by V. F. Mason
My attitude is disrespectful to all of them and to me. I’ve worked my ass off for the position I have now. Even if criminal psychology’s door is forever closed for me, the rest welcome me with open arms. I attend every convention, have connections in many places, and make sure to write a daily column for one of the female blogs.
This counts for something, a hell of a fucking lot.
Wiping away the wetness from my cheeks, I get up, put on my sunglasses, and grin widely, hoping I will find peace in knowing I’m doing something valuable.
Even if catching serial killers is not one of those things.
New York, New York
May 2018
Ella
Silence echoes through the space as the soft light showcases the office in a mysterious way, with not another soul around. No one’s stuck around after hours; most of them have a family. All the desks are neat and tidy, as the janitor lady has cleaned already and left, but not before warning me to make sure not to mess the place up or she will remember my name.
I sure as hell won’t leave a mess.
I’ve spent the whole day going over the case in between a few different ones too. Mostly it was paperwork, and we didn’t have much to do on them.
Kierian stayed true to his word and even dropped me a few blocks away so no one would see us driving in together. He acted so distant and professional that no one could have guessed what we’d shared.
He wanted to take me home, but I refused, because I need to concentrate on the case. Or that was the excuse I gave him.
Truthfully, I’m surprised he let it go so easily, and relieved at the same time. He respects my boundaries and doesn’t try to push this thing on me, now that I’ve stopped denying there is one.
I can totally work with that.
But deep down, I can admit to myself I’m a little bit scared to go back home alone when the unsub knows where I live. And I don’t want to bring all those bad pictures and details home anyway; it’s supposed to be my sanctuary.
No blood or murder belongs in my house.
I try to unscramble all the wounds the unsub has left on the victims, racking my brain for a clue why he would let his dog do the rest. What was the whole point of kidnapping those poor men? To torture and kill them in the vilest ways? Why is he so easily satisfied and doesn’t feel attached to his victims?
Pouring myself a cup of freshly made coffee, I groan inwardly as spasms of pain travel from my nape to my lower back, reminding me of the stiff chairs in the office that drive me crazy. The idea of spending one more minute in it kills me, but I have no other choice, considering I plan to figure it all out tonight.
“You know, ancient Greeks believed all our pain comes from our mind.”
I jump at the soft voice behind me and swirl around on the chair to face Preston holding his bottle of water and smiling at me.
The guy can actually freaking smile!
Blinking a few times, I finally speak. “You don’t say.”
He nods, sitting on my desk while continuing his thought. “Healthy mind in a healthy body. I think they couldn’t name it back then, but they meant psychology. One of the reasons I got interested in this art so many years ago.”
“It’s science,” I correct, but he brushes me off.
“No, it’s the art of learning a mind. What can be greater than that?”
I don’t think I’ve heard the guy talk so much in the span of one minute. “That’s because you love it. I suppose it’s like that for everyone who loves their profession.”
“Maybe the pain in your back will ease once the problem in your head resolves.”
A light laugh escapes me. “And here I was, Preston, hoping it would go away with a nice bath. Seems like I’ll have to live with the pain till the case is closed.”
He doesn’t comment on that, just stares, but then his eyes land on the book, as he exclaims, “The Iliad!” Picking it up, he flips it open while searching for a certain page, and then points his finger to the quote. “My favorite part.”
Everything inside me freezes. I swallow the coffee that all of a sudden becomes bitter in my mouth. My mind registers the words in the quote; my palms get sweaty while my breath hitches.
“It is entirely seemly for a young man killed in battle to lie mangled by the bronze spear. In his death all things appear fair.”
How many people are out there these days who love this book and have a favorite part memorized?
“I see.” My survival instinct screams for me to scoot back and run away from him as he actively studies me and then exhales heavily while adjusting his glasses firmly on his nose.
“Now you think I’m a freak or something. Noah and Kierian love it too. Actually, we had to do it for work.”
Slowly I resume breathing, cursing my stupidity, because honestly, did I seriously think he could be a serial killer? They don’t hang out with us!
“Interesting case?” Why didn’t Kierian mention that to me earlier, then? He could have helped with the research, but he didn’t even offer.
Preston nodded while elaborating. “There was a weird case of a dude who was obsessed with Greek mythology and stuff. He had different quotes scattered around his place, and we sort of had to read a lot of stuff. To understand him, we had to read this book, because he associated himself with King Agamemnon.” He rolls his eyes as if he finds the notion alone stupid. “But we did like the masterpiece.”
“Why?” Maybe if he explains to me his love for it, I can connect all the clues that the unsub desperately wants me to find. And although I realize it’s a dangerous game I’m playing with him, I don’t intend to give up until I find him.
“It shows what war does with mankind in the span of a decade, when people had different lives and values. Of course, some historians claim it’s nothing but a myth, but it was discovered that Troy indeed existed.” He pauses as if gathering his thoughts while I make some notes on my pad. “But also, it’s the characters… it’s very character driven, you know? I think we can all find ourselves there if we try.” His cheeks are flushed and he avoids my stare.
