Profiling a Killer

by Nichole Severn

“We have someone in the bureau who’s keeping her parents updated on the investigation and giving them a timeline of when they can claim her remains. As soon as we get what we need here, I’ll have them contact you about packing up her things. Thanks for your help. I’ll let you know when we’re finished.” Nicholas took the offered key from the super and closed the door as the older man disappeared into the hallway.

  Aubrey swallowed through the tightness in her throat as she studied the bright colors of Paige’s bedroom directly on the left, the photos of the victim and her friends and family smiling back from their positions on her dresser. “I hadn’t thought about what happens after you close this case. I haven’t really had time, I guess. I’ll need to make Kara’s arrangements after Dr. Caldwell issues the death certificate. My parents will want a funeral, but I’ll be the one having to deal with all the details and packing up her apartment. I’ll be the one who has to explain to them why she was targeted.”

  Nicholas’s boots echoed off the hardwood as he maneuvered around the end of Paige’s bed, those green-blue eyes taking in every detail. A large cutout revealed a straight shot view into the main living space. The double sliding glass door leading out to the third-floor balcony was the only source of natural light in the one-bedroom, one-bathroom apartment, and highlighted the damaged skin along the right side of his face. He raised his gaze to hers. “You think they’ll blame you.”

  “Yes.” She hadn’t realized how deep that fear had tunneled into the base of her core being. “And why shouldn’t they? I do. I’m the end result, aren’t I? His masterpiece. He used Kara to get to me, to draw me into this sick mind game, and she was the one who ended up paying the price. How am I supposed to live with that? How am I supposed to face my parents when this case is closed?”

  “The same way you’ve faced everything else up until now.” Nicholas stilled, every ounce of his focus on her, and a massive flood of appreciation filled her.

  “With burned doughnuts, cartoons and my very own charming profiler to unload my emotional baggage onto?” Her attempt at a smile failed as her bottom lip trembled. He wasn’t just a profiler. Not to her. Over the course of the past four days, he’d become so much more. Her friend, her partner, her anchor in a storm she hadn’t seen coming, and a small part of her believed whatever was happening between them could survive this case. That what they’d been through together in that slaughterhouse had forged the invisible connection between them into something stronger. Something unbreakable.

  “Don’t discount the effects a nice hot shower can have on your mental and physical health, too, Doc.” He hit her with a crooked smile, and her gut coiled tighter. “You think I’m charming?”

  “Well, you haven’t turned and run screaming after finding out what I do for a living, so you’ve got that going for you.” Aubrey picked up the nearest photo the victim had set on top of her dresser near an open jewelry box. Paige’s straight, white teeth flashed in a wide smile as she stared up at the man beside her. A boyfriend? From the position of the camera and the height of the victim, it looked as though the man stood at least six inches taller than Paige, putting him around six feet. Dark brown eyes glittered as he pulled Paige into an overexaggerated kiss, bending her backward with the support of both of his hands, and an instant ping resonated behind Aubrey’s sternum. Paige had been happy in the photo. In love.

  A brilliant diamond ring caught the light from the victim’s hand, and she made a visual inspection of the jewelry box beside where the photo had stood. It wasn’t there. Scanning the nightstands on either side of the bed, she found them bare. “If we want to find out where the book club met, we’ll want to question Paige’s fiancé. He might know when and where the meetings occurred.”

  Nicholas circled around the end of the bed, and she handed him the frame. His hand brushed against her own, resurrecting the delicious tendril of heat she couldn’t seem to shake when he was near, and Aubrey wanted nothing more than to hold on to that a bit longer. “Her friends and family never mentioned anything about a fiancé or a boyfriend.”

  “This photo says otherwise. Paige wouldn’t have kept a picture like this unless she was still seeing him, but that’s not why I wanted you to look at it. Look at the ring.” She pointed to the glistening diamond. “It’s not in her jewelry box, and she wasn’t wearing an engagement ring when we found her remains on the pier. Dr. Caldwell or his assistant would’ve noted it in the autopsy report. Medical examiners are required to account for every personal effect taken off the deceased, including cash, jewelry and phones. We have to call it out to our assistants and anyone else around so we can’t be accused of stealing from the dead.”

