“Probably? Might be? Maybe?” I tapped my pen at the same words typed in front of me. “What happens when we target our search to these parameters and never find him because his profile is entirely different?”
Samantha folded her hands in her lap. “A profile is a guide. It’s not intended to be a solution.”
“Everyone in this room knows the strengths and pitfalls of criminal profiling.” Dad rolled his chair out from the table, but he didn’t take a seat. “We’re not going to catch this guy from a profile, just like we’re not going to catch him off one piece of evidence. It’s going to be a collection of information, paired with the collaboration of the experts I have assembled in this room. That’s how we’re going to put this son of a bitch behind bars.”
Flipping to another section in the binder, I shook my head at the thought of how long it would take to read the documents alone, not including the time involved to find a person who was so skilled, no one had known of his existence until last week.
“Where do we begin with something this massive?” My private thoughts became public.
“The last kill, while everything’s still fresh,” Dad replied. “We’ll interview neighbors, dig into anyone who might have had a motive to want Darryl Skovil dead. We’ll grease some wheels in the police department to see what direction they might be taking with the case. We start with Skovil and work our way back to the beginning.” His eyes dropped to his watch. “I’ve taken up enough of your time for one evening and I’m sure you’ll all want time to familiarize yourself with the information we’ve assembled in the binders. I’m in the process of securing an office space for us to utilize in a central location, but in the mean time, the Highlands has agreed to let us borrow this space. You have any questions, concerns, insights, you name it, this thing is permanently attached to my ear.” He tapped his cell lying on the table beside his binder. “We’ll reconvene this weekend to divvy up the workload and responsibilities. I want to get to this guy before he realizes we’re after him, which means no one talks to the press about this. Complete media silence, understood?”
“How much extra are you paying us for discretion, Silas?” Don teased as he closed his binder and rose from his seat.
My dad gave one of those wide smiles that implied he had a secret. “I’m paying you in my own discretion.” He grinned wider. “And the arm and a leg I’m paying each of you for your assistance. Except for you, Gracey girl.” Dad’s smile fell. “I promised Stan you would serve as nothing more than an occasional advisor on this, an uncompensated consultant. We don’t need to get buried in conflict of interest issues before we get going.” He stopped when he noticed the look on my face. “That okay with you? I figured the trust fund I’ve left in your name is more than enough to cover whatever favor your dear ol’ dad might ask of you.”
I gathered up my things with everyone else, ignoring his question since I took it to be a rhetorical one.
“Thank you, everyone,” Dad droned as they filed out of the room.
Teddy paused as he was passing me, tapping my arm lightly. “Good to have you on the team.”
I replied as he moved on, resisting the instinct to glare at Will when he waved at me before leaving.
Dad waited until everyone had filed from the room. Hands capped over the headrest of his chair, he licked his lips. “So? Have I made a convincing case? Are you on board?”
“I need time to review the information before I make my final decision.” I squeezed the binder at my side. “Either way, you’ve assembled one hell of a team here. You won’t need my help to find this guy.”
“Blood is thicker than water,” was all he said, as though that were the explanation to every question I could pose.
“And messier.”
His nostrils flared before he took a deep breath. “I need you on this, Gracey.”
A huff echoed in my chest. “Now I know you’re lying.”
“Fine.” He lifted his hands. “I’d like you on this.”
“Because I worked the Skovil case?” I guessed.
“Because of that”—his head moved—“but because you’re good as well.”
The familiar sting burned in my eyes, emerging from out of nowhere, without my consent or knowledge of its manifestation. Gathering my purse, I made my way toward the door before he could notice.
“You know what’s sad?” I stood in the doorway, shaking my head. “After nearly four decades of being a daughter, I still can’t discern if my father’s mocking me or issuing a compliment.”
“Gracey?” he called as I continued through the door.
“I’ll help,” I replied, leaving before I could take back my answer—before doubt could bubble to the surface, hissing reminders and rebukes that I was already failing my current commitments. But that was the way doubt was, sneaking in when we were most vulnerable, leaking into the cracks and scars that had yet to heal.
By the time I made it home that night, Noah was in bed asleep, as I guessed Andee was given the lack of light streaming from beneath her door. On the front porch was the dinner I’d scheduled to have delivered tonight at eight, untouched and unnoticed. Even if I was hungry, I knew better than to touch sushi that had been sitting out unrefrigerated for hours.
After dumping the bag in the outside garbage, I tucked myself into the corner chair in the living room and opened the heavy binder, eager for the distraction it would offer.
I read the entire thing, cover to cover, not surfacing for so much as a drink or bathroom break. That was how Noah found me the next morning, pouring over the hulking binder, eyes bloodshot, yesterday’s suit rumpled around me. He inspected the mess of highlighters and sticky notes I had scattered about.
“God, Grace.” Noah blinked the sleep out of his eyes, checking the time on his watch. “Have you been up all night?”
“Yeah,” I answered absently, jotting down a thought as it struck me.
“What’s so important it demands an all-nighter?” He wandered toward the kitchen, probably to start the coffee.
I scribbled down another note. My mind was all over the place, part genius and part mad, brought on by the lack of sleep.
I tore my eyes away from the binder when Noah padded back into the living room. “A serial killer.”
Ten
“Andee, I’m heading out. There’s money on the counter if you want to order pizza or anything.” I bounced down the hall, switching feet as I slid on my heels.
As usual, I was running late for a non-work related event. Noah would meet me at the restaurant once he finished with his last patient. His office was located in the U District and the restaurant we were meeting Dean and his date at was nestled in the Pike Place neighborhood close by.
“Andee?” I stopped outside of her bedroom as I wrestled with my earrings. There wasn’t a response, but I heard signs of life inside.
“What the hell!” I shouted after flinging open the door to find my sixteen-year-old daughter lying topless beneath an equally topless young man.
“Shit!” Andee cried, more from annoyance than embarrassment as the boy scrambled off of her, reaching for his shirt at the foot of her bed.