A hand slams on the table causing everyone to jump. Not me though. I smile as I pick at my nails, bored. Let them see her true colors. It’s quite entertaining.
“You’re an ungrateful little bitch. After everything I’ve done for you, you kick me out of my home? This won’t be the last time you hear from me!” she threatens me as she rises from her chair.
“Correction, my home in which my mother had raised me before she passed. I suggest you watch your tone or you’ll be back on the streets. You can leave now.” I stare daggers at her as she huffs and leaves the room.
Leaning forward, I push my chair into the table and examine the papers they had on their agenda to discuss.
“Now, tell me where we stand on our sales this week.” I change the subject giving the prior one no more attention. It’s time to get back to business.
CHAPTER TWO
ALARIC
“The evil that men do lives after them; The good is oft interrèd with their bones.” - William Shakespeare
Grabbing the coffee pot, I pour some of the bland liquid into my mug. Today’s going to be a long day with shitty coffee. I nearly slept through my alarm this morning as my body longed for the sleep it deserves but is always denied. I regret staying up all night studying the current case I was placed on. Three bodies showed up in the last three weeks. One each week, all women. There’s no trace of our unsub which is frustrating as hell. He’s good, but I should have had him already.
“Looking like shit, Solace. Have you heard of a thing called sleep?” Agent Monroe bumps into me, causing the liquid to slosh over the rim of my mug landing on my hand.
Fuck, that’s hot.
“I do sleep. Hand me a towel, why don’t ya?” I set my mug down, turning on the faucet to run my handunder it.
The cool water eases the burn as I leave my hand for a minute or so before I pump soap and wash off my sticky hand.
“Really? Because those bags under your eyes say otherwise.” She throws a towel over at me as I turn off the water. “We all know you’re married to this job, but you can’t do anything if you end up asleep at your desk.”
“I’m fine, Monroe. Hopefully we can get some leads today so we can close this damn case. Maybe then I’ll take a few days off and sleep straight through.” We walk out of the break room towards our desk.
Taking my seat, I set my mug down on the desk and log into my computer. Emails start to pile in and one grabs my attention. Clicking the message, I open to the scene photos from the last victim along with the autopsy report. Death by choking. A jawbreaker was found lodged into her throat. Pulling up the pictures from the scene, she had tape over her mouth with lips drawn on it, her body had bruises all over, and small cuts were along her body.
She was found naked in Town Square with a note stapled to her stomach with “whore” written on it. This would be the third female we’ve found with the same cause of death, markings, and note. All three had no family, and appeared that all had worked at a strip club. Each from a different location. The media had caught wind of the unsub and had labeled him as The Jawbreaker. I really hate when they start giving these criminals names. It adds fuel to the fire and encourages this behavior.
“Solace, Monroe, go grab Beckett and come to the conference room.” Director Stevens walks out of his office and heads towards the room.
I quickly print out the photos, grab my folder, and head to the printer to grab the images. Monroe grabs Beckett and we settle into our seats. No doubt he’s going to want an update onthis case. He’s already on edge due to the investigation taking too long by his standards. Would love to see him doing some actual work then bitch at us every time cases don’t go his way.
“What do you have for me?” he demands, straight to the point.
“Three women, all around the age of twenty-four and every single one of them work in a strip club, either as a bartender or a dancer. No family, all the same markings and cause of death.” I pull out the photos and report and hand them over to him.
He takes a moment to scan through them. His body shivers at the state these women are in. You would think, doing this for a long time, he would have a strong stomach and not appear as if he’s going to vomit.
“The unsub didn’t leave any traces to help identify him. We believe the unsub has issues with the type of industry they work for. Either from rejection, or possible religion, as he stapled that note on the body,” Monroe speaks up with her analysis of the profile she has so far.
“What we can’t figure out is, why the jawbreaker?” Beckett cuts in. “I’ve tried tracing any data from the surrounding area of Town Square and come up empty.”
“Appears to be his signature. Have we gone to the clubs and spoken with the manager and other employees about these women?” Director Stevens speaks without looking at anyone but his phone as an alert appears on his screen.
He calls us into a meeting for a briefing but can’t give us the curtesy by staying off his damn phone. If we were to do the same, no matter what it was for, we would get our asses handed to us. I don’t say anything though. I’ll pick a fight with him later, I’m sure.
“Yes. All of them come in, work their shift, and go home. They don’t really interact with any of the other girls unless they’re asked to pick up a shift. Seems like he’s targeting thevictims who have no one to miss them if they were to disappear.” I rub my hands along my face. This exhaustion is starting to take a toll. I need more coffee.
Before we can present any more, an agent rushes through the door, face flushed with his eyes practically popping out of the sockets.
“I think you guys need to see this. We just received a video.” We shoot up from our seats following the agent out of the conference room.
We surround his desk, anticipating what he’s about to show us. He pulls up a video that was sent to us from an anonymous sender and presses play. The feed shows a woman gagged, tied up by her hands and her feet, naked. Her arms are above her head, eyes pleading at the camera for help. Upon her stomach she has the word “whore” carved onto her middle. He went from stapling a piece of paper to torturing her flesh on her skin.