  “I recognize this guy. I talked to him. He was outside Kara’s apartment, behind the perimeter tape.” The lines between Nicholas’s eyebrows deepened. He turned the photo toward her as though he expected her to remember anything more than discovering her sister’s body at that scene. “He told me he was training to become a crime scene photographer. Simon something. Simon... Curry. Said he’d been following my career since the X Marks the Spot case...then he asked about you.”

  A shiver solidified in her gut. She stared at the photo, willing her brain to take the memories of her attacker and fit them into this mystery man’s profile, but she couldn’t. Not without hearing his voice. Because no matter how many times she’d tried to bury that sound in a box at the back of her mind, it’d been permanently engraved. She’d never forget that voice, and she never wanted to hear it again. Pieces of conversation broke free from memories of the slaughterhouse.

  “The killer said he’d loved Paige, that he was the only one who really knew her.” She forced herself to keep her pulse even. She studied the redheaded, muscular man in the photo. Was Simon Curry the killer? “He knew the first victim intimately and was photographing the crime scene of the second. According to Dr. Caldwell, Paige was already dead by the time I discovered Kara outside her apartment, but Simon Curry didn’t mention anything about his fiancée being missing?”

  “No, and he wasn’t the one who reported her missing, either. Her mother called the police after Paige failed to show up for her parents’ anniversary party.” Nicholas pried the photo from the frame and slid it into his back pocket. Circling back around the queen-size bed, he searched the opening leading into what Aubrey assumed was the victim’s closet. “There’s no evidence Curry was living here with his fiancée. No clothes hanging in the closet. No men’s shoes or any toiletries in the bathroom. If Simon Curry and Paige Cress were engaged, they were keeping it from her family.”

  “They looked so happy in that photo. Why keep the news to themselves?” she asked.

  “I’m not sure yet, but that will be one of the first questions I ask him when we bring him in for questioning.” Nicholas stepped back out into the hallway, the same dead expression she’d noted in her sister’s apartment smoothing his rugged features. He maneuvered into the main living space. His boots skimmed across the hardwood floor and seemed overly loud in her ears.

  “Paige Cress worked a lot of long nights being one of the most requested paralegals in her firm, which explains the lack of a pet, decor and personalization other than the bedroom. This wasn’t a sanctuary to her as Kara’s apartment had been. This place was a necessity. Somewhere close to the office where she could sleep and shower then start fresh the next day.” He moved into the kitchen lining one wall and opened the refrigerator. “Empty. Her work was her life. She loved her job. She was good at it. Her friends said they hadn’t seen her in months because of her busy schedule. So how did she find the time for a serious relationship?”

  Aubrey followed on his heels into the living room. Pulling one of the true crime titles they’d identified from the photos taken by Nicholas’s team from the bookcase, she opened the hardcover wide. A note in strong, masculine handwriting cut through the book’s title page. “‘To Paige, my Gingerbread Woman. Never stop searching for the truth. Lo
ve, Simon, the Watcher.’”

  “The Watcher.” Nicholas’s voice dipped into dangerous territory as he took the book from her. “That can’t be right. Ellis Hull has been behind bars for over a year after being tied to the deaths of twelve tourists, and our victim wasn’t the Gingerbread Woman. Evidence proved Irene Lawrence suffocated those women in her law firm after she felt threatened they’d get in the way of her making partner.”

  “‘My Gingerbread Woman.’ It’s his nickname for her.” A flood of warmth raced up her neck. “Simon gave the victim this book. He meant it as an intimate gift. You said Paige’s social life had taken a hit with so many hours put in at the office the past few months. Makes sense she most likely met Simon Curry in one of the places she frequents the most, and the connection between Kara and Paige is a true crime book club.”

  “Simon Curry is a member, too. He’s signed his name as the Watcher for Paige.” Nicholas studied the left-to-right slanted handwriting in pitch-black ink. “His nickname for her matches the MO by which she was killed.”

