Chapter 6
Parker
It was a surprisingly spacious room with one long table in the center where someone could set up their laptops and case files and work comfortably without being crowded by others working nearby.
The large white board, nailed to the wall at the far end of the room, caught my attention.
My feet started moving in that direction before my brain could process fast enough to send a signal to stop them.
I could feel eyes on me as I stopped in front of the board.
I had ignored the detectives when I’d entered the room, my mind immediately captured by the whiteboard, so I didn’t know if they were happy to have us or not.
At the moment, I couldn’t bring myself to care.
Names. Listed ages. Locations. Where they had been found.
I put my hands on my hips as I began to study the information.
The file I read through briefly at our headquarters and more thoroughly on the plane had much of the same details.
But seeing it displayed the way it was had a deeper impact.
Each of the victims had a headshot of how they appeared prior to being abducted.
They were likely provided by the families at the time of the victim’s disappearances.
Next to their smiling, almost carefree expressions were crime scene photos.
The photos showed how they were found and documented it.
Each was a horrific sight. Five beautiful women, all young from the ages of 20 to 26.
Different shades of brunette hair, some lighter, some darker.
Some had shoulder-length hair, while others had waist-length hair.
But each of them had lighter colored eyes.
Blue, hazel, and one with green that appeared to be almost the exact shade of the moss that you would find growing on trees in the forest, very similar to my one green eye.
Each of them was displayed in a way that both destroyed and protected their modesty. One of the women had an arm draped across her chest, covering her breasts, while her other was raised above her head. But her legs were spread in a lewd manner, revealing her bruised inner thighs.
Another victim had a hand placed on top of her groin as if to cover her mons from prying eyes, with the other arm spread wide at her side, allowing her breasts to be revealed to anyone who would look.
Each of them was different yet alike. The women were partially covered while partially exposed.
They were also all covered in deep purple bruising, indicating that they had been brutally beaten by a blunt object.
There were knife wounds, ones that sliced them open to the bone, and what appeared to be whip lashes sliced across most of the flesh of their bodies.
From head to toe, their flesh was disfigured.
A person could almost imagine they were looking at erotic art based on the poses, but the devastating torture and the damage that it had caused each woman took away any ounce of beauty from the display.
“He worships them,” I said softly to myself as I stared at the pictures of the bodies that had been scrubbed clean of any blood or grime that might have accumulated during their confinement.
I stared at the hair that had been washed and brushed to a high glossy sheen and carefully arranged in delicate waves over the victim’s shoulders and around their head.
“He both loves them and hates them.”
One of the detectives in charge of the case scoffed behind me. “He’s a sexual deviant that hates women.”
I shook my head and finally walked away from the board.
I grabbed the nearest chair and pulled it away from the table.
After sitting down, I took the copy of the file out of my satchel and opened it in front of me.
“Yes, he’s a sexual deviant. But,” I said and glanced at the two local detectives through my eyelashes, pausing briefly at the dark eyes staring at me intently before sliding my gaze over to the ones that showed more malice than I had expected.
“He doesn’t hate women. Not like this.” My hand gestured to the display on the wall.
I flipped through the pages, already knowing that the question I was about to ask was not in the folder.
“How does he pick his victims?” I wondered out loud.
“He just snatches them off the street,” the detective snapped.
I ignored him as I continued riffling through the pages, then glanced back at the board. “These women weren’t random. It’s obvious by how alike they look.”
“He has a type,” the guy insisted. “That doesn’t mean they aren’t random.”
“Oh, he absolutely has a type,” I agreed. “But these women were carefully hand-picked. The way he rapes and tortures them—it’s almost as if-”
“It’s a punishment,” SSA Walker finished for me. I glanced up and gave him a small grateful smile.
“Yes. The unsub is punishing his victims for rejecting him.”
“And you figured this out by looking at a couple of pictures?” The detective scoffed again. “You’ve been in this room for two seconds, and you’ve already cracked a case! Good job,” he mocked as he clapped his hands slowly.
