Chapter 4 Geneva
GENEVA
It’s Friday, but when you’re married to your work, every day is the same. I guess my life is a compilation of Mondays then.
I sit at my desk, the hum of the activity outside my office completely muted by my noise-canceling headphones. With my back facing the wall, I’ll be sure to notice if anyone opens my door. Although, everyone knows better than to interrupt me when I have my headphones on, unless it’s urgent.
My notes from this morning are displayed on my computer screen, along with the stark images of the victim and the crime scene. Just like every other time, the details etch themselves on my memory. They’ll stay there until the case is solved.
If the case is solved.
“Case #1025-0731, Crime Scene Analysis. Location: 1207 Maple Street. Victim: Julia Mills, mid-thirties, found deceased in her residence. Time of death is estimated between 11:00 p.m. and 1:00 a.m.”
I type steadily, describing the scene thoroughly, noting the position of the body, the state of the room, and the lack of forced entry. The blood spatter is only in the living room, while the rest of the house remains untouched by the violent struggle.
“You put up a fight, Julia,” I whisper to the victim. I stop to briefly run my fingertips over her gruesome image. “We’ll catch this son of a bitch.”
I move onto the profile development. The methodical arrangement of the scene suggests an organized offender, someone who plans and executes with precision. There’s a ritualistic element to the positioning of the body, indicating a possible psychological compulsion.
“The suspect has a meticulous nature and possibly a background in forensic knowledge,” I mutter to myself. “The lack of forced entry suggests the victim may have known the perp or was deceived into allowing them in.”
I lose track of time as I continue adding to the report until I save the file and send it to the lead detective. A knock sounds the moment I remove my headphones.
“Come in,” I call out, looking up from my desk.
The door swings open and Detective Allen Harris steps inside. His graying hair is cropped short, and a perpetual five o’clock shadow frames his square jaw. He smiles at me, then pauses, glancing around my office with a raised brow.
“You know, Gen, your office always feels like a morgue. There’s no color in this room.”
The walls are pristine white and every piece of furniture, down to the wall clock, is black.
The starkness of the decor is only softened by the natural light coming in through the windows.
The flooring is a polished concrete, the gray surface adding to the minimalist aesthetic.
To me, my office is a haven of efficiency.
Inwardly, I sigh. “I find it easier to focus without distractions.”
“Fair enough. But a plant wouldn’t hurt.”
I smile at him and gesture to the empty chair in front of my desk. “What can I do for you, Detective?”
He takes the proffered seat, his expression turning serious. “I saw your report hit my inbox. I’m sure it’ll be just as good as the others.”
“Thank you.” I scan his face, noting the way he’s clenching his jaw and the tension lining his mouth. How tightly he’s clutching a folder in his right hand. “Is there something else you wanted to discuss with me, Allen?”
My use of his first name is a subtle tactic to put him at ease. It’s a reminder that we’re more than co-workers. We’re colleagues, fighting on the side of justice.
Allen scrubs the back of his neck before his posture loses some of its stress. But only infinitesimally. Damn. I brace myself when he opens his mouth.
“Ghost refuses to speak to any of the professionals. We’re talking about days of silence. For fuck’s sake, we don’t even have a psych profile on him yet.”
“Where is he locked up?”
“Blackwater Correctional Facility,” he says. “Usually that place knows how to handle people like him.”
“Except he’s not like anyone else.”
My pulse kicks up a notch, just like every other time I’ve thought about Ghost. I assumed I’d get over my curiosity concerning him by burying myself in work and focusing on other criminals, but that’s not been the case.
Like a ghost, he haunts me.
Allen sighs. “Before he stopped speaking, Ghost said he has information on the Riverton case.”
My mouth drops open. I quickly snap my jaw closed with a succinct click. “Anna Lee, the eight-year-old who disappeared two days ago? But how would Ghost know anything about her? He was in prison before she was reported missing.”
“I don’t know. It could be a sick joke to mess with us, or…”
I thrum my fingers on my desktop. “Or he could have pertinent information.”
“You know the first forty-eight hours are crucial. The chances of finding her alive decrease the longer she remains missing. We’re past that.”
“Damn it.” I halt my fingers and tilt my head. “Why are you telling me this? Is it because I dabbled with the idea of writing an article about Ghost for peer review? If so, I’m not doing that anymore. After I saw him murder that man in court, I won’t have anything to do with him.”
“That’s too bad because Ghost wants something from you. He’s asked for you… by name.”
“What?!”
