Meeting Lawson and Malone (Insight) ...
The Saturday Night Stalker case is taking up most of our resources but to little avail. There's just no catching this guy. I've swabbed, printed, PERKed, and autopsied every victim so far. Forensics are a bust. The incisions on the bodies are clean, straight, no hesitation, no pauses. It's almost like he's following a dotted line, the cuts are that neat. The women were all beautiful in life and that is the most savage part of this case. These women were extraordinary, dead too early from some psycho's self-proclaimed righteous hand.
This guy scares me. Not just as an M.E., though the fact that he can cover his tracks so well is bad enough. He scares me on a more basic level, makes my gut twist. He stalks women and violates them in their home. He cuts their hair and mutilates their beauty. He enters the places most sacred and secure to them-- their homes and their bodies-- and indelibly marks them, right down to the bone.
John, Nathan, and George don't say much-- how can they understand after all? They're male and thus marginally safer from the psychos of the world-- but they make an effort to let me know that they, too, are worried.
George walked me to my car last night, even though the garage is secure and guarded. He went so far as to check under it and in the back seat. "Never can be too careful," he said with that sardonic smile of his. I don't like to be coddled but for once I was glad he'd walked with me to check. Working with the dead doesn't shake me up but seeing weekly reminders of the stalker's work makes me uneasy enough that I don't mind an escort to the car.
***
Another SNS Victim. Again, no trace but evidence of a phenobarbital injection. The scalpel strokes were just as precise as last time. Neat, clean, almost artistic. He isn't in a hurry when he does this. He takes his time and efficiently cuts and pares away the parts he doesn't like. He isn't a butcher-- he makes cuts like a surgeon. It's chilling.
There was a man looking over the crime scene photos in the conference room. John introduced him as Bailey Malone, the FBI profiler. I've heard of him, of course, -- who hasn't?-- but to see him sitting in the conference room was a real shocker. Malone is one of the big guns-- to bring him in is practically to admit defeat on our part. Our resources aren't enough. Time for the FBI.
He's older than I thought he would be. Handsome, in a quiet way, though scarred from a lifetime of hell. He's the only person I've ever seen John defer to, someone worthy of respect if he's able to make John Grant toe the line. Bailey Malone warrants a closer look, especially if he's going to work the duration of this case.
***
Malone brought in another profiler, a woman named Sam Lawson. I met her during the briefing and it's obvious that she's gifted in ways I can't even fathom. She has a mind that's been honed to a keen sharpness, an intellect so powerful I wouldn't want to go up against it. She's a force to be reckoned with and she obviously makes John very nervous.
She asked me about it when she walked down to the morgue with me.
"Is there something I should know about Detective Grant? He seems a little ... hostile."
"John's a good cop," I told her. "One of the best I've ever worked with. But he doesn't like what he doesn't understand and he doesn't understand how you do it."
From her response, I don't think Lawson understands how she does it, either. Then again, if I had to explain to someone what compels me to immerse myself wrist deep in blood every day, I wouldn't be able to either.
***
Break in the case, thanks to Lawson. Catherine Windsor, the fifth victim, was a copycat. I've determined that all of the victims had plastic surgery, mostly breast augmentations. I didn't see it earlier because the killer cut through the old incisions, following the same path the surgeon used. There are no surgical scars on Catherine Windosr's body. She's not a Stalker victim.
The real fifth victim, Stacey Driscoll, was brought in nearly an hour ago. Same M.O.
We never would have known about her if it weren't for Sam determining that Windsor was a copy-cat. We've got a day left to find the man who butchered her ... it's already Friday night.
***
Sam put the Stalker behind bars. Thank God Atlanta can finally breathe easier. Surprise of all surprises, it was a woman behind the killings-- Frances Barry, a psychologist. What a world of irony, huh?
John, Nathan, and George came in while I was wrapping up my autopsy findings on Stacy Driscoll. Apparently Malone and Lawson have proposed that we all form a task force, an elite unit based out of the FBI to solve violent crimes, cases decided by Lawson and investigated by all of us.
I've never had a desire to get involved with the Feds, but I'd regret it forver if I passed up an opportunity to work with Malone and Lawson. And to have all of us-- Nathan, John, George, and I-- pooling our talents with an infinite amount of resources and information, well, it's too great a chance to ignore. As a task force we would be incredibly formidable. As a task force, we could finally make a dent, not just in Atlanta but on a national level, too. There's part of me that doesn't want to get entangled-- after all, it would be more hours, more psychos and less time with Morgan and the dogs. But it's also more resources, a bigger and better office, a substantial pay raise, and a chance to work with Lawson and Malone.
