Apparently, there is nothing as tempting as a locked door.
“Katelyn Elizabeth Amos, we need to talk.”
I looked up. Shoulder length auburn hair, blue eyes, pale skin. Randi.
“Okay, first of all, how the hell did you get in here? And second of all...what?”
Randi brushed bangs from her freckled face and smiled sweetly at me, “Oh, you know! I have my ways. And a key, but that doesn't really matter right now, does it?” She said, eyeing me cautiously.
“How did you get a key to my office?”
“Look, it's not important,” Randi began impatiently. I held up my hands in a 'whatever' gesture and leaned back in my office chair, “You'll never guess.”
I sighed and closed my eyes. I could feel Randi's glare on my face. I opened one lid.
“Of course I'll never guess if you don't tell me.” I replied, voice sounding a little throaty. I suspected I was getting a cold, and no matter how much I enjoyed Randi's presence, I just wanted to be alone.
“But if I told you, there would be nothing to guess!”
“What do you need, Randi?” I finally said, propping my arms on my knees as I leaned forward.
“I'm meeting Nick Jonas!”
I blinked. My arms dropped limply to my sides and I threw my head back onto the chair.
“What?” Randi said defensively, crossing her arms, “What is the damn problem, Amos?”
“The damn problem is that you need to see a therapist. This obsession is getting out of hand. You're twenty five years old, Kernohan.”
“There is nothing wrong with loving Nicholas Jerry Jonas,” She lowered her voice to a comprehensible mutter. “He is lovely.”
I rolled my eyes a full three sixty, “Oh, no. Nothing wrong with that. And I suppose there's nothing wrong with child porn either, right?”
If looks could kill. Randi glared daggers through me.
“I'm kidding. Don't kill me.”
She kept glaring. “I just might.”
“Look, Randi, I need to file paperwork, write a report, and then talk to Will about the profile for the latest suspect in the Hadley case. You know, the one with the severed head?”
Randi cringed, “As the only normal person in this lab, can I say 'ew'?”
I smiled at Randi's usual distaste towards my profession, “Hey, not everyone can be a facial reconstruction artist like yourself.”
She smiled at me before waving and walking out of my office, “Bye, lover!”
I shook my head at the last part. What was with the constant 'lover' business?
I picked a few folders from my desk and flipped through them until I found the one marked 'Hadley'. I flipped the folder open and was greeted with the photos from the crime scene.
Remy Hadley was a twenty one year old white female, born in 1989 to Philip and JoAnne Hadley. She had gone to a private school in the suburbs of New Jersey. On July 22nd, 2009, she'd disappeared. Her body had been sent to me not a week today, torso devoid of its head.
I flipped through the stack of photos. The first few were standard shots of the ravine where her dismembered corpse was located. My heart tightened. Who knew a photograph of a ravine could hold such sad emotions? The next few were shots of a plastic body bag, zipped and then unzipped, the latter showing Remy's headless body. I'd been a forensic anthropologist for almost four years, and the sight of corpses still made me shudder. I flipped through the rest of the photographs solemnly, placing them back into the folder when I was done.
I closed the folder and placed it to the side. I didn't feel like paperwork. I didn't feel like working, period. But, of course, I had to. I picked up the folder and hurried from my office, closing and locking the door on my way out. I walked towards the offices of the FBI at a near jog, probably the reason why I ran smack dab into the chest of a man a head taller than me. “Might wanna watch where you're going there, Katie.” Soft, male voice. I sighed in recognition.
“Might wanna shut up, Ryan.” I snapped.
Ryan Carr looked down at me, eyebrow raised over evergreen eyes, “A little testy there, aren't we Katie?”
“My name is Katelyn. Not Katie, not Kate. Katelyn.” I sighed. I was getting extremely annoyed by Ryan's playful attitude. I had a case to solve.
Special Agent Ryan Carr. I had known him for only a year, having worked a previous murder investigation with him. Since then, he'd been under the impression that we were crime solving partners like Batman and Robin. I hated to disappoint him.
He was a tall man, around six-one or six-two. Sandy brown hair topped an oval shaped face, accented with ever-so-green eyes that could pierce right through you. Nice body, I had to admit. Charming smile. Terribly annoying, and yet, I found him sexy as hell.
Shaking the thoughts from my head, I tried to move around Ryan. He had other plans. Catching me by the waist, he pulled me back around to face him. I sighed exasperatedly.
“Ryan, I don't have time for this! I need to see Will and get the profile for the suspect in the Hadley case.”
Ryan's eyes and grin widened. “Oh, the Hadley case? I'm interviewing the suspect in a couple hours! How's that for a coinky dink?”
I stared at him.
“Care to join?” He said, pleading with his eyes. I shook my head.
“I'm an anthropologist, Ryan, not a cop. I don't interrogate. I look at bones.”
