I take a slow, steadying breath, forcing my focus onto the details, letting the clinical detachment I’ve honed over the years take over. I look down at the image of Mason, the grotesque candle wedged in his mouth, and the carvings on his chest, and begin to analyze everything. When I speak my voice is that of a professional.
Geneva, the ex-girlfriend, has been replaced by Dr. Andrews, the expert.
“The candle is symbolic. By forcing it into Mason’s mouth, they wanted to deny him a voice in his last moments. However, the candle is small enough to allow his muffled screams to be heard by the killer, for him or her to enjoy them. And lighting the candle…”
I pause, glancing briefly at Brooks. “Lighting it indicates a level of sadism. The killer wanted the wax to drip, to burn his mouth and throat slowly before he died.”
Brooks watches me, his expression unreadable, but I press on, needing to finish this exercise. “This wasn’t impulsive or sloppy. It was methodical, almost ritualistic. The phrase ‘Actions have consequences’ carved into his chest is a message.”
I nearly trip over my words, unable to ignore that the message wasn’t just for Mason. It was for me. This entire gruesome act was for me.
“The killer believes Mason wronged them,” I say. “The offense was severe, indicated by the depth of each letter into the skin.Whoever did this wanted to make sure that Mason understood his behavior wouldn’t go unpunished. That’s why Mason was still alive when the murderer cut into his skin.”
Brooks crosses his arms, his gaze unrelenting. “Go on, Doctor. You sound like you’ve thought about this a lot.”
I ignore his baiting me, keeping my focus on the psychological elements. “This kind of staging is designed to elicit terror and helplessness in the victim. The candle, the carving—all of it is deliberate. They didn’t just want him dead, although that was always the end goal. Whoever did this wanted Mason broken, humiliated, and silenced before death.”
I meet Brooks’s gaze head on, my voice resolute. “So, yes, Detective, this was deeply personal. But knowing how and why it happened doesn’t make me responsible.”
Brooks studies me, the corner of his mouth tightening. “Your insight might be useful, Doctor, but don’t think for a second it clears you. Maybe you’re just good at hiding your work.”
“I didn’t kill him.”
The detective’s lips curl into a bitter smile. “If you’re innocent, then give me a suspect.”
My mind races while I struggle to hold on to the control I’ve worked so hard to maintain throughout this brutal interrogation. “I don’t have a name. All I can give you is the address to the gym. It has cameras. Check them.”
Detective Brooks doesn’t take his eyes off me. The photos lie scattered between us like the broken pieces of a puzzle he’s determined to force down my throat. He taps his fingers against the table, his gaze sharp and calculating.
“You’re a smart woman, Dr. Andrews. You know exactly how to present yourself to avoid suspicion. Most people would crackunder this kind of pressure, but not you.” He tilts his head. “You’ve got the training, the experience. You know how to manipulate a situation, don’t you? How to use your responses and body language to appear a certain kind of way?”
His words cut through the air, but I don’t flinch. It’s my job to study people’s reactions and interpret their body language. But he’s right about me. This isn’t the first time I’ve used my education to my advantage.
The corners of his mouth twitch as if he’s holding back. He hates this. Hates that I haven’t broken. But there’s a flicker of respect behind the coldness in his gaze. He recognizes I’m not like other people he’s dealt with.
Like Ghost, this man is one of the few who haven’t underestimated me.
Brooks leans back in his chair, his shoulders slumping. “I’ve seen brilliant minds like yours before. People who think they’re untouchable. Who believe they can outsmart everyone around them because they’re too smart for their own good.”
He pauses, his eyes boring into mine. “But here’s the thing, Dr. Andrews. Brilliant minds? They make mistakes. Eventually, they all do. And when that happens, I’ll be right there.”
I raise my chin. “I know my rights. Either you arrest me and I demand legal representation, or I’m leaving.”
There’s a moment of silence, thick with unspoken accusations. Then Brooks smirks, a frustrated, tight-lipped expression as he slowly rises from his seat. “You’re free to go, but don’t make any travel plans.”
He steps aside, opening the door with a deliberate slowness to display power. “Don’t think for a second this is over. I’ll be watching you, Dr. Andrews. I always catch my killers.”
“Good luck with that.”Because he’s already in prison.
I gather my things, standing as calmly as I can, even though my heart is pounding in my chest and my legs are trembling. Without another word, I walk out of the room, leaving behind the cold interrogation room and the photos of Mason’s broken body.
CHAPTER 22
GHOST
“Ghost, you have a visitor.”
I turn my head to stare at the guard standing in front of my cell. “If it’s not Dr. Andrews, they can go fuck themselves.”
