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But he doesn’t respond to me. Glowering past me, he addresses Sadie. “If he’s going to remain here, he goes into a box. He’s not helping otherwise. And technically, he’s still a suspect.” Quinn crosses his arms, making his point.
“I’m not going back into interrogation,” I say, matching his stance.
“Christ,” Sadie says. She hands the phone to the main tech, then turns toward us. “He’s not responding anymore.” Placing her hands to her forehead, she pushes her hair back, her agitation apparent. To Quinn, she says, “You said we were partners on this. And as such, that requires trust.”
His features harden into an impenetrable expression as he holds Sadie’s stare. It’s as if something of a deeper mean
ing passes between them, and I try hard to keep my resentment in check.
“Do you trust me?”
Quinn releases his stubborn will with a long exhale. His shoulders deflate. “Yes. I trust you.”
“Then don’t question my leads. Please.” The pleading in her voice is enough to break any man. “We have to work together on this. It’s the only way. I’ll work the potential abduction sites, while you compare the members of the club that Colton flagged against—” she lowers her voice “—against the department. Use the profile as the control.”
Quinn’s eyes widen. “There’s no way to do that incognito. I need us all working as a team, and dissidence will put a halt to that real quick.” He stuffs his hands in his pockets. “No better way to throw a wrench in the system than to start pointing fingers.”
Sadie nods. “Let me handle that part. Just try to find a way to run searches without alerting Wexler or anyone else.”
Again, Quinn stares at Sadie for a long moment before he agrees. “All right.” Then he turns toward the room and takes in the anarchy that has descended over the task force. “Get in line, people! We have new information.”
I move to the back of the room and lean against the wall as the officers find seats. Every ear is piqued as Quinn prepares to address his task force.
“This case is no longer about catching a serial killer. It’s about bringing home one of our own.” He nods to a cop at the front of the room, and he proceeds to place three enlarged portraits of the bound and gagged woman from my phone on the giant whiteboard.
The air is alive with tension as the sudden, stark silence charges the room.
“Avery Johnson is a top medical examiner in her field. She’s worked with the ACPD for more than five years, and what’s more, she’s family.” A rumble of acknowledgement flows through the room. “We’re bringing her home.”
Quinn adjusts his stance, getting into his leader mode. I have to admit, he’s good at it. “Avery disappeared sometime between the night before last and early this morning. She’s presumed to have been missing for at least ten hours. We know the next twenty-four hours of this case is crucial. Therefore, we do not sleep, eat, drink, piss, or shit until we have a break in this case. And we’re going to follow Agent Bonds’ profile to the letter.” He glances over at her and nods.
My heart jumps into my throat as Sadie takes the floor. She’s tiny compared to Quinn, but every inch of her radiates authority. She’s wearing the dress she had on last night, with my leather jacket zipped up to conceal most of it.
“The UNSUB we’re hunting was once part of a partnership,” she begins. “A killing team. He built his original identity on the foundation of that bond, and therefore feels out of sorts working alone. It’s the reason he devolved so rapidly once he started the killing cycle again. He’s seeking a connection with another individual in which he can rebuild that team dynamic.”
Her gaze settles on me for a brief second, her eyes harboring the truth of her words. The UNSUB has already found someone to try to form that relationship with. Sadie. This has all been to gain her attention, and in a warped manner, her approval. In some morbid way, this guy looks at it like foreplay. My back teeth grind.
“He was dependent on his mentor, and the loss of that relationship caused an upset which manifested in identity confusion,” she continues. “His methodology evolved as he tried to discover his own style without a teacher. We see that result in his copycat approach to an ideal serial killer.”
A hand goes up, and Sadie nods to the officer. “Why did the UNSUB select the Blood Countess, Agent Bonds? There’re so many other serial killers to choose from. Do we have insight into a connection there?”
My discomfort reflects Quinn’s tense form.
Sadie lifts her head a notch higher. “That’s a question of the chicken and the egg.” At the confused grumble echoing around the room, she clarifies. “Did the UNSUB first select Bathory to emulate, then seek out a connection? Or did he search within our department first to establish a correlation?” She takes a breath. “Truthfully, I’m not sure. The only thing I know positively is that he is a narcissist who must control his environment. My knowledge and expertise on the Bathory murders gave him the foothold he needed to build upon. Once that connection within the department was made, he used it as his narcissistic supply. What better way to garner attention than to tap directly into the source?
“Pathological narcissists have a grandiose sense of self. Their need for admiration outweighs their every other need, and their lack of empathy means others will suffer because of it. Our UNSUB is a malignant narcissist who seeks omnipotence, and will attempt to achieve this by any means. He must be in control. Therefore, our authority is a direct threat to him.”
Notes are jotted down while this information resonates.
“The UNSUB is comfortable in victims’ homes, as well as outside in the open. He’s a psychopathic sexual sadist who uses a victim’s home—her place of shelter and safety—against her to dominate her in her own element and increase her fear.
“This particular deviant offender is organized and methodical, but because he needs to be seen in a god-like manner, he suffers to maintain his own delusion. He’s structured his world by a set of rituals that he must fulfill to keep his delusion sound. His fiction involving the Countess Bathory ties him to this department, and the abduction of Avery—an insider to us—stresses his desire to overthrow what he views as the ultimate authority and make it his own.”
Another hand goes up. “Where do we start looking?”
Sadie rolls her shoulders. “Offenders who suffer from this specific narcissism are prone to work in economics, politics, and even medicine. Pathological or malignant narcissists are also drawn to careers in law. Such as lawyers…or law enforcement itself.” Tension thrums heavily among the body of officers. “Because of his inside knowledge on the workings of this department, it’s not an assumption that he has direct access. Either to someone here, or as a member himself.”
Of all people, Detective Carson speaks up. “But couldn’t he be obtaining his information from the leak? I mean, just about the whole world has insider knowledge now thanks to that.”
