Devour (Twisted Metamorphosis #1)

Chapter Four

“The blood trail led toward the alley and disappeared three feet beyond this dumpster here,” Jacobs explained. I was expecting Camden to question if there was any other blood spatter, but when my eyes found him, he was zoning out. His pen was pressed onto a page of his notebook, and his breathing was hot and heavy.

My interest officially piqued, and I watched his chest rise and fall more rapidly than normal, and I glanced at the clock on the wall above the screen. Once the second hand reached the twelve, I focused on the subtle sound of the clicks, counting his breaths for fifteen seconds.

He was breathing twenty eight breaths per minute, and I raised an eyebrow. Was he dissociating? This isn’t the best timing for an episode.

“Was there blood spatter anywhere else besides the exterior wall at the diner’s rear exit?” Camden asked, dropping his pen as if he was snapped back into reality and flipping his case file folder open to study the same photo.

“I can answer that question,” one of the lab technicians said, joining Jacobs at the front of the room. “Desiree Marx; nice to meet you, Agent Sullivan,” the lab technician said with a soft smile. I watched intently as Camden gave her a nod in reply.

“Once my partner, David Tran, and I arrived, we found a significant pool of blood inside the dumpster.” I saw the other tech give Camden a small wave at the mention of his name. “There was also the body of Connor Scott, Senator Thomas Scott’s son.”

Desiree changed slides, and the naked, dead body of the senator’s son appeared.

“Connor Scott minus a left leg,” I said flatly. “Interesting.”

“Interesting, indeed.” My darkness whispered in my mind.

“Safe to assume the blood was Connor’s, Des?” Anton Stevens asked.

“That’s where it gets a bit strange,” Desiree said, and the screen switched to the next slide, a DNA panel. “The blood belongs to the senator’s assistant, Grace Kim.”

“Was there any evidence of a body for Grace?” Camden asked, scribbling down her name.

“If Grace Kim is dead, her body wasn’t at this scene,” David Tran answered.

“That is very interesting,” I said, shifting in my seat, writing a few notes down. “We’ll have to find the senator’s assistant. That is a significant amount of blood; it is not likely she is alive if she has lost that much.”

“There’s something off about this crime scene,” Desiree said pensively. “I know we were suspecting the Norfolk Butcher, for whom, by the way, we need a better name,” Desiree scoffed. “I’m not convinced this is our killer. This work is sloppy, rushed, and angry. Our killer is calculated, precise, and patient.”

It was hard to suppress my grin, but I kept my face stoic and focused on Desiree.

It’s supposed to appear to be sloppy, I thought.

“It’s supposed to appear to be sloppy,” Camden said candidly, repeating my thoughts word for word. “Pardon my outburst, but it was intentionally done to have this sloppy, no, disrespectful treatment of the severed limb and the blood,” Camden said, my core welling with pride.

“Elaborate,” I commanded, clicking my pen twice, ready to dive into Camden’s empathic mind. I didn’t even care that we were in a room full of FBI agents.

“While the actual severing of the leg is surgical and precise, Connor’s body is handled with such disrespect by being tossed in a dumpster. Was the dumpster full? Did they move trash bags to give the body the spotlight?” Camden asked, flipping through the crime scene photos.

“No, the dumpster was nearly full. Connor’s body looked to be tossed in with the rest of the garbage. No evidence of staging,” Desiree replied with pinched brows; her wheels were turning, too.

“Yet the dumpster next to the one that Connor found in was completely empty, right?” Camden asked, flipping through more photos.

“Yes, it was empty.” Maria Santos answered. “Do we know if the leg was severed postmortem? That would definitely help point us in the right direction.”

Everyone around the table began discussing the missing leg, but my eyes were locked on Camden as he studied the crime scene photos. I watch his pupils dilate as he focuses intently.

“There is bruising around the wrists that looks to be what, two inches thick? He was bound or shackled, somehow.” Camden added.

“Do we have Connor’s body? I would be happy to perform an autopsy and write up a forensic report,” I said, flipping through the file, looking for a forensic report on Connor’s body.

