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She hesitates, but then she sounds amused. “If you’re asking if I’m single, the answer is yes. Have been for a while. I wouldn’t have called you and flirted if I was with someone else.”
“Well, it sucks that I can’t take you out tonight before you get tired of waiting on me to have a free second. I’ll be working overtime in search of new leads. But if you’re up for coffee, I can meet you in the same place we met on my way back into the office in a few hours. Say five or so?”
“I prefer coffee in the mornings, but you can buy me a muffin. They have excellent muffins.”
“Coffee in the mornings,” I echo, my grin growing. “Duly noted.”
“Are you flirting with me, Agent Bennett?”
“Maybe a little. Are you ever going to tell me your name?”
“Oh, that’s right. You don’t know my name. It’s dangerous to talk to strangers, you know.”
“I’m aware. I profile serials for a living.”
She’s a somewhat tiny thing with haunted eyes, yet joking I should be wary of her. I’m sure the fact she knows I have a badge puts her at ease; she assumes all law officials are good souls with clean intentions. That tells me she’s never been in trouble with the law or had any issues with them at all.
“Serials?” she asks, her voice hitching a little, reminding me what I’ve said.
“Serial offenders. I graduated from serial panty robbers to serial killers. Hope that’s not an issue. I’ve had problems in the past keeping a relationship because of that.”
She clears her throat. “Um, no problem. But shouldn’t you keep things like that quiet from strangers?”
“It’s not classified. I’ve been on the news a time or two speaking. And besides, I’d rather we weren’t strangers. So what’s your name?”
She pauses for longer than I’d like. I’ve gotten her wrong and right, but I’m not sure to what degrees on either front. So I don’t even bother guessing why she’s quiet.
“It’s Lana. Lana Myers. Feel free to investigate me, Mr. Profiler.”
The light tone is back, and I cut down the final road to lead me home.
“I’d rather you surprise me, Lana Myers. I only run a non-invasive background check to make sure you’re not a felon or fugitive. That could be an issue, given my job,” I say, laughing lightly.
She laughs as well, then sighs. “Coffee later?” I ask her.
“Muffin, remember?”
“Right. Sorry. Sleep deprived.”
“I’ll see you later, Agent Bennett.”
“Definitely,” I tell her around a yawn as I pull into my house.
She hangs up, and I immediately type in her name in a text to Hadley.
HADLEY: What am I looking for?
ME: A criminal record only.
HADLEY: Done and done. She’s clean.
ME: That was fast.
HADLEY: That’s what she said.
Chuckling, I put my phone away, and I walk inside. My mind is tired, but I’m still running facts of the case over in my head, thinking of anything we might be missing.
The unsub tortures his victims for days, but not for the same amount of days. Three days this last time. Two days apiece on the first two victims. Four days on the third and fourth victims. The lack of consistency doesn’t make sense, neither does the targeted skin that is removed. It’s always different, except for the damn dick removal. Sometimes all the fingers are cut off. Sometimes they’re not.
