Undercover Elite (Undercover Elite Book 2) (27 page)

Dr. Brinkley

As soon as I exited the shower the call came in, letting me know she had struck again. Perhaps her restraining from killing me roused the beast within her to see someone’s, anyone’s bloodshed—anyone’s but mine. She didn’t waste any time. She must have left immediately after I fell asleep and started her hunt for her next kill.

As soon as I view the body at the truck stop I immediately recognize this as being her work, the blood bath alone speaks of her signature. Cutting a major artery causes bleeding like nothing else will. She has a bloodlust that goes far beyond anything I’ve ever witnessed. Her past M.O. has been to do the cutting after the initial slicing of the femoral. She has a sick need to play in blood.

The thing a female serial killer has going for her is it’s easy to convince a man he’s going to get lucky. At that point lowering your head down on a man in the cab of a truck like you’re going to suck his cock gives you easy access to that main vein running up his inner thigh.

I discreetly reach for the bandage under my shirt, thinking of how she bathed in his blood. The fact she has such an extensive case of bloodlust and didn’t kill me speaks to her sick sense of longing for me. I’m actually lucky she believes she loves me; her dysfunctional form of love saved my life.

Georgia is the calculating, deceptive object of my sexual obsession, so much so that I will keep our secret safe from prying eyes and curious minds. She is the woman who holds me captive and I have a bad case of Stockholm Syndrome. I will obediently await her next assault on my senses. As she directed I will keep her secrets and I will do all I can to ensure she is placed back in my care when caught; what I will not do is enable another escape. For then another victim would be subject to her blood lust, and, therefore, on my conscience -- and that isn’t going to happen. Once again I stroke the area directly over the burn she left on my chest. I wear her brand, I share in her obsession, and her thoughts are captive in my head. She cannot, however, make me a partner in her sick, twisted killings.

Agent Turner’s voice cuts through my thoughts, speaking what I’m thinking. “I’ve never seen anyone with this much of a hunger for blood. What a fucked up example of gluttony.”

“It speaks to her obsessive need to kill, and when she gets the chance she makes her point through overkill or bingeing. For her, there is no cooling off period. Before she finishes one kill, she’s already anticipating the next. As soon as the blood runs dry, the urgent need to kill rises up in her again. Do not underestimate her level of intelligence, Agent Turner. The fact that she left this scene covered in blood leads me to believe she has access to a vehicle so she was able to leave without being noticed. She had to have been bathed in it when she left. Anyone seeing her would have been horrified.”

“She could have stopped someone like she was the one hurt and stolen their car.” My assistant speaks up. Smart girl, that one.

“That’s highly probable,” Agent Turner says with a nod, then instructs a passing PD officer, “Check for stolen cars that were reported last night and put out an APB for any vehicles that were stolen in this immediate area.” He turns to look at me as he continues, “I can’t fathom any other way she could have gotten away with that much blood on her clothing.”

I barely hear Agent Turner when he speaks, “She may have come with a car and hidden it before meeting up with the victim.”

True to form, she remains one step ahead of us.

Thorn

I look at my boss, Cash, and shake my head as we make our way to question the widow of the trucker who was killed last night. “Jesus, working overseas human trafficking cases is easier than this one is turning out to be.”

“Well, working cases like that don’t involve worrying about your girlfriend being on a killer’s radar,” Cash says, giving me a grim look. He understands how deep this goes for me.

“I’m beginning to believe it isn’t her life in danger anymore.”

“What makes you believe that?” he asks, surprised by my change of position.

“She’s had time to realize the doctor has no interest in Windy.”

“I don’t know, Thorn. You don’t have a way to know that for certain. And it doesn’t change the fact she wants to hurt anyone close to him.”

“True, but in her mind it’s only those who are connected to him emotionally who are worthy of her…efforts.”

“She’s still out there killing random men, isn’t she?”