Character driven.
That must be it! He found his character and associates himself with him. “Who was your favorite?” I ask, but he stands abruptly, his water spilling onto his pants as he curses under his breath.
“I won’t tell you now. You have to read it first. I think then you will guess.” With that odd statement, he walks away while I’m left confused.
Even though he didn’t say anything major, a feeling of doom around him doesn’t escape me, and I always trust my instinct. I just can’t name what I find odd about Preston.
Shaking my head from the complicated scenarios, I bring all my attention back to the case while munching on the cookies I was smart enough to bring.
It’s taken me almost eight hours, but I’ve finally figured it out.
And in a way, the truth breaks me.
The profile is done.
Psychopath
The honk of the car snaps my attention to the right as I wave at Christian, our coworker who recently got married, and he motions for me to call him sometime.
Cracking my neck from side to side, enjoying the pleasure it provides me, I think about bringing an iPad next time while waiting for Ella. Nothing but excellent planning has gotten me to this level, the small fact of preparation most serial killers skip.
And that’s why they are caught.
She decided to stay inside last night, working on catching me, and I couldn’t leave her alone without security.
I have every intention to hurt her slightly, but no one else has this right, and with life, you never know. I didn’t work so hard to get her here to have an accident happen and ruin my plans, especially with the anniversary so close.
The idea of spending every night in the car waiting for her doesn’t bother me much. I’ve learned to operate on minimal sleep.
You never know when a monster will decide to disturb your sleep.
“Good morning,” security greets me, while I press my badge to the gate.
“Hey, Karl. Everything good?”
He nods, sipping his tea while several doughnuts lie nearby. “Yes. Only, Ella Gadot stayed the night.” He frowns at that, probably not understanding why a young woman would be this dedicated to the new case.
I don’t understand it either, but a thrill of pleasure spreads into my veins when I think how much my actions attract her mind. She should be careful with her attention, or I’ll bring her a new body.
Once inside the BAU, I stop in my tracks as my eyes drink in the beauty Ella presents asleep at her desk, her body bending while her cheek rests against the plastic table. Her shirt is wrinkled and light puffs of air slip through her lips, emphasizing the fullness of them that I long to bite to see how quickly I can draw blood.
A silky black lock falls across her nose, and she winces a little, not liking it, so I can’t resist removing it. Immediately, she calms down. She looks so innocent right now, so young, so pure that the idea of bringing her to my basement for a second feels wrong.
My darkness shouldn’t touch a person who has already suffered enough nightmares.
But then the smell of her perfume penetrates my nostrils, and it pulls me out of the haze created in my mind by her.
She is mine.
And I will take good care of her once she proves she can stay around… no matter what.
Unfortunately for her, it means being kidnapped and tortured until—
The screams from the past assault me, and I slap my head, grabbing onto the desk while the anger and pain shake my body.
I count to ten as I concentrate only on the numbers and how they look in my head, so no images of the past will enter it again.
In seconds, everything passes, but it once again reminds me that remorse and the greater good hold no meaning for me.
Selfishly, I need Ella to numb the past, and it has to happen sooner rather than later.
Otherwise, I will go insane.
Ella
“Ella, wake up.” A deep voice penetrates through the haze of sleep and my eyes flutter open.
A groan of pain leaves me as I sit up straight, disoriented, while wincing at the stiffness in my back. I should really invest in massages with this job, no joke.
Finally, I register where I am and raise my eyes to the three men standing at my side, each one of them with a different expression. I blink, not used to such attention.
Noah, well put together in his suit as always, has surprise crossing his face as he glances at my spread notes. Avoiding my gaze, Preston sips his coffee and holds one out for me, which I gladly take, and I’m not even surprised it’s my favorite flavor. This guy is full of secrets!
Kierian chuckles in amusement, and once again, my body reacts to that smile, but I shake my head, hoping to escape that. “Hey, sleeping beauty. Rough night?”
Noah rolls his eyes, shooting him a warning, “Kierian.” But then adds, “When I said think about the case, I didn’t mean to stay at the office twenty-four seven.”
That’s when it hits me.
The case!
“I know who he is.” They freeze, zeroing their whole attention on me. Licking my dry lips, I get up, waving a file in front of them. “Well, I mean, I know why he does what he does.”
“Let’s hear it then, because so far we have nothing. In the conference room in five,” Noah orders and goes to his office, leaving me alone with the guys.
“I need to prepare my laptop,” Preston says out of the blue and runs into the computer room.
“It’s not healthy.” Kierian leans closer, removing the strands of hair from my forehead, and this barely noticeable touch surges a rush of energy around us, creating an unfamiliar cocoon, and I swallow. Before I can even blink, he gives me three light pecks on the lips, burning me up with each touch.
This job will be the end of me.
I step back, looking around, hoping that no one saw it. “Kierian.”
