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“He’s sending him back to clean up a mess, is what it sounds like.”
“He’s awfully smug for someone trying to cover his ass,” I bite out.
“He’s not covering his ass. He’s covering the director’s. Director McEvoy has been on the verge of being replaced for six months now. I’ve already been approached several times about it by very high ranking officials. They want me in that chair and him gone.”
I drop back to my desk, leaning against it as he sits in one of the two chairs by the door.
“So what do we do?”
“You’re the profiler. Tell me what gets us out of this situation but offers the best possible resolution to a very dangerous serial killer.”
I think it over, weighing the facts and probably outcomes.
“Johnson will profile this guy as a sadist, regardless of all the new information we’ve discovered. He’ll change the game, rewrite the evidence to fit his profile. Then he’ll single out someone who doesn’t fit the true profile at all. Half of his cases were overturned because of that.”
“I’m well aware of his shortcomings,” Collins states dryly.
“If he falsified DNA evidence…” I let the words trail off.
“Then he’ll be locked away,” Collins promises.
I trust him. Always have. He’s not involved in the politics. He’s old school FBI—the kind who joined the Bureau in the quest for the truth and justice.
“So I work the case on the side, running it through my team. I’m still their boss. Any backlash will fall on me, understood? I don’t want their careers jeopardized over any of this.”
“While you’re doing that, I’ll assemble a committee meeting to see if I can overturn this ludicrous ruling. It might take me a week or more, but I’ll get him out of your hair if there’s any way possible,” he offers.
“Tell me it’s on me and not my team,” I repeat, staring him down.
“As you wish,” he says on a sigh. “Hopefully it’ll never come down to that.”
“He’s going to demand we go to Delaney Grove in the next day or so,” I go on. “He’ll want to get ahead of the endgame regardless of the fact the kills seem to be surrounding us right now instead of the town in question. It might work out in our favor though, because we might finally get some answers about what happened there.”
I look up, seeing through my window as Johnson walks toward the center of the room, touching my motherfucking board and erasing crucial profiling information.
“I hate that son of a bitch,” I say under my breath.
Collins turns, blowing out a frustrated breath. “Don’t we all.”
I walk out, listening to what Johnson is instructing half my team to do. Elise and Lisa aren’t here yet, but Donny’s eyes meet mine, as though he’s catching on to how fucked up this is.
“We’ll be going to Delaney Grove in two days. Pack a bag. I’ve called the sheriff, and he’s invited us in to help him with this,” Johnson says.
“Funny,” Craig drawls. “He wanted to act like nothing was going wrong when we spoke to him.”
Johnson eyes Craig. “You just worry about smiling for the cameras and leave the real work to us.”
Craig’s jaw tics, and he glares over at me. I smirk, letting him know I’m up to no good, and he restrains his own smirk in return.
“You have a sadist,” Johnson says predictably. “This sadist is targeting alpha males.”
Donny turns away, probably choking on how inaccurate that profile is. No one argues. Everyone has heard of Johnson’s reputation. He’s not a team player who listens or even adjusts. He’s a domineering prick who thinks his word is gospel.
A true narcissist.
“Kyle Davenport has been put into protective custody by the local PD,” he goes on, finally saying something that surprises me.
“Who is that?” Donny asks.