My raised voice has Allen blinking at my uncharacteristic reaction. I clear my throat to regain my stoic composure, the one that keeps my emotions locked away where they’re safe and can’t hurt me. Or anyone else.
“I’m sorry,” I say, gentling my voice. “You surprised me.”
“Right back at you. Anyway, like I just said, Ghost refuses to speak to anyone but you.”
Why me?
Dread coats my insides like molasses. Yet there’s an unwanted spark lit inside me as well, one that I can’t ignore. Despite witnessing Ghost kill someone, I remain captivated by him. His sense of twisted humor pairs with his devious actions to create a macabre allure that’s hard for me to shake.
“How does he even know who I am?”
“I honestly have no idea, Gen. What I do know is you’re the best in your field.”
I wave a hand in dismissal. “It’s easy to be successful when you don’t have a life. But I can’t do it.” I shake my head for emphasis.
“You’re our only in, and we’re out of options.”
“After the case involving Sarah, I don’t want to work directly with criminals again. Especially someone as unhinged as Ghost. I can help catch the bad guys from behind the scenes.”
If I’m around Ghost, then my fascination will only deepen. Which means he could do more than haunt me. He could possess me.
Allen nods in understanding. “Sometimes the only way to catch a criminal is to find them in the shadows where they dwell. If Ghost can lead us to her kidnapper, we might have a chance to find Anna Lee alive.”
The truth of his words hits me like a fist to the chest. I suck in a breath, my nostrils flaring. I can still see Ghost’s white hair hanging over his brow along with his cruel smile. However, I also recall Anna Lee’s missing poster, her eyes full of innocence and joy.
Fisting my hands, I meet Allen’s gaze. “When do I visit him?”
“Tomorrow.”
Shit.
“Why?” I mutter to myself.
It’s the question that I’ve asked myself for years.
Sometimes I find answers, but mostly I’m left with more questions and less clarity than before.
Does that stop me from continuing to seek answers, to find closure buried deep in the minds of deviant criminals?
No, I’ll never stop trying to understand them.
My sanity depends on it.
The cab driver grabs my attention by clearing his throat. “Because you hailed me down, miss.”
“I’m sorry. I’m talking to myself. Just ignore me.”
“Whatever you say, miss.”
The middle-aged man shifts his gaze from me to the road and turns up the radio a notch. I look down at the open folder resting on my lap before flipping through the scant information we have on Ghost.
Behavior
Name Preference: Only exhibits a response to being called “Ghost.” Identifies strongly with the alias given by federal authorities, possibly as a form of psychological defense.
Physical Movements: Tests the restraints frequently, indicating discomfort with confinement but also possibly assessing escape potential or demonstrating his apathy.
Reading Dr. Richards’s report is interesting, considering he’s had the longest interaction with Ghost so far. However, I disagree with his conclusion that Ghost is assessing potential escape. He turned himself in.
So the real question is: What does Ghost stand to gain from it?
Psychological Indicators
Control and Power: Derives satisfaction from the fear and control he exerts over others.
This is a recurring theme in his speech, indicating a potential for antisocial personality disorder with traits associated with psychopathy.
Further evaluation to confirm conduct disorder as a juvenile is required for a diagnosis of ASPD, and further tests such as the PCL-R may confirm psychopathic tendencies.
“Ah, fuck me.”
I let my head fall back against the headrest and close my eyes, ignoring the driver’s curious glance. Psychopaths are the hardest to deal with. The lack of human emotion is something I can intellectually comprehend, but even my reserved and strict nature isn’t completely void of feelings.
No matter how much I try to ignore them.
The cab pulls to a stop, jolting me from my work.
“We’re here,” the driver says. “Have a good night, miss.”
“You too.”
I hurriedly shove the folder in my bag and exit the cab. In front of me is a modern high-rise design with a sleek glass facade and metallic accents. It stands prominently against the Manhattan skyline, with balconies for some apartments. Mine is one of them.
Lucky for me, a couple of years ago, my living room was a crime scene I was called in to analyze.
I offered the landlord a reduced rate, explaining it’d be hard for him to find a tenant who’d be willing to overlook the homicide that took place there.
Since then, I’ve lived in an apartment that I otherwise couldn’t afford without resigning myself to processed noodles for the rest of my life.
As I enter the grand foyer of the building, the familiar luxury envelops me. The floor is a glossy expanse of marble, reflecting the soft glow of the pendant lights above. Art deco pieces line the walls—curated spots of color against the neutral tones of the interior.
The concierge nods at me with a practiced smile, his presence a steady constant. He flicks his gaze and jerks his chin to my left.
I follow the gesture to find the last person I want to see.