He ignores my hiss, as he picks up my books and notes. “We have no restrictions about dating coworkers.”
I almost choke on my drink, wincing as it burns my lips. “You’re sure?”
He shrugs. “No one ever informed me otherwise.”
“Relationships don’t work for me most of the time.” I feel the need to warn him, because if we truly decide to make it a thing, maybe we shouldn’t inform anyone. Who knows how long it will last? “So hold your horses, Kierian.”
“Why not?” Curiosity and boredom, if that’s possible, lace his voice as he moves slowly in the direction of the conference room, where I can see through the glass door to the rest of the team occupying their chairs and laughing at something Jacob shows them on his phone.
“They just don’t.” I’ve tried relationships twice, and both times, I failed.
“Do you know what my most prominent character trait is?” he asks, right before pushing the door wide open.
“What?”
“Stubbornness. And when I want something, I get it. You are mine, Ella. Just accept it,” he whispers against my ear and then steps inside, while I sigh heavily, praying for patience and resistance, because God knows I’ll need it with him.
Unsub, I remind myself. Think about the unsub, Ella.
Noah raises his brow. “You said you’ve got something?” Nodding, I quickly turn around the board that shows us all the victims spread horizontally with the detailed description of their wounds along with some hypotheses about our unsub.
“Okay, so remember how I said it’s odd that the victim’s wife acted so weird?”
Andrea nodded. “Yeah, she wasn’t crying.”
“Right.” I grab the black marker as I go to the white board and quickly write all the wounds. “So first, he goes for the kidneys. Then he moves slowly to the gut. Then it’s the back. And finally the throat and face.”
“We know that,” Jacob’s voice is filled with boredom, and I grit my teeth and continue. A little bit of patience wouldn’t hurt! “Also, once he is done with them, he leaves them for his dog to tear apart. He doesn’t bother to inflict more pain on them than those three main wounds. The last victim was an exception.”
“Ella, I hope you are going somewhere with this, because so far this is all in the file.” Noah drums his pen on the table, although his assertive eyes focus on my writing as if he is trying to figure out my train of thought.
“I’ve spent the last few years working with abused women. Do you know where they were usually hurt? Kidneys/ribs”—with each word, I point at the board, the sound echoing through the space emphasizing it even more—“Stomach. Arms. Back. Throat. And finally face.” You can kick at a kidney and there will be no bruises left.
Kierian crosses his arms and leans on the table while rubbing his chin.
Preston, however, clicks with his fingers, and says, “The wife of the first victim. She was covered from head to toe and got nervous whenever we asked her about family pictures.”
“Connecting all this, I can only make one conclusion.”
“Her husband abused her,” Andrea says, but then straightens. “So our unsub hurts men who abuse their women.”
Noah raises his brow, while scrolling through his file. “That would be the missing piece that connects them all. That’s his victimology.”
“I’ll check out the other victims’ families. Their medical records, absence at work or school, everything.” Preston’s fingers immediately click on the laptop, his focus sharp, and I hope he can find helpful information.
No matter what the unsub does, his killings are wrong. Those men don’t deserve kindness, but he shouldn’t be the judge, jury, and executioner.
“Call in Mary Parker. We need to ask her a few more questions,” Noah says to Andrea, and then his attention is back on me.
“Anything else to add?” The book in my bag weighs heavily on my shoulder and conscience, but I don’t tell him about it. I know it holds the key to figuring out where he is, but if they find out he’s targeted me specifically, they might put me off the case.
The unsub threw me a challenge and I intend to win. People like him are the reason my family died. I’ll put him behind bars, no matter the cost. I can’t give up on my first case.
I shake my head and clear my throat. “I think we will have a profile once we confirm it with Mary. Then we can move on.” And although that’s usually the extent of our job, I hope like hell he makes one more wrong move so we’ll be closer to catching him.
One Hour Later
Ella
“Ella,” Noah calls, and I spin around to face him. “Mary Parker is here. She’s waiting in the office.” Nodding, I quickly grab the file and dart toward the office while searching for the appropriate words in my head.
She’s sitting on the chair, this time alone, while fumbling with her fingers. She shifts uncomfortably as I walk in. “Agent Gadot. Your call surprised me.” She shakes my hand, but at the same time, worry crosses her face.
“There are a few new details regarding your case.”
She freezes, barely breathing. “What details? Is he alive?”
My expression remains neutral, but with this statement, she confirms our profile is correct. Usually a family will demand to see the body, but in this case, she wants to forget him like a bad dream.
“No, of course not. But we have a few questions for you.” She exhales in relief and nods. “I need you to be honest with me please. Everything you say stays in this room, but it will be very important for the case.”
“Yes, okay.”
Pausing for a second, I ask gently, “Mrs. Parker, did he abuse you?” She swallows and casts her eyes down. Working for so long with such women, I know what she is feeling right now. Shame for staying with such a man. But she shouldn’t. “It’s very important for us to know.”