“That’s where the blood-lust fetish comes into play. She enjoys the feel, the smell, the very life in the blood that she rolls around in. That’s some sick shit, dude.”

“First rule of working with the criminally insane is: don’t underestimate them,” Cash says as he turns into the driveway.

“I can assure you, Cash, when it comes to my woman, I’m not taking any chances.”

“I hear you, brother.”

“Hey guys, I’m right here,” Windy says flatly.

“We’re well aware you’re back there, dear,” Cash answers with a chuckle, then continues. “I know that’s right, man. The sooner we get this woman off the streets, the sooner we’ll all rest easier.”

“Well, maybe the widow can answer some of our questions,” Windy says optimistically from the backseat. “Thorn, this isn’t the time to be a hard-ass—you know, the prickly personality thing that got you your nickname.”

“I’m not that bad,” I mutter indignantly.

“Yeah, you are,” Windy pipes in. “If you want information, you’re going to get more if you’re nice.” She glares at the back of Cash’s head when she hears laughter from the driver’s seat. “As I was saying, play on the fact she’s well aware her husband used prostitutes on the road trips he took. She’ll be pissed on her own because of that. If you come at her accusing her husband, her innate desire to defend him will come out and she’ll close down. We need to use her being mad at him to our advantage.”

I turn around to face Windy in the backseat, “Damn, baby, you really are hardcore about interviews. Maybe the guys and I should come up with a nickname for
you
? Seriously, maybe you should question her. She may be more inclined to open up to a woman.” I give her the slow smile she likes so much, “Especially a badass woman.”

“I think he’s right,” Cash turns, looking back at her after he cuts the engine.

“I’m game; it will give me the opportunity to hone my profiling skills.”

We make our way out of the car, up the sidewalk and to the door to question a woman who’s just been informed her husband was brutally murdered. The odd thing about it is, the sooner you question a family member after the death of a loved one, the more apt you are to get fresh details and a possible lead. I’m glad my woman will be doing the talking because every time she does a job with me, it brings us that much closer and paves the way for her to work with me full time. She just doesn’t know it yet.

Windy

I clutch my notepad and pen close to my chest as I ring the doorbell and wait. I have no doubt she’ll be here. Most people, after hearing traumatic news like the death of a loved one, aren’t able to function immediately out in public; I just hope no one else is here because it will be easier to question her if she’s alone. Her situation is embarrassing enough and anyone else being here during questioning could cause her to shut down.

A woman who appears to be about fifty answers the door dressed in a house dress with an apron tied around her waist. She wipes her hands on the apron and opens the door. “I assume you’re the team Agent Turner said he was sending over; something about a profiler in training.”

“Yes, ma’am, thank you so much for seeing us. As you can imagine, we very much want to catch the person who did this and offer you some closure.”

“Come on in, then.”

Her voice sounds resigned to the fact she’s now a widow. We follow her into a small sitting area where she directs us to a couch. She takes a seat after she offers us a drink and we decline.

I fumble to open my notebook and start writing furiously when she immediately begins to open up to us. “My husband was in the habit of hiring girls for sex. I went through menopause younger than most women, I think, and after I went through it I wasn’t able to, you know, have sex due to pain and I guess all men have needs so he began hiring women from the truck stops. I found out when I found a woman’s number in his wallet. He said it wasn’t anything but a way to have his needs met and we never talked about it after that. It isn’t the kind of thing a wife wants to dwell on. I just want his memory not to be soiled in any way.”

“Yes, ma’am, I understand and anything we discuss will be kept private.”

“The agent, Turner, I think it was, said he suspected a woman had picked up my husband and done this to him. Why in the world would any woman want to do something so horrible?”

“We think we’re dealing with a serial killer. This isn’t the first time she’s done this.”

“Shouldn’t you people be warning the public, making up flyers and putting her picture up in truck stops?”

“The authorities have been proceeding cautiously to start with, but I agree with you. I think the time for caution has passed and that’s an excellent idea, Mrs. Davis; an excellent idea.”