Me:Sure. Let me see what my day looks like and I’ll get back to you.
Quinn:Sounds good. Thanks, Gage.
Me:Talk to you later.
At the station, things are at a standstill. The team consists of me, the captain, Finch, and surprisingly, Dan Trumbull, who decided to make an appearance today. We brought in a veteran officer, Jane Bradshaw, as well. She specializes in the behavioral science or psychology part of this kind of crime. Trust me, she’s good.
“So, typically what we call a crime of passion, I’d prefer to call an impulse murder because it’s a sudden, strong impulse such as sudden rage rather than a premeditatedcrime.”
That part of Jane’s statement isn’t a surprise. We’re all familiar with that part of the definition. But what she said next piqued my interest. “We’re all biologically predisposed to violence in certain situations.”
I’m not sure I agree with that, necessarily, but she’s the one with the psych degree.
“Our brains are wired for danger,” she continues. “And when we sense danger, we use our defense mechanisms, which are often violent, for our own survival.”
Okay, I can see that. But how does that relate to this murder? “So, our perpetrator felt as though they were in danger?” I hedge.
“Perhaps not physical or bodily danger. They may have felt something much more abstract. Our victim could have been threatening something else. Their livelihood, for example. Or threatening another person who they feel the need to protect.”
“You’re really broadening our pool of suspects,” Dan grouses.
“Well, let me try to narrow this down for you.” She leans forward in her seat in our conference room. “Statistically speaking, our perp is most likely male but we can’t rule out a female. They’re right-handed based on the blood splatter, though the height of the suspect is unclear, because it appears they swung the club more than once and from two different angles: one as the victim stood and the other as she was going down.”
Finch makes a grunting noise.
“Yes, Finch?” Jane asks with a smirk.
“So, it could have been a man or a woman?”
She smirks. “Yep. Due to the choice of weapon, it could have been either.” She narrows her eyes like she’s angry. “A woman can be just as strong as a man, Finch.”
“I know,” he responds defensively. “I know.”
“So, we know nothing.” Finch says like it’s nothing. “It could be a guy or a girl. They could be tall or short. Fat or thin?”
“Body weight…” Jane starts to respond but I hold up my hand.
“We don’t know, right?” I look at Jane. “We’re back to square one.”
With a little sigh, Jane nods.
* * *
After the meeting,it’s Dan’s turn to tell us what he’s learned from Kara Becker’s social media. Leaning back in my chair, I wait for his report.
“She was a little bitch.”
Wow, that’s one way to open the conversation.
Dan hands us a packet—pages from her journal have been copied and stapled together. A second stack of papers lands on the table in front of me. “Those are screenshots of her Snappy-whatever account, but she mostly used Twipper.”
Twipper?Apparently Dan’s not up on the latest apps the kids are using.
“I’ve made notations and numbered some of the journal entries because they coincide with shit she posted.” He sighs. “She was mean as a pit bull.”
“Hey, man,” Finch interjects. “Pit bulls are sweet.”
With an eye roll, Dan changes his phrasing. “Okay. She was as mean as a snake with a toothache.” He glares at Finch. “Better?”