I'm going to do it.
Something tells me I'm going to want to be along for this ride.
This guy scares me. Not just as an M.E., though the fact that he can cover his tracks so well is bad enough. He scares me on a more basic level, makes my gut twist. He stalks women and violates them in their home. He cuts their hair and mutilates their beauty. He enters the places most sacred and secure to them-- their homes and their bodies-- and indelibly marks them, right down to the bone.
John, Nathan, and George don't say much-- how can they understand after all? They're male and thus marginally safer from the psychos of the world-- but they make an effort to let me know that they, too, are worried.
George walked me to my car last night, even though the garage is secure and guarded. He went so far as to check under it and in the back seat. "Never can be too careful," he said with that sardonic smile of his. I don't like to be coddled but for once I was glad he'd walked with me to check. Working with the dead doesn't shake me up but seeing weekly reminders of the stalker's work makes me uneasy enough that I don't mind an escort to the car.
***
Another SNS Victim. Again, no trace but evidence of a phenobarbital injection. The scalpel strokes were just as precise as last time. Neat, clean, almost artistic. He isn't in a hurry when he does this. He takes his time and efficiently cuts and pares away the parts he doesn't like. He isn't a butcher-- he makes cuts like a surgeon. It's chilling.
There was a man looking over the crime scene photos in the conference room. John introduced him as Bailey Malone, the FBI profiler. I've heard of him, of course, -- who hasn't?-- but to see him sitting in the conference room was a real shocker. Malone is one of the big guns-- to bring him in is practically to admit defeat on our part. Our resources aren't enough. Time for the FBI.
He's older than I thought he would be. Handsome, in a quiet way, though scarred from a lifetime of hell. He's the only person I've ever seen John defer to, someone worthy of respect if he's able to make John Grant toe the line. Bailey Malone warrants a closer look, especially if he's going to work the duration of this case.
***
Malone brought in another profiler, a woman named Sam Lawson. I met her during the briefing and it's obvious that she's gifted in ways I can't even fathom. She has a mind that's been honed to a keen sharpness, an intellect so powerful I wouldn't want to go up against it. She's a force to be reckoned with and she obviously makes John very nervous.
She asked me about it when she walked down to the morgue with me.
"Is there something I should know about Detective Grant? He seems a little ... hostile."
"John's a good cop," I told her. "One of the best I've ever worked with. But he doesn't like what he doesn't understand and he doesn't understand how you do it."
From her response, I don't think Lawson understands how she does it, either. Then again, if I had to explain to someone what compels me to immerse myself wrist deep in blood every day, I wouldn't be able to either.
***
Break in the case, thanks to Lawson. Catherine Windsor, the fifth victim, was a copycat. I've determined that all of the victims had plastic surgery, mostly breast augmentations. I didn't see it earlier because the killer cut through the old incisions, following the same path the surgeon used. There are no surgical scars on Catherine Windosr's body. She's not a Stalker victim.
The real fifth victim, Stacey Driscoll, was brought in nearly an hour ago. Same M.O.
We never would have known about her if it weren't for Sam determining that Windsor was a copy-cat. We've got a day left to find the man who butchered her ... it's already Friday night.
***
Sam put the Stalker behind bars. Thank God Atlanta can finally breathe easier. Surprise of all surprises, it was a woman behind the killings-- Frances Barry, a psychologist. What a world of irony, huh?
John, Nathan, and George came in while I was wrapping up my autopsy findings on Stacy Driscoll. Apparently Malone and Lawson have proposed that we all form a task force, an elite unit based out of the FBI to solve violent crimes, cases decided by Lawson and investigated by all of us.
I've never had a desire to get involved with the Feds, but I'd regret it forver if I passed up an opportunity to work with Malone and Lawson. And to have all of us-- Nathan, John, George, and I-- pooling our talents with an infinite amount of resources and information, well, it's too great a chance to ignore. As a task force we would be incredibly formidable. As a task force, we could finally make a dent, not just in Atlanta but on a national level, too. There's part of me that doesn't want to get entangled-- after all, it would be more hours, more psychos and less time with Morgan and the dogs. But it's also more resources, a bigger and better office, a substantial pay raise, and a chance to work with Lawson and Malone.
I'm going to do it.
Something tells me I'm going to want to be along for this ride.