“Why punish the other members of the family?” Tucker asked.
“They probably stand for members of his own family,” Emerson replied. “He punishes them in place of those who knew he was being abused and did nothing about it. He satisfies his psychological urges by taking control and disposing of them as he wishes.”
Amaia considered this. “He could be an annihilator. But, as a rule, the annihilators who kill whole families as a demonstration of power and control were subject to terrible abuse as children—physical, emotional, and, in most cases, sexual. Those killers usually torture their victims to inflict upon them the same suffering they themselves were forced to endure. If he’s choosing families because they remind him of his own, he has to be identifying with one of the members. In most documented cases, the killer leaves that person alive. The spared individual escapes unless he presents a threat, and the killer never tortures him. He does inflict great pain on the others, and he doesn’t disguise the injuries, indignities, or humiliations. Just the opposite: he arranges the scene to highlight what he did to them. Annihilators want the world to see what they did and understand the torments they themselves went through.”
Johnson agreed. “I’m intrigued by this line of reasoning. Maybe this time, we’ve encountered something completely different. All the family members were executed, their injuries disguised, and none of them was subjected to any visible indignity. He treated them all the same.”
Amaia nodded. “The only differentiating factor is that the father owned the gun. That’s all. I don’t believe this case involves an annihilator, although it might look that way at first. He’s an evangelical assassin. He identifies those who have sinned and redeems them with death. And now we know he prays for them afterward.”
Emerson was adamant. “I don’t believe that’s relevant. Maybe he’s repentant. But the rest of the profile points to an annihilator. We all agree on that.”
Amaia saw Tucker tilt her head slightly. Emerson didn’t have the support he thought.
“Cognitive bias,” murmured Amaia, annoyed.
“What do you mean by that?” Emerson challenged her, offended.
Amaia took her time. She didn’t expect them to make it easy, but she hadn’t thought they’d want her to accept their views simply because they were FBI agents. She chose her words carefully. “I mean that when you draw up the profile of a killer, you have to be careful to avoid false-consensus bias. It’s human nature to look for evidence we can interpret to confirm our beliefs; it’s just as human to neglect anything that contradicts our views. It’s the same with consensus. There’s a tendency to assume that the theory we propound has more support than it actually does. Often we don’t question our own assumptions, and that’s a mistake. Sometimes lots of people have the same opinion, and they’re all wrong.”
Emerson stared at the floor. Johnson’s sigh of disgust was loud in the silence.
Dupree frowned slightly and stared at her. It was clear this discussion wasn’t to his liking.
Amaia could tell he regarded her as no more than an opinionated rookie—or less, since she wasn’t an actual FBI trainee. Well, it was true she was just a small-town cop from rural Spain, but she insisted on being treated with respect and knew how to stick up for herself. She’d done what she could to complete the exercise, even though she was convinced they’d left out important information. She heard a rustle behind her and saw Dupree acknowledging a signal she couldn’t see from the man seated at the door.
“Go on,” Dupree ordered her.
She nodded in acknowledgment. “It’s the fact that he prays for them that makes him different, and that distinction changes things. We still don’t know whether the praying is significant. It could be decisive. We can’t dismiss it just because it doesn’t fit the standard profile of an annihilator. We need to go deeper.” She spoke directly to Dupree. “And I suspect that’s what you think, as well.”
He raised his eyebrow again, but his skeptical look quickly turned to one of amusement. “Oh, really? What makes you say that?”
“I don’t think it’s a coincidence that you devoted yesterday’s lecture to killers who disguise their crimes.”
Dupree didn’t respond. He leafed through the dossier Amaia had decorated with sticky notes. Finally, he closed it and looked at her. “There are two more notes. In the one related to the victimological profile you say, ‘Same sexes, ages, relations.’ Wouldn’t that tend to confirm the unit’s analysis? If he’s a family exterminator, he’d require the same cast of characters you mention. Each family member would stand for someone he knew, for his own family, so as to give him the opportunity to exact his revenge.”
Amaia shook her head in disagreement. “He’s not seeking revenge; he’s looking for atonement. The cast of characters doesn’t matter to him, but completing the set of victims is extremely important. It’s the family, the concept of family per se. He’s an evangelical killer, but he doesn’t kill the dog, because the animal’s not part of his creation. I’m sure that he didn’t touch any pets.”
She noted sounds of discomfort. Sighs, shifts of position. She’d put all her chips on the table. Her bravado had captured their attention, but she was aware of the risk she had taken.
Amaia sat up straighter. This was winding down. If she didn’t speak now, she’d never have another chance.
“Sir, I couldn’t deliver the profiles without getting the answers to my questions. Information is missing, sir—”
Tucker cut her off. “You could have completed the exercise with the information you had.”
“Knowing information had been withheld confirmed my conclusions,” she replied quickly. “Completing the exercise without all the relevant information would have meant accepting a fraudulent or misleading scenario. The dossier given to us did not mention that they’d been tied up or that the boy saw the killer was wearing a badge.” She regretted her words as soon as they were out of her mouth. She heard the door behind her close. The man who’d sat behind her had just left. She had a foreboding that the closing door had shut off any possibility they’d ever take her seriously.
She half closed her eyes and exhaled slowly before daring to look at Dupree again. He was holding up the last sticky note, the blue one she’d placed on the geographic profile.
He waved it at her. “‘Latent variables’?”
She paused to calm herself and then explained. “Latent or hidden variables, sir. Variables not directly observed but inferred from other information present and visible in the situation. The latent variables indicate he’s done this before and perfected his method. I’m certain there’s at least one other case.”
Emerson smiled malevolently. “Based on what evidence?”
Amaia turned toward him and even allowed herself a momentary smile before replying. “Based on a mathematical model. If you’re really a data analyst, you should be familiar with the method.”
“I know what they are,” he muttered.
“In this case,” she plunged ahead, “they are inferred from Agent Tucker’s declaration that the killer moves across a vast territory.” She remained in the same position and watched as signs of discomfit appeared on Emerson’s face. His eyes refused to meet hers, focusing on the middle distance.