Connor’s gaze shifted to the message on the back of the postmortem photograph. “He’s taunting you.”

“Challenging, I would say.”

Connor’s Irish complexion had grown flushed. “Killers like this goad law enforcement in order to feel something.”

“Malignant narcissism,” Larkin replied. “It provides a sense of superiority, of purpose.”

“Yeah. And these taunts have a long history of turning into threats,” Connor warned. “Against police officers, or against the public. How many photographs have you found so far?”

“Seven. But without a full confession from the perpetrator, it’s impossible to say how many children have been killed between ’85 and now. We have no bodies, no names. The database at the National Center for Missing and Exploited Children isn’t helpful when the circumstances surrounding the disappearances were children running away of their own volition. And since he kills to essentially fill requests, victimology is problematic at best.” Larkin continued, “Sir, when taking into account the Psychopathy Checklist, the array of possible serial murder motives, and the parasitic relation serial killers have with the media, this perpetrator is all over the map. For thirty-five years, this man known as Archie has been undoubtably using charm, manipulation, and intimidation tactics to satisfy his selfish desires. His interpersonal traits would suggest a grandiose sense of self-worth, and the way that Gary Reynold described him, Archie is the go-to man of this sexually deviant community. That would correlate with the lifestyle trait too, of attention-seeking—being the man all these scumbags look up to—”

“Attention-seeking is exactly my point,” Connor interrupted. He held up the folded fax. “He’s escalating.”

“No, no, no. He’s survived and thrived for thirty-five years. His affective traits would suggest no remorse, no guilt, but specifically, failure to accept responsibility. He wouldn’t just….” Larkin struggled a moment to make sense of his thoughts, to put them in the right order. “By challenging me, he’s admitting to murder. A lot of murder. Why would he do that. It’s a red flag in the personality makeup of this man.”

“Then what are you suggesting?” Connor countered.

“I don’t know. There’s something missing. I’ve missed something.”

“You’re a Cold Case detective,” Connor said. “Not a behavioral analysist.”

“But we can’t ignore who Archie is,” Larkin said, his voice rising, catching the interest of other detectives.

Larkin’s desk phone began to ring.

“Your focus is the Garcia boy,” Connor said. “And to find out what the fuck is going on with the DB from the subway. Don’t get lost in all the FBI mumbo jumbo, Grim.”

“The Psychopathy Checklist was an assessment tool designed by Dr. Hare, not the FBI.”

Connor frowned. “Don’t try to get the last word with me. I’m going to make some calls about this fax and run down the sender.” He pointed to the still-ringing phone. “You answer your damn phone.”