“He was brought to the Portsmouth Medical Examiner at about six this morning. I know Doctor Arellano has already done a preliminary exam, but we asked him to hold off on the autopsy until you were able to attend, Doctor,” Jacobs said.

I couldn’t help but sneak a glance at Camden. He was engrossed in the image of Connor, and I watched him flip between multiple photos taken at various angles. I began to notice a little spark, a flicker in his eyes when he saw something interesting. The nervous bouncing of his leg stopped under the desk while he continued to study the site of the amputation, and I couldn’t help but wonder what was going through his mind.

“We are lucky to have Doctor Lawson here to aid in this investigation,” Jacobs had said, pulling me from my thoughts and redirecting my attention to him at the front of the room.

“I’m glad my education and residencies could be of use to your team, Marcus,” I said, almost sarcastically, but earning me a grateful smile from him, nonetheless.

“Sullivan, just to fill you in if you are unaware, Doctor Lawson here is a board certified forensic psychiatrist and forensic pathologist. Her expertise is unmatched in the country, and this case is taking priority over all others we have. I want you to accompany her to Connor’s autopsy and report to me first thing tomorrow morning.”

“Yes, sir,” Camden replied, his eyes shining with a new sense of purpose.

“Our team consists of the people in this room only, so our resources are limited. You will be responsible for reporting back all matters that Doctor Lawson assists us with, since her schedule is also very limited and some of her research will be done in her office.”

“Understood, sir,” Camden replied, his eyes finding mine.

I see you. I mouthed to him with a wink.

“Good. Garza, Richardson, I want you to head back to the scene with Marx and investigate with fresh eyes. Re-interview any possible witnesses, and follow up on any new leads with the Portsmouth Police Department.” The three of them nodded and closed their folders. “Santos and Steven—head back to the senator’s home and look for anything in his home office that could give us a clue what the fuck is going on. I have the search warrant on my desk.”

“You got it, boss,” Anton replied, leaning back casually in his chair with his ankle crossed over his knee.

“Nichols, please schedule and prepare a press conference. We need to get ahead of those vultures.”

“On it.” Erik clicked his pen closed and took another sip of his coffee.

“Tran, please get back to your analysis of the blood from the dumpster. I want to know everything you find,” Jacobs ordered, and everyone began to shuffle and stand to carry out their duties. “Doctor, Sullivan, my office please, before you go.”

“Of course, Marcus.”

Everyone began filing out of the conference room, and I stood, smoothing out my skirt. Taking my last sip of lukewarm coffee, I tossed the to-go cup in the trash can before returning to the table to close and gather my notebook.

“So, tell me, Agent. Where did you run off to during the briefing?” I asked, watching him tremble slightly.

“Nowhere,” he lied.

“I’d hardly call that ‘nowhere.’ How many pages did the ink of your pen bleed through?”

“That’s completely irrelevant to anything,” he said defensively.

“Alright. I’m not trying to press too hard.” I held my hands up in surrender. “Just an observation that I’m bringing up as a concerned partner. Nothing more,” I offered.

“No, you’re right. I’m sorry, Doctor,” Camden said, propping up his forehead with both hands and rubbing his eyes. “I already zoned out earlier outside of Carver’s office, and now here. I miss chunks of time like this, and it’s frustrating.”

Camden slid me a notebook across the table.

“Every one of my notes I’ve taken in lectures from the academy, notes from briefings, notes from my college courses. Every single one has chunks missing because I can’t fucking focus.” His sad eyes lowered to the desk, and I opened his notebook to the first page.

“My lecture from a year ago,” I smiled flipping through pages of notes he took on the steps of the FBI profiling process. It drifts off in the middle of step three. On the last few lines of notes, his handwriting got significantly more sloppy and trailed off. He even had the same ink pen dot from holding his pen to the page.

“Probably one of my most frustrating moments,” he chuckled.

“Well, maybe we need to finish these notes then? See how well that education is sticking?” I closed the notebook and slid it back to him. “Shall we, Sullivan? Jacobs is expecting us.” I asked with a grin, removing my glasses.

