“Why does everyone hate me and want me dead?” Tony asked, and was promptly ignored by Elizabeth.
Rightfully so.
“I won’t, baby.”
Then, she hung up.
When Mac opened his mouth, she stopped him.
“It’s a long story. He works for me. He’s more on an internship on how to be a Fed in my division. Trust me, I wouldn’t bring a kid to work unless I’m held at gunpoint. I certainly wouldn’t bring my kids to work to give them ideas of the perfect crime. I know my genetics. Me plus this,” she said, pointing at her husbands, “is the perfect storm. We don’t need them on a podcast in the future discussing serial killers.”
The men just laughed.
Why?
She wasn’t wrong.
As for the detectives, they said nothing.
Wisely.
Corbin glanced over.
“Want me to continue?” he asked.
She just nodded.
The sooner they got a baseline, the sooner she could figure out if this was to lure her here, or if they just had a nut doing nutter things.
It was a toss-up.
Corbin did just that.
“The eyeballs look as if they aren’t attached but instead are balanced in the sockets. Some look really dried out too.”
Elizabeth said nothing.
Corbin was the new man on the team, and she was trying to teach him all that she knew.
It was exhausting, training people.
She was doing that a lot lately. She wasn’t sure what she was preparing the world for in the future, but there would be an army of people with her brain.
Maybe.
“They are mismatched.”
She knew what that meant.
This situation required more expertise, and eyeballs were an ick, not her jam.
“Christopher!” she called, as he came into the room and whistled the second he saw the scene of this particular crime.
“Holy cuckoo,” he said. “What the hell?” he asked.
Yeah, he could say that again.
“We’re about to do a deep dive on the science here, so we need your help,” she admitted before focusing on the agent. “Corbin, continue.”
