the officer asked, ignoring Agent Turner’s comment.
“That’s Agent Murphy and, like I said, keep it all business.”
The officer tipped his hat to Rene who was too busy trying to keep up with her partner’s long strides as he walked away. Agent Turner was tall and thin and for every one of his steps, she had to take two. She was determined not to miss anything and that meant keeping up with a man who had no intention of waiting on her.
“Good… the coroner is here. He doesn’t always make it out to the crime scene but this case has piqued his interest,” she heard her partner say.
She listened as he bent down, eyeing the coroner on duty. She bent down with him to take inventory of the body.
“Well, we’ve got the same MO. There’s duct tape in an X pattern over her mouth just like the last victim. That black eye is at least a couple of days old. You can tell by the yellowing that it was beginning to heal,” the coroner told them after acknowledging their arrival.
“So we’re already showing evidence that this is our guy who’s killing victims of spousal abuse?” Agent Turner asked.
“Yep, the same MO of a plastic bag tied over her head for suffocation and duct tape crisscrossed over her lips like an X was found. This is a sure give away that we’re dealing with the same killer,” he told them. The coroner might have confirmed the facts for her partner but, from the look on his face, she could tell it was a conclusion he had already come to on his own.
“You know, I just can’t wrap my brain around why someone would want to kill a woman who is a victim of abuse. It seems to me that the natural reaction would be for a man to want to protect a woman going through that kind of hell.”
“I keep telling you, Herb. Serial killers have no rhyme or reason. They just have obsession with whatever fucked up thing is driving them to kill.”
“Yeah, I have to agree with you, Agent Turner. Most of these guys tend to be a mixture of a messed up nature and a lack of nurture. One feeds the other until it produces a monster.”
“Okay, we’ll be in the library if you need us,” Agent Turner informed the coroner.
Once again, Rene ran behind her partner. At least he had said we. She was getting somewhere with him. It was a start, or so she hoped.
This wasn’t the norm as far as finding dead bodies but Agent Turner had learned to expect the unexpected in his line of work. Ten years of being a top FBI profiler had taught him that much.
“Ma’am,” he spoke to the woman he found standing on a ladder stocking shelves of books. He flashed his credentials as she climbed down to speak to him.
“Do you know anything about the woman they found back behind your library?”
“It isn’t my library. It’s the public’s library but, yes, as a matter of fact, I do know her. Her name’s Debra Joiner. She came in here quite a bit to use the computers. It always seemed odd to me that she would need to borrow the public library’s computers with all the money she had.”
“Oh yeah? Tell me about her.”
“There’s not much to tell. She’s married to some bigwig businessman who works downtown. He’s some racing silks designer—makes uniforms for jockeys. Most of the jockeys use him because they can design their silks specific online. I say they use him ‘cause he has the right connections. He’s been seen eating at that private club with the Governor and he and his wife are regularly featured in the Sunday CJ social section.”
“You say they were in the local newspaper quite a bit?”
“Yep, you know it amazes me how a man who beats his wife can be held in such high esteem. Everyone just turns a blind eye to what he’s doing.”
“What makes you say that?”
“His wife wore big sunglasses more than anyone I’ve ever seen. She dropped ‘em one day and I was horrified when I bent down and picked ‘em up to hand them back to her. The whole side of that woman’s
“That’s Agent Murphy and, like I said, keep it all business.”
The officer tipped his hat to Rene who was too busy trying to keep up with her partner’s long strides as he walked away. Agent Turner was tall and thin and for every one of his steps, she had to take two. She was determined not to miss anything and that meant keeping up with a man who had no intention of waiting on her.
“Good… the coroner is here. He doesn’t always make it out to the crime scene but this case has piqued his interest,” she heard her partner say.
She listened as he bent down, eyeing the coroner on duty. She bent down with him to take inventory of the body.
“Well, we’ve got the same MO. There’s duct tape in an X pattern over her mouth just like the last victim. That black eye is at least a couple of days old. You can tell by the yellowing that it was beginning to heal,” the coroner told them after acknowledging their arrival.
“So we’re already showing evidence that this is our guy who’s killing victims of spousal abuse?” Agent Turner asked.
“Yep, the same MO of a plastic bag tied over her head for suffocation and duct tape crisscrossed over her lips like an X was found. This is a sure give away that we’re dealing with the same killer,” he told them. The coroner might have confirmed the facts for her partner but, from the look on his face, she could tell it was a conclusion he had already come to on his own.
“You know, I just can’t wrap my brain around why someone would want to kill a woman who is a victim of abuse. It seems to me that the natural reaction would be for a man to want to protect a woman going through that kind of hell.”
“I keep telling you, Herb. Serial killers have no rhyme or reason. They just have obsession with whatever fucked up thing is driving them to kill.”
“Yeah, I have to agree with you, Agent Turner. Most of these guys tend to be a mixture of a messed up nature and a lack of nurture. One feeds the other until it produces a monster.”
“Okay, we’ll be in the library if you need us,” Agent Turner informed the coroner.
Once again, Rene ran behind her partner. At least he had said we. She was getting somewhere with him. It was a start, or so she hoped.
This wasn’t the norm as far as finding dead bodies but Agent Turner had learned to expect the unexpected in his line of work. Ten years of being a top FBI profiler had taught him that much.
“Ma’am,” he spoke to the woman he found standing on a ladder stocking shelves of books. He flashed his credentials as she climbed down to speak to him.
“Do you know anything about the woman they found back behind your library?”
“It isn’t my library. It’s the public’s library but, yes, as a matter of fact, I do know her. Her name’s Debra Joiner. She came in here quite a bit to use the computers. It always seemed odd to me that she would need to borrow the public library’s computers with all the money she had.”
“Oh yeah? Tell me about her.”
“There’s not much to tell. She’s married to some bigwig businessman who works downtown. He’s some racing silks designer—makes uniforms for jockeys. Most of the jockeys use him because they can design their silks specific online. I say they use him ‘cause he has the right connections. He’s been seen eating at that private club with the Governor and he and his wife are regularly featured in the Sunday CJ social section.”
“You say they were in the local newspaper quite a bit?”
“Yep, you know it amazes me how a man who beats his wife can be held in such high esteem. Everyone just turns a blind eye to what he’s doing.”
“What makes you say that?”
“His wife wore big sunglasses more than anyone I’ve ever seen. She dropped ‘em one day and I was horrified when I bent down and picked ‘em up to hand them back to her. The whole side of that woman’s
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