by Leanna Floyd
“‘Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar’?” he asked, raising a dark bushy eyebrow.
“Something like that,” Brooke grinned and said, appreciating his Freudian reference. “Thank you, for telling me.” She began to rise from the table, and he quickly stood up and pulled her chair out.
“I’ve enjoyed this, Brooke. Next time—if there is a next time,” he said, “I ask the questions and you do all the talking, okay?”
“Deal,” Brooke said and took the hand he offered. His strong grip lingered in her palm, and she could feel his pulse beneath her fingertips. Oh, yes, she thought, there would definitely be a next time.
Chapter 22
“I thought you were going to Miami this weekend to meet your mystery woman, the alluring Alicia. Don’t tell me you’ve already moved on to some other online hottie.”
Jacob sighed and regretted calling Brooke. “I was supposed to drive down this weekend, but something came up.”
“She backed out on you? It’s probably better this way, sweetie—you realize ‘Alicia’ is probably some 60-year-old Asian man, don’t you?”
“Back off, Brooke, okay? You’re not funny.”
“Touchy! Sorry, Jay,” she said, “tell me what happened.”
“Alicia’s son, Charlie, was almost kidnapped last night.”
“Kidnapped? Are you serious?” Brooke’s voice rose an octave.
“Last night, Alicia and Charlie went with her sister, Jasmine, to Walmart. They were going to buy some snacks and a new racing video game for Charlie to have this weekend while he’s at his aunt’s—when Alicia and I were going to be together. They were standing by the meat counter, and Charlie wanted to look at the fish, so Alicia let him go over to the case. She turned her back for a couple seconds talking to the meat guy, and when she looked back, Charlie was gone…”
“Oh, my god, that’s terrible, Jacob. Did they find him? Is Charlie okay?”
“Yeah…” Jacob choked up with emotion and wondered which upset him most: that Charlie was almost kidnapped or that he would not get to meet Alicia this weekend. He continued, “Alicia panicked and started screaming for Charlie, but he was nowhere in sight. She and Jasmine started running toward the front of the store when Alicia saw the back of a man holding Charlie’s hand and dragging him along. She screamed and pointed so another customer tried to stop the man. When the guy who had Charlie realized the customer was onto him, he shoved Charlie to the floor and sprinted away.”
“I’m so sorry—it’s just so hard to believe something like that could happen,” Brooke said. “Did they catch the guy?”
“Nope,” Jacob answered, once again trying to choke down his emotions.
“How can that be? Don’t they have video cameras throughout the store—you know, those facial-recognition cameras?”
Jacob stood up and opened his blinds. The morning sun glared back, and he winced as his eyes adjusted. “Yeah, but apparently the guy wore a hoodie and dark sunglasses. Alicia said they couldn’t make out a clear face.”
“What about video surveillance in the parking lot? Was anyone with that description seen getting in or out of a car that could be traced?” Brooke asked.
“No. I asked the same questions. Alicia said that the manager reviewed all of the videos, and there was no clear footage. The guy disappeared on foot at the edge of the parking lot. He must’ve had a car parked nearby,” Jacob said.
“Did they call the police? What did they say?”
“Yes,” Jacob said, “the police made a report, and they’re going to have the Dade County Sheriff’s patrol keep a close watch on the store. Alicia said she couldn’t leave Charlie this weekend—he’s so upset.”
“Jacob, are you okay? I know you must be disappointed, not to mention worried about Alicia and Charlie.”
“I’m okay,” he said, debating whether to share his real concern with Brooke. “Well, I’m actually upset for a different reason. After Alicia called, I called the police department to get the case number. I thought, maybe, I could get someone at work to help me look into it. That way, if they caught this guy and Alicia needed an attorney, we’d be set. But the police had no record of any such report being filed. So, I called the Walmart where it supposedly happened. In fact, I called a dozen Walmarts, all within twenty miles of Alicia’s house. Not one had a potential child abduction take place this week. They acted like I was crazy.”
“I’m sure there must be some explanation…” Brooke said.
