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They all had symmetrical, oval shaped faces, with gentle, near perfect facial features. And a deep sadness in their eyes, which is nearly identical in all of them.
That sadness grips me so hard I can’t look away, pulls me in to a point where I forget that these young people are dead. So the realization of it as it hits me again is that much more painful.
“All right, run with it,” Mark is saying to Sojer. “Get us more.”
He also suggests that Sojer move the entire set up to the task force office instead, but Sojer refuses, saying no one uses this room and that he has more resources here. He also adds that he’s sick of having to tread lightly just so the higher ups don’t get antsy.
The images of the victims’ faces are burned into my eyes and I still see them all clearly as Mark and I leave the building again.
I identify with the victims. That’s why I do what I do—out of empathy for those who lost their lives to fulfill a psychopath’s fantasy. And that is why I put myself in the killer’s path if I think it will get them caught. I don’t think twice about it. Because when I’m that deep in a case, I am the victim.
“I want to do some interviews, Mark,” I tell him. “And I know exactly what to say to draw him out.”
He grunts something but says nothing. Not that he has to. My mind is made up. We’re moving too slowly. It’s time to make this killer come to us.
