AllFreeNovel
Share Us
MITCH
“Tell me about your work. You’ve told me you’re a psychologist, but you haven’t said a lot more than that,” he said.
“I wanted to be a psychologist for as long as I could remember. The human mind fascinates me. And, obviously, my father—whom I adored—was a big influence. But I like to know how people think, what makes their minds tick, why they do certain things. I had a practice in St. Louis,” she said with a sad smile. “I closed it down after my husband died. I had no will to do it anymore. I couldn’t sort out my own emotions, let alone deal with other people’s.”
He nodded understandingly. “Did you enjoy the profiling work?” he asked.
“I loved it,” she said. “I would consider doing it now, but I would have to be more available to visit crime scenes, et cetera. I’m just trying to piece together my life right now, but maybe in a few years it could work.”
Mitch nodded thoughtfully. He’d had no idea he had a criminal profiler in Redwater. The problem was, of course, that her sister was one of the victims, so he’d have to tread very carefully. Mitch was a rule follower, not a rule breaker, and he wouldn’t jeopardize his case and all the work the officers were doing only to have it thrown out in court due to bias concerns. His men and women put their lives on the line to do their jobs, and he needed to make their sacrifices worthwhile by following protocols.
But still, there had to be a way he could use her skills to his advantage—to Redwater’s advantage—because while the killer remained at large, he could strike again.
The doorbell rang and Zoe smiled. “That should be the pizzas.”
Mitch’s stomach rumbled on cue and they laughed. He went to the door, looked through the peephole to make sure it was the delivery guy, and opened the door, taking the pizza boxes.
As the greasy aroma of pepperoni pizza filled his nostrils, he realized he’d barely eaten all day and was starving.
Zoe carried their wine glasses to the table and they sat down to eat. Neither said much while eating, but it wasn’t uncomfortable.
“I have to say, Jackie’s might just be the local treasure,” she said with a grin.
Mitch chuckled. “I doubt there are many who would dispute that statement.” After a pause, he asked, “Going back to the profiling work, what do you think is the biggest misconception about serial killers?”
She rested her face in her hand, looking at the ceiling for a moment. “Well, I don’t know if it’s the biggest misconception, but one assumption has definitely changed over the years. We always thought serial killers had no empathy. We looked at them as inhuman, or monsters. But they do have empathy—albeitselectiveempathy. The people they have empathy for never become their victims. What we don’t know yet is why their empathy is selective... what they see in some people that stops them from killing them. Most are also addicts—alcohol, drugs, killing—and show signs of animal abuse as young children. But honestly, probably the scariest trait of all is that many serial killers look like the average Joe.”
Mitch thought that through. When his phone rang, he startled. He looked at the number and immediately stood.
“I have to take this,” he said, and Zoe nodded. He felt her eyes on him as he walked down the hallway, away from the dining room.
“Hello,” Mitch said.
“Mitch, it’s Maria. I have another confirmed match, but you’re not going to believe it. It’s Graham Laube’s wife—Ellen Laube.”
CHAPTER20
MITCH
Mitch stopped breathing. “What?” he asked, his mind reeling. How was that possible?
“I know, but it’s her. Dental records confirm it. And the other interesting thing is: based on the decomposition of the unidentified bodies, I would say they were killed at a similar time to Ellen. But then there’s a gap of... hard to say at this stage... maybe twelve months to two years. There are two more victims in that timeframe and about another year before Lana and Olivia. Something happened in those windows that stopped our killer from killing. I don’t know if that’s helpful, but it might be.”
Mitch’s jaw was still hanging open. “Thanks, Maria. I need to make a few calls, but I’ll check in with you tomorrow.”
“See you then,” she said before hanging up.
Mitch dialed Jackson. “Hey, are you at the station?” Mitch asked, knowing he was on duty tonight and should be there.
“Sure am,” Jackson confirmed. “What’s going on?”
“Will you please run some reports for Ellen Laube? Did anyone report her missing? We need access to her bank accounts and phone logs from the time she ran off with her lover,” Mitch said, making a concerted effort to slow down so Jackson could actually understand what Mitch was saying, but his mind was on overdrive.
“You mean Graham’s wife, right?” he asked. “Why are we looking for her?”
Mitch filled him in, and a long pause followed.
“Um, okay. I can’t even begin to explain that. Do you want me to speak to Graham?” he asked.
