"Good, then you'll see why he concerns me. Now back to the topic. If your parents did kill these couples, it is highly likely they have some form of antisocial personality disorder. What does that mean for you? First, bear it in mind when you speak to your mother. She may appear to be a loving and kind parent ... for a reason."
"Because it's what I want to see. Because it will get me on her side, helping her appeal."
He nodded. "Or she might truly be innocent. You see the conundrum? Just be aware and be wary. More important, though, I think you're wondering what it means for you. If both your parents did have some form of disorder. Is it hereditary?" He leaned forward. "I wish I could answer that, Olivia. But psychiatry is such an imprecise science. We aren't diagnosing cancer. Personality is a combination of genetics and learned behavior, and we have no idea how much of each explains why people do what they do."
"Nature versus nurture."
"The great debate. I can tell you this, though. There is no evidence of a genetic basis for serial killing." He eased back. "Now, you wanted to know more about serial killers in general. I think it might help to talk a bit about couples who kill. It's rare, but your parents' case is even rarer."
"Because there were no sexual aspects."
He smiled. "You've done your homework. Yes, in every case I've studied--and I'm happy to share my notes on them--couple killings included sexual violation of the victims. These did not."
"Because they were ritualistic. That was the purpose."
"Perhaps. But I would argue that the killings did not deviate entirely from the established pattern for serial killing couples. Just because the Larsens didn't violate the victims doesn't mean there wasn't a sexual motivation. It was just less overt. Less direct."
I thought about that, then said, "You think they used the violence as a stimulant. Sadistic foreplay."
"Yes, and I think that explains the ritual aspect. They were acting out a fantasy." He paused. "Of course, that only applies if the Larsens were actually the killers."
I nodded.
"I do think you need to pursue Christian, Olivia. There's a chance he killed Peter and Jan. There might even be a chance he committed all the murders. But if you want to consider motivations for the Larsens, I'd strongly suggest you take a look at that one. I'll give you my notes. You can draw your own conclusions."
What did I think of Evans's theory? I had no idea. Figuring out why my parents might have killed eight people wasn't my priority right now. I needed to focus on the last two and whether Christian Gunderson could be responsible.
Chapter Forty-seven
I had the day shift on Friday and took a five-minute break to call Tim Marlotte. He had little interest in seeing me again ... until I told him I'd learned a few things about Jan and Christian's relationship, and he decided he could find time for me after all. We set up a meeting at his condo.
Our interview was not pretty. I lied, I bullied, and I charmed with an eerie deftness, and in the end he actually thanked me for persuading him to unburden himself.
I don't believe Marlotte had known that Christian had the hots for his sister, but he did suspect their relationship was a little too close. As the years went by, I think he'd understood more, looked back, and wondered if, subconsciously, he'd known exactly what was going on and had joined Christian in manipulating Jan because it benefited him. Now he knew that deception may have played a role in her death and the death of Peter Evans. Heavy stuff.
To redeem himself, Marlotte was willing to share every vaguely sinister detail he knew about his former best friend's life. I didn't even need to prompt him with the "potential serial killer" checklist Evans had provided. The guy already knew the early signs from a college psychology project. Coincidence? Maybe not.
From sleepovers, Marlotte knew that Christian had been a bed-wetter until he seemed to overcome the issue around twelve. He'd never been known to kill small animals, but Marlotte did have a cat go missing once, and he seemed to recall that it happened shortly after the animal scratched Christian's eye, a minor but extremely painful injury. While he couldn't recall Christian committing arson, he'd been very keen on camping bonfires and always insisted on tending them. Though he'd only attended community college, he had an above-normal IQ--he just couldn't seem to achieve the grades to match. As for his family, there were none of the obvious markers--no absent father, no domineering mother, no alcoholic parent, no unstable family life, much less time spent in institutions. His father obviously had a few loose wires, though.
All this meant Christian hit some markers on the checklist. Or grazed them. I suspect many people would. As for occult connections, Marlotte remembered that Christian enjoyed Halloween. He'd liked horror novels as a teen. He'd owned a necklace with a pentacle, bought at a rock concert and never worn because it might upset his mother. In other words, he'd been about as interested in the occult as the average person.
When I left, I hadn't achieved any amazing breakthroughs, but I hadn't learned anything that discounted the Christian-killed-his-sister-in-a-jealous-rage theory, either. A decent start.
I got home in time to make a choice. I could have dinner and read Evans's case files. Or I could go try a karate class. I wasn't hungry, I wasn't ready to read those files, and my body screamed for exercise. So I opted for number two.
As I walked into the community center, I was mentally running through the Marlotte interview as if some new lead would magically leap out. I dimly heard the slam of car doors as children spilled out and shrieked past me.
In my half daze, I walked into the gym and saw a dozen figures dressed in white robes. Small figures.
They were all children.
Before I could retreat, a voice called "Liv?" and there was Gordon Webster, the hardware store owner, in a white robe with a black belt. He walked over, grinning.
"Hey," he said. "Are you joining us?"
I looked around. "I was going to, but I think I'm a little old."
"No, no. It's all ages. We do have one adult-- And here she is now."