I finally lifted my head and looked at him fully.
“No, Detective,” I said quietly. “The case is not cracked. We’re looking for a man who scouts his victims. He picks them specifically for their looks.
They remind him of somebody. Usually, it’s a family member from his past. A mother, a sister…
someone that he loved. Someone who treated him poorly or rejected him when his sexual desires for them were revealed.
He’s picking his victims because they remind him of somebody. ”
“And when they reject him,” SA Monique Hanson continued, and I nodded my head in encouragement. “He goes into a rage,” she finished.
SSA Walker turned and looked at the Police Chief. “Your unsub is going to be a male between the ages of mid-twenties to forties. His mother, sister, aunt, somebody from his past would have likely been his first victim.”
The detective grumbled and pulled out a chair, dropping into it as my team leader spoke. “Fucking believable.”
His partner gave him a sharp look, indicating that he should knock it off. He sealed his mouth shut but didn’t look happy about it as he glared directly at me.
“So I wonder,” Monique said as she sat down next to me and pulled out her own case file.
“What would our killer have done if one of these women hadn’t rejected him?
” Her question met with silence as we all pondered it.
I wouldn’t admit it out loud, but goosebumps dotted my skin as I considered the fate of a woman who not only didn’t reject a serial killer, but accepted them.
The chief broke the silence in the room.
“SSA Walker, Special Agents, I’d like to introduce to you my detectives who have been working this case since the beginning.
This is Detective Morris,” he indicated the angry man who had been glaring nonstop at me.
“And Detective Nakamura.” Instead of acting as belligerent as his partner, he had been trying to silently keep his partner under control.
I got the feeling it was a common occurrence between the two of them.
Detective Morris was obviously a hot head, somebody who didn’t like being challenged.
He didn’t like authority, and only kept his mouth shut at the reminder received by the silent Detective Nakamura.
The message had been clear—his attitude could cost him his job.
“I’ll let you all get to it.” Chief Hardgrove turned to his men, giving Morris a hard stare. “I expect full cooperation and daily progress reports on my desk.” Without another word, the handsome chief nodded at the room and left.
I eyed Detective Morris first, not wanting to judge the man based on my first impression of him.
Though he made it difficult, as he not only glared at me, but ran his gaze over me, as if sizing me up.
I wasn’t sure if it was lust I was seeing under the hate.
Regardless, warning bells were ringing in my head.
I shook it off. I was likely projecting my instant dislike on the man.
Tearing my eyes away from him, I looked over at Detective Nakamura to see that he was eyeing me as well.
Only from him, I felt a completely different type of emotion.
I couldn’t pinpoint exactly what he was thinking.
The detective had a good poker face, making it hard for me to read him easily. But what a beautiful face it was.
His Japanese heritage was very clear in his features.
He had sharp, high cheekbones and a square jaw.
His beautiful, full lips were what any girl could be envious of.
His thick, black hair was silky smooth, straight, and styled away from his face, though it seemed to fall over to cover one of his dark eyes quite often.
I’d noticed that he’d occasionally toss his head back and to the side to clear his vision.
The girly part inside of me, which rarely ever spoke, admired his fine features.
I thought of the way the owner of the inn had said that he was her great-nephew’s partner.
I let out a quiet sigh. It wasn’t as if I would ever act on any attraction, whether a man was available or not, but I couldn’t help a small pang of jealousy.
As I glanced at him through my lashes, I noticed his dark eyes seemed to be doing some assessing of his own.
I could almost imagine that what he was feeling was appreciation for me as a woman, which made no sense considering he was gay.
Though I suppose he could be bisexual or pansexual.
It didn’t matter regardless. The beautiful man was taken, and I simply wasn’t available, either emotionally or physically.
I could be reading him all wrong, and it could be nothing more than appreciation for my profiling abilities.