  “It sounds like Paige and Simon used those nicknames for each other.” Aubrey pulled the fourth title, Eat the Darkness: Exposing the Watcher, from the shelf and read the back summary to herself. “According to this, the Watcher abducted tourists from public areas overseas without anyone noticing. Within a few months, police uncovered their bodies dismembered in a seaside cave. Twelve in total, but the Watcher was apprehended by Interpol within a few months.”

  She flipped through the book, noting highlights and notes written in feminine handwriting. “It’s possible each member of the club took on a nickname inspired by one of the killers they were studying.”

  “Only Simon took it a step further.” Nicholas closed the book, his eyes darker than a few minutes ago. “Claiming a killer’s nickname wasn’t enough. He was inspired by the real thing.”

  Chapter Twelve

  “I’ve never been in an interrogation room before. What’s the special occasion, Agent James?”

  Simon Curry took his seat across the table as Nicholas planted the case file in front of him. Dark eyes, nearly black, scanned the two-tone gray walls, the reinforced electrical outlet to Curry’s right and the one-way glass that protected Aubrey from facing a possible suspect in her abduction on the other side. A thick red beard failed to hide the slight nervousness of the man’s mouth. Curry’s forehead wrinkles deepened as Nicholas sat across the stainless-steel table. At six feet, Simon Curry matched the musculature and height of the bastard who’d attacked him and Aubrey at the pier, but it would take a lot more than the suspect’s frame to tie him to two murders. “Does the BAU need the photos I took at the crime scene the other day?”

  “No, Simon. The photographer we have on staff did a great job. We have everything we need from the scene.” Nicholas opened the file in front of him and pulled a stack of developed and oversize photos from Kara Flood’s crime scene free, including those documenting the victim outside her apartment. Positioning them one next to the other across the table, Nicholas watched Simon’s expression bleed from excitement to disbelief. “Do you recognize this woman?”

  “That’s X Marks... That’s Kara.” Simon pushed the photos back across the table as a tendril of anger surfaced. “She was the victim at the crime scene? Holy hell, why are you showing these to me?”

  “You were going to call her X Marks the Spot, weren’t you?” Nicholas asked. “The nickname she took on as a member of the same true crime book club you’re part of.”

  Curry crossed his arms over his chest—defensive—and avoided looking at the crime scene photos in front of him. He raised one hand in a dismissive gesture, and hints of the man’s aftershave filled the space between Nicholas and the suspect.

  “I’m part of a book club. So what? We all take on the nickname we’re assigned during our first meeting. It’s tradition, and Kara... She was always so interested in the X Marks the Spot Killer case because her sister was the medical examiner assigned to the investigation. She kept asking questions, seeing if anyone knew something more than what was in the book we were reading, and the name just kind of stuck with her. She thought it would give her something to talk about with her sister, that learning about the case would bring them closer. She would always brag about how Dr. Flood was the one who gave the BAU what they needed to identify Cole Presley. She was proud of her.”

  Nicholas glanced toward the one-way glass, easily envisioning Aubrey on the other side. Kara Flood had joined the true crime book club to understand her sister, to show she cared about her, to show she loved her. With all the friends and family who’d turned their backs on Aubrey because of her work as a medical examiner, Kara had been in the process of showing her sister how proud she was of her before she’d died. “And what about Paige Cress?”

  Three distinct lines appeared between Curry’s eyebrows. “What about her?”

  “Paige was a member of the book club, too, right? And you and she were involved intimately? Although Paige’s family and friends don’t recall her having a boyfriend or a fiancé.” He unpocketed the photo he and Aubrey had discovered in the victim’s apartment and unfolded it before sliding it across the table.

  “Where did you get this?” Simon asked.

  “Paige’s apartment. This, too.” He tugged the book Aubrey had taken from the victim’s bookcase and opened it to the title page. “This is your handwriting, right? Paige called you her Watcher and you called her your Gingerbread Woman.”

  “Why do you have this? Why do you have any of this?” Simon’s voice echoed off the bare walls as he picked up the photo of him and the first victim. “What’s going on here?”