“Yes, I’m sorry for holding us up, Doctor.” Camden sat tall, taking a deep, grounding breath. “I’m actually confused about something,” Camden said, not taking his eyes off of the photo of the severed leg.

“Oh? Confused how?” I circled around to his side of the table and leaned over his shoulder to look at the photo with him. Seeing him visibly tense up and shiver sent a jolt of electricity down my spine again.

“This…um. This here is strange.” Camden pointed to a closeup view of Connor’s leg at the point of amputation. “There’s nothing.”

“Nothing?” I asked, trying to hide my excitement.

He sees it: the depths of my work.

“There’s no blood. This looks like a clean cut through the bone, expertly done. But why drain the blood first before amputating the leg?”

“Perhaps the blood will be used to stage another crime scene? Especially since the pool of blood the body was found resting in wasn’t from the same victim,” I offered, testing to see if he would take my bait.

“It makes some sense, I guess. But something seems off. The blood has to be significant—”

I interrupted him by closing the file on his hand.

“Come, Special Agent Sullivan.” Looking over his shoulder and directly at me, I watched as his pupils slightly dilated as his gaze locked with mine. I could feel the warmth from his sharp exhale through his nose on my skin, and the urge to pull his lips to mine was becoming overwhelming.

“We can discuss your ideas at my office over breakfast.” Breaking our exchange, I stood and returned to my side of the table to gather my things. I slowly made my way to the door, turning to look over my shoulder.

“Coming?” I raised an eyebrow at him, and he quickly gathered his things and joined me at the door like a sweet little obedient puppy.

Perfect.

We walked in a comfortable silence to Marcus’ office and I knocked softly before pushing the door open.

“Doctor, Sullivan—please come in. I won’t keep you long; we have a murderer to catch,” he chuckled, closing the file he had open in front of him on his desk. “Sullivan, it is standard here to have Doctor Lawson provide me with an assessment on your mental health to ensure you can stomach this work.”

“That won’t be a problem, sir,” Camden replied professionally.

“I respect you and your privacy. So, if Doctor Lawson has any concerns, she will just let me know it won't be a good fit. The last thing I want is for you to feel uncomfortable with this part of the process. Just please know, this step is necessary to upgrade your security clearances.”

“Yes, any and all sessions with me are strictly confidential, unless you tell me that you're really the Norfolk Butcher,” I said with a grin, earning a delicious chuckle from Camden, and a laugh from Marcus.

“Of course. I’m open to whatever is needed of me,” Camden said, trying to remain professional.

“Doctor Arellano at the Portsmouth Medical Examiner’s office is expecting you two at noon,” Jacobs said, leaning back in his chair. “Sullivan, please accompany Doctor Lawson to her office and begin your session until then.”

“Yes, sir. I’ll gather a few things from my desk and meet you at the elevator, Doctor?” Camden asked.

“Of course.”

Camden exited the office, and I turned my attention back to Jacobs, taking a seat across from him.

“How are you doing, Marcus? You missed your last session.”

“I’m sorry, Helena. It’s been difficult planning Emelia’s funeral. I’ve been so caught up in that, I didn’t mean to miss our appointment.”

“Parents shouldn’t have to bury their children. Your feelings are valid, Marcus, just don’t let the darkness win,” I said, giving him a sincere smile as he covered his face, rubbing his eyes.

My own darkness stood behind Marcus in the corner of his office, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed over her chest and rolling her eyes.

Emelia Jacobs was fifteen years old when she took her own life with Marcus’ gun. She was held captive and raped repeatedly before being left naked and blindfolded in an empty field. When she found out she was pregnant by her attacker, it was too much for her to bear. No parent deserves to walk in their teenage daughter’s room, and see what Marcus saw that night.

Oh, my dear friend, Marcus. I know what Senator Scott did to Emelia with his son, Connor. I promise you their deaths were slow, and they felt every ounce of pain, every cut of my scalpel… I promise you I got justice for Emelia.

“Please schedule with me next week. We need to take care of you, too,” I said, forcing myself out of my thoughts.

