With two fingers beneath her chin, he tipped her face up until she had no choice but to meet his gaze. The concern she found there made her chest squeeze.
“I hope you’re not mad,” he said.
She shook her head with more force than necessary. “Mad? No. Just very, very embarrassed. I’m sorry. I mean, we aren’t even dating, but after that kiss the other night…” She hesitated, nerves tangling her thoughts. There was no graceful way to admit this, so she forced herself to say it. “Well, I guess I was kind of hoping…”
His whole face brightened, and the low chuckle that escaped him sent a flutter through her stomach.
“If you must know, I was kind of hoping too.” He brushed a loose strand of hair back from her cheek, his fingers grazing her skin. The touch was brief, but it sent a shiver trailing down her spine. “Listen, I don’t know how busy I’ll be today, but is it all right if I call you later?”
Chapter Fourteen
The task force gathered around the conference table with cups of coffee and plates of bagels spread between them, the low murmur of conversation fading as they prepared for Suki’s presentation. The hum of the overhead fixtures blended with the rustle of paper and the scrape of shifting chairs as the room grew still, everyone's gaze shifting toward the profiler.
Suki took a sip from the cup she’d refilled in the department break room and made a face. Sean understood completely. In seven years with the FBI, he had yet to find a police station capable of producing a decent cup of caffeine. Considering the gourmet blend she kept stocked in her office back in Quantico, this swill had to be borderline offensive. She’d never denied being both a connoisseur and a snob when it came to coffee, and Sean had heard enough lectures from her over the years about the importance of a properly roasted bean to know she was suffering.
Setting the cup aside, she drew in a slow breath before launching into her report. “I've read through the files and autopsy reports and believe I’ve come up with a pretty accurate profile on your killer."
"How accurate is accurate?" Rafe asked.
Sean noticed the sharp focus in the agent's expression. It seemed as if Rafe’s interest in Suki extended beyond professional respect, though to his credit, he was listening to every word she said.
"Well, with profiling, there’s always room for adjustment. It’s an ongoing process that evolves with each kill and crime scene. I may need to tweak my analysis a little when I get hold of the entire Philadelphia case file. However, I believe I’m about ninety percent accurate with this one.”
She rose from her chair and began pacing the length of the room, her notepad open in one hand. Sean recognized the movement as a habit. Sitting still had never suited her when she presented a profile, and the steady motion always seemed to lend greater authority to her delivery.
“You’re looking for a male in his late thirties to early fifties with average or just above average intelligence and educational level. He’ll be able to blend in with his surroundings and is probably considered a model citizen by many. His neighbors have nothing bad to say about him. He holds a good job and may even be married to, or dating, a woman who’s the opposite of his victims.
“In other words, a shy, dark-haired, plain Jane who wears frumpy or old-fashioned clothes. He probably comes from a single-parent home and was raised by an abusive mother. Something set him off in Philadelphia, and because the first victim there was a prostitute and he’s carving the word ‘sinner’ into them, my guess is the victim propositioned him.
“His first kill surprised him—it wasn’t something he planned. From the initial report we received, it seemed to be a disorganized kill. The carved torso was done postmortem. However, when it was all over, he realized he enjoyed it. It excited him. He gained more confidence with each kill and, as a result, became more organized. And now, with the publicity, he may increase the frequency of his kills."
Silence followed. Sean studied the faces around the table. Even the most seasoned among them looked unsettled by the picture Suki had painted. The realization that the killer was growing bolder with every victim seemed to press in from all sides, leaving no one untouched by the grim implication.
Brad’s eyes widened. "You mean he's not going to wait a month?"
Suki shook her head. "I don’t think so. He's had a taste of fame now, and he's going to enjoy it."
“Great. That’s just great.” The detective pressed his fingers to his temples and rubbed. “We may have a profile now, but it brings us no closer to catching this guy. That description could be any one of the thousands of men in the county."
"That may be," Sean said, leaning forward in his chair, "but at least if we start coming up with suspects, we can narrow them down."
“I think these women have all been victims of opportunity,” Suki continued. “I don’t believe he stalked them, and the first time he saw them was the night he killed them.”
He leaned back in his chair, turning a pen between his fingers as he considered her assessment. It fit with what they’d seen so far, though one detail still refused to line up.
“So after the first kill, he went looking for a certain type of woman, found one, and zeroed right in on her. The first five victims were all placed where they would be found relatively quickly. Why was Daphne Jones further off the beaten path, literally?”
Suki glanced down at her notes before lifting her gaze again. “Could be something as simple as he got spooked. Maybe while he was disposing of the body in the park, he heard someone coming and had to hide.”
Sean gave a slight nod. It was plausible. If the killer had panicked, even for a moment, it might explain the deviation.
“Okay,” Brian said, bracing his forearms on the table, “here’s another question. Why the three kills in Pennsylvania, one each month, then nothing until he started up again down here? They obviously had no suspects there, and it hadn’t hit the media. He wasn’t about to be discovered, so why move down here? Why not stay where he was having, I hate to say it, success? It’s not like he ran out of victims.”
The profiler lifted one shoulder. “I don’t think his move to North Carolina had anything to do with his kills, his victims, or any risk of discovery. Maybe his job transferred him, or he moved for family reasons. As long as he has a large enough pool of victims to choose from, it doesn’t matter where he lives.”
The answer made sense, but Sean didn’t like it. It meant they were chasing a man whose relocation could have been triggered by something as ordinary as a promotion or a family obligation. There was no pattern there to exploit. “Hopefully, he’ll start making mistakes somewhere and give us a lead, because right now, we’ve got nothing.”
He flipped open his laptop and scanned the fresh emails waiting in his inbox. One from Mark Evans at the FBI lab caught his attention. Relief stirred as he opened it. At least this was something concrete. “Mark put a rush on the DNA for me. As I expected, it didn’t match anyone in the system. However, if we come up with a suspect, at least we have a sample to compare against.”