  “Paige Cress is dead, Simon, but I have the feeling you already knew that.” Nicholas tugged another set of crime scene photos from the case file and spread them over the top of the first. “She was murdered and dumped in a maintenance shed at the waterfront up to twenty hours before you showed up at Kara Flood’s crime scene. Suffocated. Just like the Gingerbread Woman suffocated her victims. I’m sure you know the case, considering your true crime book club read the book detailing the investigation recently. Paige was a paralegal, she was suffocated with her own jacket and a photo of her body was found at Kara Flood’s crime scene. It all lines up.”

  “No. This...this isn’t happening. Paige can’t be dead.” Simon pushed away from the table, his chair hitting the back wall, and every muscle in Nicholas’s body hardened with battle-ready tension. Only this time, the son of a bitch wouldn’t take him or Aubrey by surprise. In fact, he’d never lay a hand on the medical examiner again.

  Curry speared both hands through his hair and fisted chunks. It was all a very good act. The apparent grief, the shock. “It was a stupid fight. She isn’t dead.”

  Nicholas straightened. “What fight?”

  “Paige was getting cold feet about the wedding. We hadn’t told anybody we were engaged because her family wanted her to focus on her career before she settled down, but I didn’t want to lie to them anymore. She didn’t want to tell them until we were already married. She wanted to elope, but I tried to talk her out of it. She made me move my stuff out of her apartment that night and told me she needed some time to think about her future, but when I left five days ago, she was still alive. She won’t answer my messages or call me back.” Curry scrubbed a hand down his face. “And now...are you positive the body you found is her?”

  “The county medical examiner confirmed her identity through dental records and a fracture Paige sustained when she was younger. X-rays don’t lie.” Nicholas gathered the photos back into the case file and closed the manila folder. “I need you to tell me where you were between nine and midnight the night after your fight with Paige, Simon, and I need the contact information of anybody who can corroborate your whereabouts at that time.”

  “Is that...is that when she... I knew I shouldn’t have left her alone. We could’ve worked it out.
Maybe if I hadn’t pushed her, she’d still be alive.” Confusion overwhelmed the grief in the suspect’s expression. Curry regained a small amount of control, his shoulders rising on a strong inhale as he clutched the back of the chair. “That night. I, uh, I went back to my apartment. I spent the rest of the night drinking myself stupid in front of the TV. Alone.”

  “No one can vouch for you that you were in your apartment all night?” he asked. “What about a bite mark? Paige Cress bit her attacker before she died. Can you prove it wasn’t your skin the medical examiner pulled from between her teeth?”

  “Paige and I were engaged. We were sleeping together. Sometimes it got more passionate than we planned. She’d bite and scratch me all the time, but that doesn’t mean I killed her.” Anger strengthened the level of Simon Curry’s voice again. “You said Paige was murdered with the same MO the Gingerbread Woman used on her victims, and from the photos you showed me of Kara Flood, she was killed with the X Marks the Spot Killer’s MO. Strangled with an X carved into her right cheek. Both of them were killed with the same MO as their nicknames, so it had to be someone from the book club.”

  “I’m going to need a list of members, Simon,” Nicholas said.

  “I don’t have a list. We don’t... We don’t know each other’s real names or see each other outside the club. We call each other by our nicknames,” Curry said. “We just met at some after-hours coffee shop called AfterDark.”

  “You and Paige shared your real names. You had a relationship outside the club. You were living together. The proof is right there on the title page of this book you gifted her.” Nicholas wrote down the name of the coffee shop in his notepad and motioned to the book in front of him. “And you recognized Kara Flood.”

  “Paige and I were an anomaly. We didn’t mean for it to happen. It just...did. I loved her. I was ready to spend the rest of my life with her.” Curry enunciated his point with an index finger pressed into the surface of the table between them. “And Kara let her real name slip during a discussion a few months back. She wanted us to know she was related to the medical examiner who worked the X Marks the Spot Killer case, and Paige took advantage of it. They started a true crime podcast together. It was really taking off, bringing in a lot of sponsorship opportunities.”