“I’ll call Elaine. Thank you, Doctor. Please let me know if Sullivan is cleared.”

I took his change of the subject as my cue to leave. Standing from his chair, I gave him a soft smile before gathering my bag and trench coat, walking out of his office.

Poor Marcus. He’s a good man. His family doesn’t deserve this pain. I hope that once the evidence shows that the senator and his son were the ones to assault Emelia, he can find some peace knowing they died brutal deaths, I thought as I slowly made my way toward the elevators.

“You’re letting it get too personal.” My darkness whispered in my mind.

“It’s fine.”

Camden was waiting at the elevator. He had one hand in his pocket and one hand holding up his cell phone, his thumb swiping up as if he was looking through photos.

“Are you ready, Agent?” I asked as I pressed the call button for the elevator.

“Oh, yes, sorry,” Camden said, fumbling with his phone and putting it back in his pocket. “I’m quite fixated on the severed leg.”

“Well, you know hyper fixation is common…”

“Yes, I know,” Camden said, irritated, cutting me off. I smirked, eyeing him up and down.

“Safe to assume you still have the address to my office?”

“Yes, Doctor,” Camden said as we stepped into the open elevator.

“Good. We’ll meet there in fifteen minutes? I need to stop by the restaurant across the street for a breakfast burrito. I was in quite the rush this morning and skipped breakfast. Would you like one?” I asked, while pressing the button for the garage level.

“I wouldn’t mind picking them up on my way to save you a trip. Breakfast burritos sound good,” Camden said shyly, while he fidgeted with his keys.

“Well, that’s kind of you, Agent. I’ll call in our order. Roberto’s is directly across the street from my office building. Can’t miss it.” The elevator doors opened, and I unlocked my car with its key fob. “See you soon, Camden.” He nodded and walked away toward a group of parked cars.

With a grin, I sat in my car and placed my bag on the passenger seat.

He’s finally mine…

“You’re pathetic, you know that? You’re pining over an FBI agent now? He’s FBI!” my darkness scolded as I turned the key in the ignition.

“I’m not worried. I ate any evidence of my work, and need I remind you, I. Won’t. Get. Caught.”

“This is a mistake. You cannot pursue anything with this man. He will ruin you, ruin us. All that we’ve built, all that we’ve worked so hard for. Are you prepared to lose your legacy? To rot in prison? To die?”

“Relax. The death penalty was abolished in Virginia in 2021. Plus, I have plans for Camden. He will not ruin us; he will help us. When the time is right, he will know everything I do, everything we do. He will see that we are doing this world a service,” I said, while pulling onto the main highway back toward my office. “We will use his empathy to help us.”

“You sound insane, you know that?” she scolded.

“Once the time is right, he will see that our work is necessary. He will see how broken our judicial system is and understand that we are here to give families closure, bring victims justice, and stock my kitchen.”

“So, tell me then. How do you plan on this playing out? How is that FBI agent going to find out everything we’ve built and not go running to his superiors? To the police?”

“He’s a killer, too; I can see it. I can feel it.” I smiled as we approached a red light. Ignoring my darkness for a minute, I called in my usual order to Roberto’s times two.

“So you’re putting our future on the line for a gut feeling? A fucking hunch?” My darkness crossed her arms again, her signature look, as I hung up the phone.

“I have this all planned out, don’t worry. Nothing will be revealed to Camden until he proves himself to me, to us.”

Pulling into my usual parking spot, I made my way to the elevators to my office’s floor, ignoring my darkness. My heels clicked and echoed as I walked down the wooden floors toward Elaine’s desk.

“Welcome back, Doctor,” Elaine greeted cheerfully.

“Thank you, Elaine. We will have a visitor shortly: Agent Camden Sullivan. Once he arrives, please send him to me in my office.”

“Of course, Doctor. I’ll prepare some water and more coffee for you.” Elaine stood from her desk, ready to start her duties.

“What would I do without you, Elaine? What would I do?”

“And how do you expect him to prove himself to us?” My darkness hissed, as I closed the door behind me.

“He’ll kill his father.”