He shakes his head. “It’s a shame you’re not still wearing that dress, Bonds.”
Rolling my eyes, I shut down my computer. “Let it go, detective.”
“Just saying. You’d have the full attention of the task force.”
“That borders on sexual harassment, Quinn. And my profile speaks for itself.”
He shrugs. “Maybe so, but there’d be no backlash on the profile if it was delivered by Agent Bonds in a red dress.”
I stand and pull my jean jacket straight. “Then do your job.” I eye him. “Keep your unis in check during the meeting.”
He scowls. “Just you leave them to me. I think you’ll be surprised to find we’re already on the same page. I have specific jobs mapped out for the team—just getting the forensic reports back soon wo
uld help. It’s always a damn waiting game.”
Nodding, I gather up my files and add, “I know, but we also need to look more closely at the victimology, find out why these women were targeted. If their paths ever crossed. During the meeting, we can put the techs on crosschecking their credit cards. See where they bought their coffee. What restaurants they liked. Clothes shops, etcetera.”
Heading for the door, Quinn adjusts his tie. “Gathering a task force on a presumed serial killer could end my career.” His eyes lock on to mine. “That is, if we don’t catch him.”
I hold Quinn’s gaze a moment longer, understanding exactly what he’s voicing. “You could also be shutting down a serial killer before he has the chance to kill again,” I say. “I think you’re making the right call. If you care for my opinion.”
He’s the first to break eye contact as he moves to open the door. “Let’s catch him, then.”
* * *
With the task force underway, guided by my profile of the UNSUB, Quinn and I keep to our own course and head to the Medical Examiner’s office.
I gave the most accurate profile possible based on the facts of our case. During the meeting, when the detectives usually mock and denounce my theories, there was silence. Quinn kept his word and backed up the profile, which I believe was the game changer. But I can’t ignore the nagging feeling that something’s…off. That I made an oversight. Not with the profile directly, but somewhere within the context.
It could be that the acceptance of the profile caught me off guard, or that this case being upgraded to a serial killer has everyone on edge. The atmosphere in the task force meeting hummed with high tension. Maybe it’s just getting to me, too.
And then there’s the missing link; the signature. What every serial killer case needs to be official. With only two bodies, both that were killed just similarly enough, I wasn’t able to produce a clear signature for the UNSUB.
As Avery opens the wall locker and pulls out the slab with the most recent victim, I reach down and rub the tender skin of my ankle, feeling the embedded rope marks left on my skin from Colton. My chest stirs with heat. Just the subtle reminder—the feel, the tenderness—is enough to make me crave him.
I drop my foot and right myself when Avery flips open her file to gather her notes.
“Someone was in his heyday,” Avery says, her gaze dropping to the covered victim as she peels back the white sheet. The body of the mutilated woman, now cleaned, is nearly more gruesome than when her wounds were hidden by blood. “I know you’re working quickly to catch this guy, so I’ll keep this short and direct. You can listen to the full examination if you want all the details.”
She runs through the most evident torture the victim suffered, which is an extreme reproduction of the first vic. Then concludes with, “Postmortem stab wounds cover her body. From chest to thighs.”
“That signifies sexual homicide,” Quinn prompts.
Avery nods. “She was raped. But this… Well, it’s extreme overkill.”
“I noticed that,” I say.
“Which is markedly different than the first victim,” Avery adds. “He tortured her. Pure and simple. Tortured her before he killed her, and he didn’t stop even after she was dead.”
The connection hits me hard and fast; the one thing I couldn’t nail down for the profile.
Whirling toward Quinn, I say, “Torture could be our UNSUB's signature. I mean, the methodology is usually unique. An offender whose preference is fire doesn’t typically use a knife, and vice versa.”
He huffs out a hard breath. “So we’re back to the prospect of more than one killer?”
“Not really….look.” I press my gum into my cheek, ready to dive into my explanation. “Usually torture falls into two categories: sadistic and functional. We can cross out functional, because we’re fairly certain our UNSUB isn’t trying to extract information. Though he could be punishing.” My chest tightens as the memory of a cane connecting to my back steals the air from my lungs.
“Bonds.” Quinn’s voice pulls me back. “You’re doing that thing you do again. Time. We don’t have a lot of it.”