“That’s symbolic, if you want to know my guess. Not literal.” We started walking. “I think this killer is disgruntled, angry, feels a certain person in power or perhaps people in power are responsible for his problems in life.”

“Like the Unabomber,” I said as we took the elevator up.

“Very similar. Perhaps even inspired by him,” he said, glancing at his watch. “Can I buy you a beer before you leave?”

“Not unless someone else is driving.” I smiled. “But you can talk me into coffee.”

We walked through the gun-cleaning room, where dozens of FBI and DEA agents were breaking down their weapons, wiping them and blasting parts with air. They glanced at us with curious eyes, and I wondered if they had heard the rumors. My relationship with Wesley had been an item of gossip for quite a long time at the Academy, and it bothered me more than I let on. Most people, it seemed, maintained their belief that his wife had left because of me when, in fact, she had left because of another man.

Upstairs, the line was long in the PX, a mannequin modeling the latest sweatshirt and range pants, and Thanksgiving pumpkins and turkeys in the windows. Beyond, in the Boardroom, the TV was loud, and some people were already into popcorn and beer. We sat as far away from everyone as we could, both of us sipping coffee.

“What’s your slant on the France connection?” I asked.

“Obviously, this individual is intelligent and follows the news. Our relations with France were very strained during their nuclear weapons testing. You may recall the violence, vandalism, boycotting of French wine and other products. There was a lot of protesting outside French embassies, the U.S. very much involved.”

“But that was a couple years ago.”

“Doesn’t matter. Wounds heal slowly.” He stared out the window at darkness gathering. “And more to the point, France would not appreciate our exporting a serial killer to them. I can only suppose that is what deadoc is implying. Cops from France and other nations have been worrying for years that our problem would eventually become theirs. As if violence is a disease that can spread.”

“Which it is.”

He nodded, reaching for his coffee again.

“Maybe that would make more sense if we believed the same person killed ten people here and in Ireland,” I said.

“Kay, we can’t rule out anything.” He sounded tired as he said that again.

I shook my head. “He’s taking credit for someone else’s murders and now threatening us. He probably has no idea how different his M.O. is from what we’ve seen in the past. Of course, we can’t rule out anything, Benton. But I know what my findings tell me, and I believe identifying this recent victim is going to be the key.”

“You always believe that.” He smiled, playing with his coffee stirrer.

“I know who I work for. Right this minute, I work for that poor woman whose torso is in my freezer.”