Closure

The cops at the scene gave Zach a wide berth while he continued his slow perusal of the corpse. His hands were clasped behind his back, his head tilted to one side as if the angle would give him an advantage. He was impressed with this murder. He'd seen a lot of messy crime scenes that immediately told him if the murder had been committed in the heat of the moment, a crime of passion, a crime of hate, or a drug deal gone bad. But this scene was almost a pleasure to work as far as Zach was concerned. It was nice and tidy in spite of the hideous method used to kill the man.

This murder had not been committed in the heat of the moment—it had been planned to the tiniest detail. There was no heated rage in this one—no, this was cold rage that had deadly, calculated results. This was personal. The killer had known his victim, had planned the murder, probably for years before actually carrying out the plan. There would be no regret, no remorse on the part of whoever had committed the crime.

No—Zach shook his head and smiled almost imperceptibly—whoever killed this man was proud of their work.

Zach wasn't a profiler, but he'd been on the job long enough to be able to figure out a few things on his own, without bringing in a psychologist to do it for him. Whoever had killed this man was making a point, and the hatred he felt for the victim was a palpable entity hanging on the air.

The nude body had been hung spread eagle between two small but sturdy pine trees. Nylon ropes had left deep cuts in the wrists and ankles where the victim had struggled against them. The body had been disemboweled, probably while the victim was still alive. The neck was swollen with an ugly purplish-blue tint to it. Embedded in the folds of skin was a narrow leather band, and there were bruises and singed skin over the torso that looked as if a stun gun had been used. But the icing on this cake, the thing that really told Zach what the killer thought of his victim, was the man's penis protruding from his mouth. The skin had been peeled and was hanging below it, stiffening in the hot desert air.

“Poor bastard really pissed somebody off,” the detective mumbled.