Will looked away and bit his lip.
“I can’t put one detail in place,” he began. “He kills out of hatred for women, wealthy and attractive; he is filled with a rage that can only be quelled by eating their entrails, he is tormented by an anxiety that only goes away from the feeling of being full; he is physically strong and revels in his power over his victim. He does not put on a show for those who will see the corpse, he sets the table for a meal, but does not wait for his family – who rejected him … He waits for a friend – and at the same time eats it himself.”
Allex narrowed his eyes.
“A friend?”
“Yes. The one who will come to dinner. As if there were two of them – one cooking, the other eating.”
“But the friend doesn’t come, and he starts without him?”
Will thought.
“No. I don’t quite get it. A friend comes and gobbles up the treat, greedily, rudely, impatiently opens the gift, tears the wrapper … And the one who cooked it is careful, calm, leaves no evidence.”
Dr. Gasztold spoke as Will and Allex looked at him.
“Dissociative identity disorder is a fairly rare disease,” he said. “More often, however, it is just a combination of psychological defenses, repression, partial amnesia, a state of exaltation. If two personalities live inside the killer, it will be more difficult to find him – he can hide under any guise, especially if the one who does the dirty work to please the other is aware of his actions and does not make mistakes.”
His hand is in the warm, damp cavity of the chest, blood flows between the fingers, tickles the skin, the heart seems to still be pulsating in the palms, the lips touch the smooth, slippery, salty, enticingly smelling flesh. The tongue feels the relief of small furrows, elastic muscle tissue, the teeth press, bite into it, feeling resistance, for a short moment the mouth is coated with saliva mixed with an unchewed piece of meat splashing with juice. It fills the throat, slips down, catches the breath, the ringing in the ears increases, scarlet streams flow down the chin and neck onto the chest, the stomach pulsates with a vague, phantom pain …
Will exhaled sharply, shook his head, his hands on either side of his plate, his back covered in sweat under his checked shirt and pullover, his legs twitching involuntarily under the table.
Another moment – and he would have become aroused, the blood would have flowed back to his face, the hair on his arms would have stood on end. There were two of them … in one.
“He’s feeding him,” Will said quietly, Allex staring at Agent Gatti in awe. “He wants to be friends with him.”
“Why would he be friends with someone who eats people?”
Serret was pretty much to the point … Indeed, why?
Will didn’t know the answer, that’s why he suffered all night before, couldn’t solve the riddle. The friend he fears, the friend he idolized – and doesn’t want to let go … Or wants to tie him to himself.
“What does he look like, Will?” Dr. Gasztold asked.
He had a little idea of his appearance, his face was as if in a fog – even if he imagined that he was looking in the mirror. He does not know who he is … Or he knows – and runs from himself.
Will huffed, sweat beading on his forehead, his chestnut locks darkening and sticking to his face.
“He has body dysmorphic disorder. He thinks he’s a monster,” Special Agent Gatti replied after a moment. “He’s—”
“A demon!” Allex gasped, still staring at Will. “He thinks he’s a demon! He’s feeding a demon!”
He did not share the enthusiasm and joy of the young man, he was gloomy and upset. A man who committed brutal murders, methodically thinking through every step to please the monster inside him, was unpleasant to him … However, the pain and despair with which the Heartthrob reverently prepared dinner for his ‘friend’ penetrated to the bone – the criminal was sick, his mind had distorted logic, inscribing justified cruelty and the need to make a sacrifice into the world picture, suffocating in loneliness.
“Many cults have traditions of bringing gifts to the demon, including to establish a connection with it, to merge with it – and for this there are tools of conditional dissociation. Put on a mask of a beast – become the beast, draw eyes on a stone – make it alive, kill a foe – take his soul. Eat a heart – gain courage, eat a heart – gain love … Among my patients – and yesterday’s guests of the evening – there are no people who would be ready to take such measures – even if rhetorically the prospect of throwing oneself to a demon tempted them.”
The killer’s personality seemed fantastical and paradoxical. A body dysmorphophobic bodybuilder with an oral fixation, holding a grudge against women from an elite Baltimore neighborhood, wanting to be friends with the demon inside him … The demon is sloppy and unrestrained, the criminal himself is calculating and calm. All the victims were united by their privileged status, all four had a certain phenotype of dyed blond blogger-housewives – too common to understand the specifics of the sample.
The punishment of the heartless attractive woman was a metaphor, the Heartthrob could be a rejected admirer or an envious person. Dr. Gasztold’s notes could only be useful for reference, in the first three crimes the killer handled without them.
“We’ve been looking in the area all along,” Will said. “Among the victims we knew, among Dr. Gasztold’s acquaintances. But what if it could have been anyone – and he was just picking them at random?”
Special Agent Gatti claimed that the Heartthrob observed the family tradition of gathering around the dinner table as a rule of etiquette – until he climbed up on the table with his feet and began slicing up his victim. They unanimously decided that the criminal was one of the bon ton, a neighbor of unsuspecting businessmen, artists, successful dentists, and psychiatrists …
He entered the doors using a copy of the key, disabled the alarm with a code, wore expensive shoes – judging by the bloodstains at the crime scene – but was careless in ecstasy when the victim was already dead – from strangulation – and placed on the table. No one saw him before or after – as if he were invisible, a ghost.
All the victims led the same lifestyle – with yoga in the morning, late breakfast, beauty treatments and entertainment events, walks with children and family dinners – with the obligatory demonstration of their culinary talents on social networks.
The victims knew each other – according to their social media accounts, where they tagged each other’s posts – but this did not mean friendship or even fellowship …
But from them one can build a chronology, understand more about their daily routine than their husbands said about the victims.
“I’ll compare their social networks again, whether they went to the same parties or exhibitions,” Allex said. “If they don’t have anything in common, we’ll start looking among delivery guys and cleaning services, and so on until we see a pattern.”
Will wasn’t so overconfident anymore. This Heartthrob seemed like an imposter …
He still felt sick, he shuddered.
“He’s uncomfortable in his own skin,” said Special Agent Gatti, “and so he wants to become someone else.”
“I’ll help you find what he wants to become,” Dr. Gasztold said, looking at Will Gatti, waiting for him to look back. “Whether it’s a mythical character or one he’s made up, it determines his actions and motives.”
6. Pine