Chapter 11
The profilers argued over the case. Officers Lee and Jenkins sat at their desks pretending not to hear the debate in the office. The detective was getting snarky and neither profiler appreciated it. Dr. Phelps and FBI Agent Wales only agreed that the crimes were committed by the same person and that the serial killer was still developing an M.O.
“Look if you two can’t tell me who I’m looking for, I’ve got no leads left.” The detective said. “Forensics only said this person knows just enough to cover their tracks but doesn’t have access to better materials to do so. And our reports on the crime scenes and from witnesses have yielded zilch.”
“It’s not that simple, Detective Glass.” Agent Wales replied. “From what we’ve seen, this person hasn’t developed a particular ritual for their kills. The crime scenes are each different and the victims don’t appear to form any kind of pattern.”
“So, you’re saying we called the both of you in on this case for shits and giggles?” Glass snipped.
“No, we are saying that the victimology and analysis of the crime scenes has given us very little to work with. As best as we can narrow it, either there is a mistake in the forensics, or our suspect is an amateur serial killer.” Dr. Phelps answered. “This person would most likely be male—but could be female. They feel unappreciated in their career and prefer to use a knife for their attacks. The last attack shows that the killer is evolving.”
“How do you see that?” The detective asked.
Agent Wales pulled out photos of the bodies as she answered the detective.
“Because this time the murderer took the time to scout and prep a location to drag the victim to. They didn’t go for a quick execution; they wanted to savor the victim’s struggle. Our suspect is upping the stakes with each kill. Their timeframe is shortening as their taste for the kill increases.
The first one was a fast stab into the lung of a girl who was so frail she couldn’t have put up any resistance. The second was a stealthy jab to the back of the skull on a strong, young male in a public place. They feel almost like assassinations for how detached they are. The third is where it all changes.”
Dr. Phelps pointed to the image of the prostitute’s corpse lying in a pool of bleach and blood. He continued where his colleague left off.
“This woman was snatched off the street, restrained, gagged with tape, and drained of her blood gradually using multiple incisions. The third murder is where our suspect found their voice; that’s how we will cultivate our profile.”
The detective crinkled his nose and examined the images. He tossed them back on the table.
“So all I have to go on is that the killer is new to slaying people, likes to kill with a knife—the same one each time—feels unvalued at work, and is most likely a guy. You two experts can’t narrow it down any better?”
“Not until we find some more evidence or another victim to give us a pattern. We’re sorry, Detective Glass, but that’s all we have to work with.” Dr. Phelps said and returned to scouring the files for a clue to the killer’s identity.
Five miles away, the murderer was planning her next attack.