“What’s our serial killer’s profile?”
I flipped the pages to where I’d jotted as much information as possible about the killer based on all the crimes committed.
“We know for sure this is a male?” Knight asked.
“Almost a hundred percent. When you go through the entire file, you’ll see why. We’re looking at a male anywhere between thirty and fifty. Anything under thirty would be a bit too young for when the crimes started. Some of the victims were dragged from where they were killed. Given the sizes of their bodies, he has to be a bigger man, at least medium build.”
“Family?”
“Possibly married. He seems to have no vendetta against women. His victims—those we know of—are all men. Most of them moving in high places. High illegal places.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Except for your wife. Your wife’s case is certainly different. You never found her body, did you?”
I swallowed past the lump in my throat. “No.”
“Isn’t that odd? You found all his other victims’ bodies. He didn’t even attempt to hide them. Why not do the same with your wife?”
“I know what you’re thinking. Her disappearance doesn’t fit the killer’s MO.”
“You can’t say it does.”
“Unless he decided to fuck with me and throw me off because I’m the face of this criminal investigation.” This was a clear taunt that I’d brought the other victims’ families closure by presenting them with a body, but I would never get the same.
“Hmm, that’s possible.” Knight returned his attention to the folder. “I’m going to need a copy of this to go.”
“To go?”
“Yes. We’re not working from here, Detective. We have a black site here in the city where we’re carrying out our investigation.” He smirked at me. “Consider this your invitation.”