Ryan pouted and let go of my waist. “Fine, have it your way. I'll let you know what I find out later.”
I sighed. Again. He still thought we were partners. “Fine.”
I started walking again, leaving Ryan in the middle of the hallway. As I approached the office of resident FBI psychologist and profiler, Will Humphries, I began to think about the interrogation that would be taking place only a few hours later.
Our suspect was Pablo Tacolini, twenty seven year old male from Mexico City. Immigrated to Canada in 1999, Pablo was seen frequently around the Hadley home. The FBI received several calls from a concerned JoAnne Hadley, who had seen a man who fit Pablo's description waiting outside her home in a black Pontiac Grand Am several times. When Remy's body had been found, he'd been called in for questioning.
I pushed open the door to Will's office. He sat inside in a leather chair, a notepad balanced on his lap.
“Hey Will,” I said quietly, not wanting to startle him. He looked up and smiled.
“Oh, hey Katelyn.” He replied, putting away his notebook. He gestured to the couch in front of him. I walked into the room and took a seat, the cool leather soothing against my arms and legs.
“What's up?” I asked nonchalantly, “How's the psych?”
Will smiled. “Fine, as longs as you keep your grubby anthro hands off of it.” I matched his grin with one of my own.
Will and I went way back. We'd become friends during an ice fight in kindergarten. We'd gone to the same elementary and high schools, taken the same Introduction to Anthropology course. The only difference was that I had stuck with Anthropology, and Will, on the other hand, had taken a liking to Psychology. We ended up in the same university together, and when I had gotten my job working for the FBI out of the Geffersonian, I'd helped him get a job as a profiler. We were pretty close friends.
“You're here for the Pablo Tacolini psychological profile, right?” He asked, rummaging through a folder on the table beside him. I nodded.
“The sick bastard they think killed Remy.”
Will grabbed a file and looked up. “Do they have any really hard evidence?” He asked.
I shook my head. “Not really. Ryan's going out to interrogate him later.”
Will nodded in response, “Well, when I first saw this guy, I thought he came from friggin' New Taco or Jalapeno Central or something. Name's a bit of a coincidence too, huh? I mean, Tacolini?”
I couldn't help but burst out laughing. The kid had always had a great sense of humour.
“What's so funny?” Will said with a smirk, “Why are you laughing? This is me at my best, here.”
I smiled and regained composure. “Okay, so tell me about Mr. Tacolini.”
Will opened the file. “Well, from the few words I spoke to Tacolini, and the info the FBI gave me, I came to the conclusion that he's an obsessive compulsive, probably suffering from erotomania as well, 25 considering the apparent obsession with Remy Hadley.”
I must have looked confused.
“Erotomania is the delusion in which a person believes that another person, most likely a stranger, is in in love with them. It usually occurs during psychosis, when a patient believes that a 'secret admirer', or their obsession, is declaring his or her love to the patient, often with signals, glances, and telepathy. Usually, the patient returns the affection with letters, phone calls, gifts, and visits to the recipient.”
I nodded. “So Erotomania is basically like obsessive love?”
Will nodded back to me. “Basically. Obsessive love is different by definition, but the concept is the same.”
“So Pablo is an obsessive compulsive, and and erotomaniac?”
“Seems to be that way,” Will said, placing the file back onto the table, “I've seen the pictures of his home, everything is in order, alphabetically, numerically. The erotomania is obvious, seeing as he'd visited the Hadley home, sent her letter, and so on.”
“Alright.” I said, satisfied. Will handed the file to me, “Thanks, Will.”
“No problem, that's my job.”
I smiled. Suddenly, my pocket vibrated. I pulled my cell from my pocket and brought it to my ear.
I sighed, “Ryan, what the hell do you want?”
I heard Ryan snort on the other line. “Wow, no need to snap at me, Katie. I just called to say hello.”
“No, you didn't. What do you want?”
“Where are you?”
“Getting the profile?”
“Yes, Ryan. Where are you?”
Ryan paused. “Taco Bell.”
I rolled my eyes. “Taco Bell? That's disgusting. Why are you at Taco Bell?”
“Um, excuse me? Taco Bell is delicious Mexican goodness! Anyway, I'm leaving soon to get to the interrogation. You're sure you don't want to go?”
“I'm sure, Ryan.”
I paused. Okay, he was being adorable, but I was supposed to be able to resist that! I sighed, “I'll meet you in your office in thirty minutes.”
I had the weirdest feeling he was smiling. “Okay then, Katie.”
I was about to hang up when Will spoke, “Are you speaking to Agent Carr?”
I nodded. “He's at Taco Bell, why?”
Will's eyes widened dramatically. “Can you tell him to get me a grande spicy volcano crazy super hot wowzers taco?”
I stared at him.
“I'll see you in a bit, Ryan.”
© Copyright 2016 Juliet Adrianna Pettyfer. All rights reserved.
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