith said. "Thanks for the reminder. We sometimes refer to killers with a male pronoun because in our experience, ritualistic killers—especially spree and serial killers—are almost always male."

Dr. Test sighed. "Why is that? I mean, I understand the idea of sexual obsession. I'm just as sexual as any other man, but I don't understand the association of sexual gratification with violence and death. Why would you fantasize about hurting a woman or forcing her to have sex with you? Not that our killer did, but…" he sighed. "I'm sorry. I suppose it's not professional of me to say this, but deaths involving younger women affect me in ways other deaths don't. I guess we all fixate on beauty in one way or another."

"It's very possible that there isn't a sexual component to this crime," Faith said. "We naturally gravitate toward that assumption because the victims are naked, but each time we approach it, we find nothing other than the nudity to back it up. It's probably important to our killer that the victims are women, but if he really was this businesslike with his actions, then we can probably put sex to bed—pardon the sort of pun."

"That could suggest that our killer is female," Michael offered.

"It could," Faith agreed. "Would it take a lot of physical strength to snap someone's neck, Doctor?"

"It would take a firm motion," Dr. Test replied, "but well within the parameters of normal female strength. If done precisely—and it was—then you could snap someone's neck with only moderate effort."

"That's a lovely thought," Michael said.

Dr. Test smiled sadly. "Ours is a bad line of work for people who like to sleep at night."

"You can say that again."

"What about the way the bodies were positioned?" Faith asked. "With Cassidy turtled and Samantha starfished?"

Dr. Test grimaced slightly at Faith's marine analogies. "Beats me. I don't really have a head for motives. I'm much better as a scientist. That's why I went to medical school instead of the police academy. I can tell you that the positions were important to the killer because Cassidy Holt was positioned so that her body wouldn't move out of that pose. Her head was placed in between her knees and her arms and legs were manipulated so that by lying her on her left side with her right hand under her left knee, gravity would hold her limbs roughly in place."

"How roughly?" Michael asked.

"If anything, she would have started out folded even more tightly. To be honest, if it weren't for Samantha Reynard suffering the same injury, I would have said that the killer broke Cassidy Holt's neck to make it easier to fold her into that pose."

Faith crossed her arms and bit her lip again. "The powder means something. I think that whatever it means, it's coordinated to those poses. Black with turtling, White with starfishing."

"Do you have to say it like that?" Michael asked irritably. Apparently, he didn't like the analogy anymore than Dr. Test did.

Faith ignored his complaint and stood. "Is there anything else you can tell us, doctor?"

He shook his head. "I'm afraid not. I wish you two luck, though." Turk barked, and he corrected himself. "You three. I have a niece who's attending Brown this fall. I hate to imagine that there are people out there who would do something so sick to her."

Faith didn't point it out, but their killer was hardly the first person in history to prey on lone women. Society had come a long way from living in caves and hitting people with clubs to solve arguments, but women living alone were still the most vulnerable and preyed upon group on Earth.

And some people hadn't left the violence of prehistoric man behind.

***

"I think we look into the symbolism first," Michael said. "We can rule out sex and we won't know if the powder's composition means anything until we get that report back. We're still waiting for Samantha's boyfriend to get back from Brazil, and we're waiting for Hilary to tell us if anyone in Cassidy's life could help us. The poses are what we have now. We need to figure out if they mean anything."

"How do we do that?" Faith asked. "Search for ‘what's the meaning of murdering someone then forcing them to hug their knees?'"

Michael frowned and sipped his coffee. The three of them were eating breakfast at a café near the medical examiner's office. Their cruiser was still at their hotel, and while that was only a few minutes away by bus, they decided to eat and brainstorm before they decided their next move.

"Maybe not the composition of the powder," he said, "but the color. Let's see if looking up black powder and white powder gives us anything."

"Well, it'll give us something," Faith quipped, "but I don't think it's the thing we're looking for."

Michael's frown deepened into a scowl. "Could you possibly not be a pessimist right now? We just got started. Let's try something other than waiting around for the cops to give us a lead."

"All right," Faith said, lifting her hand placatingly. "I'm not trying to be pessimistic. I'm just venting. I don't know, something about this case is just disturbing to me. More than usual. I think it's the fact that he snapped their necks. It just feels so… clinical. But brutal too. Like they were tools to him, and he had to be careful not to make them unusable by staining them."

"See? That's something already," Michael said. "That's the beginning of a profile. That fits with the lack of sexual deviancy. You might admire a hammer for its usefulness, but you don't want to have sex with a hammer."

"A clumsy analogy," Faith said, "but an accurate one. Okay, so he sees them as tools. Now let's figure out what he's trying to build."

The two of them began searching on their phones for anything that might help them. The first few searches turned up the results Faith expected. Putting naked into any search essentially meant that search engines gave you porn. White and black powder, not surprisingly, brought up images of various drugs. Combining the two showed Faith a lot of pictures of people doing said drugs in various states of undress.

"Geez, people are sick," Michael said. "Are we really that barbaric when it comes down to it?"

"I mean, I'm not condoning," Faith said, "but I think snorting coke off of someone's stomach is a little bit better than murdering them."

"I know, I just mean… why are we so obsessed with sensation? Hell, forget it. I'm just an old fogey. I don't know what I'm—hold on."

Faith lifted her gaze from her own phone. Even Turk lifted his head and stared intently at Michael. "What is it? Do you have something?"

"Maybe. Have you ever heard of the Magnum Opus?"

Faith's brow furrowed. "Like in music?"

"No. Like in alchemy?"

"Alchemy? Like turning lead into gold?"

"Yes. That's what the Magnum Opus is. It means Great Work, and it's the name of the ritual to turn lead into gold."

"Our killer's trying to turn lead into gold?"

"Well, I don't know, but I found something about the Magnum Opus that talks about using different powders to use magic to transmute lead into gold."

"You've lost me."

"I haven't really found myself," he replied, "but it mentions here that you're supposed to use ‘powder dark as suit for the nigredo and powder white as snow for the albedo. "

"Does it say anything about bodies?"

"It says that the shapes must be exact for the ritual to work. No mention of bodies, but we've found thinner connections before and made them work." Seeing Faith's skeptical look, he said, "It's something to do while we're waiting for a more promising lead."

She sighed. "Okay, well, how do we follow up on this Magnum Opus?"

"Well, I found this manuscript on the website of the University of Chicago Library. It gives Professor Harold Cranston as the translator. If I look him up… he still works at the University as a Professor of Antiquities."

"That's a thing?"

"I guess so? It says it in his bio."

Faith shrugged. "I guess a shot in the dark is still a shot. Let's go talk to Professor Cranston."