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By her tenth year, she requested a posting stateside. She had no personal life, but at least she could count on a hot shower and decent food if she remained in Virginia. She had lived with her parents for too long. Not that she spent much time with them. She was away more than she was home. Living at home was convenient, and she enjoyed her parents’ company, but she wanted to have her own space. Her own base. Her own slice of peace and sanity.
Because of her excellent record, she was promoted to a desk job. Most of her coworkers would have considered it a demotion, but they were also in their first couple of years of international hijinks. Give them a decade of doing this.
When her fifteenth anniversary was on the horizon, she knew she had to get out sooner rather than later and finally began to look into programs where she could get her master’s degree through her job. It occurred to her that thwarting disasters should begin at the beginning. In elementary school. Don’t wait until the person is an adult with all sorts of behavioral problems that were now ingrained. Catch them while they’re young. She had no interest in teaching, but guidance counseling would be a good place to start; a good place to start guiding little humans toward the right way to behave. Even if she could influence one person to become a better human being, it would all be worth it. The idealistic side of Melanie was coming out.
She made an appointment to speak to her current supervisor, Richard Patterson, and he agreed to sign off on her forms to take graduate classes in psychology.
“Only one request,” he said. “I want you to look into a case of five women who went missing. Their bodies were eventually discovered, and the murders have all the markings of a serial killer.”
“Is it a cold case?”
“Essentially, though the bodies have been recently discovered. They were all within a ten-mile radius of each other. According to forensics, the women were murdered two years apart, spanning the past ten years.”
“Where was this?” Melanie asked.
“Outside Quantico.”
Melanie’s blood turned cold. “Where, exactly?” She already knew the answer.
“Price William Forest Park.”
The color left her face. She thought she might faint.
“Are you alright?” he asked.
“I think I know who the killer is.”
“What?” he asked in disbelief.
“I know that sounds crazy, but I have a gut feeling about this.” She knew if she used the word gut instead of intuition, Rich would be more inclined to listen.
“Really?” He sounded unconvinced.
“Were the women in their early twenties?”
“Yes.”
“Were they sexually assaulted?”
“Yes.”
“Did they find any traces of drugs?”
“Yes.” Patterson was beginning to believe she might have a clue, even though those questions and answers were not unusual.
“Let me look at the file. Please, sir.” Melanie could not wait to review this case.
“How do you know about this?” he asked curiously.
“Let’s just say if I’m right, then you are looking at someone who could have been victim number six.”
“Wait! What?” Again he was baffled.
“When I was at Quantico, I went on a date with one of my coworkers. I know. I know.” She waved away the lecture.
“At some point during dinner, he slipped something into my drink. As we were leaving the restaurant, I felt a little dizzy, but I’d only had one glass of wine.” She closed her eyes for a moment as she remembered as much as she could. “I was nodding off in the car and realized we were not going in the direction of my apartment. We were on a dirt road in the dark.”
Patterson was leaning forward. His elbows were on his desk and his chin propped up by his fists. He was totally engrossed in her story.