“I know what you’re thinking—the same thing I’ve already wondered. What if Alicia is a serial liar stringing me along. I mean, why else would she make up such an elaborate story just to avoid meeting me? I just don’t get it. Maybe you were right, Brooke.”
“I’m just concerned about you, Jacob,” Brooke said, “I just don’t want to see you get hurt.”
Jacob took a deep long sigh and replied, “I know—and I appreciate it. You’ve always been there for me. Thank you for not saying, ‘I told you so.’”
“No, that’s not what this is about. I care about you. I’ve tried to respect you and your feelings, but, yes, you’ve got to be careful with these online relationships. This is definitely a red flag, you know?”
“Or maybe there’s some other reason she can’t tell me the truth. I know she exists. I talk to her every day. I talk to her son, her best friend, her buddy Hector. She’s real. I just don’t know what her game is. Based on what you know, Brooke, what do you think?”
He heard her take a deep breath before launching into her theory. “Honestly, it sounds like she may have some commitment issues. I mean, maybe she’s afraid to meet you because then you’ll be real and not just her fantasy man. When you become real, you become a threat, bringing to life all of her fears about relationships. In the past, when she opened her heart to a man, she was rejected and abandoned. On the unconscious level, she’s probably putting you into the same category as her ex, which, from what you’ve told me, is not so good.”
“So, what should I do now? How do I convince her that I’m not going to hurt her like her ex?”
“Are you sure you want to be with someone with commitment issues? I mean, you can’t change her view of men or convince her you’re not like her ex over the computer. Alicia is going to take time, and you’ll have to prove yourself to her. From my experience, these types of wounded individuals often have dysfunctional patterns of relating. She’s not going to be an easy girl to date.”
“I’m not going to let her push me away that easily,” he said. “I’m going to meet her one way or another. Hey—she’s trying to call me right now. I’ll call you back, okay?”
“Bye,” she said. “And be careful.”
He ended his call with Brooke and tried to shift his focus before answering.
“Hey, babe, what’s up?” he said, trying to sound as normal as possible.
“Jacob, hi,” Alicia said, sounding out of breath. “Charlie’s sleeping, so I thought I’d give you a quick call. Thank you again for being so understanding.”
“Of course, babe,” he said. “That’s scary shit, having your son almost taken from you like that. The world is such a crazy place these days.”
“For sure, I mean this is the kind of stuff you see on the news, not the kind of stuff you ever expect to happen to your own child,” she said. “Listen, I know we were both looking forward to finally meeting each other, and I am not going to let this incident keep us apart. I want to make it up to you. I talked to Charlie, and we would like you to come down and meet both of us next weekend if you’re available.”
Sure didn’t see that coming! His heart about burst out of his chest. “Uh, sure, I’d love that! What a nice surprise.”
“I can’t wait!” Alicia said. “I know just where I want us to eat. And Charlie can’t wait to show you his favorite beach. I know you two will hit it off!”
“You’re sure you’re okay with me meeting him? Why the change of heart? I mean, you and I still haven’t met yet so…
” Jacob couldn’t imagine what had happened to change Alicia’s mind so quickly.
“After our little scare at Walmart, he and I have talked about a lot of things. He knows I like you a lot, and he says he understands that you and I still need to get to know one another better. But he’s a mature kid and doesn’t want me to be alone the rest of my life.”
Jacob smiled to himself. He should never have doubted her. Brooke was wrong. “Sounds like he’s a lot like his mother—selfless and caring! I can’t wait to meet him!” He still hadn’t told Alicia about his failed attempts to verify her Walmart story. But she could explain it to him once they were face-to-face. He would be able to look in her eyes and know whether she was lying.
“It’s a date!”
Chapter 23
Brooke sat staring out the window in her cramped faculty office. Sunlight filtered through dull blue skies that kept shifting and undulating, more like waves than clouds. It was cool and windy outside, typical for early November, and the air conditioning in the building made her grateful for ‘Old Faithful’, the navy cardigan she kept in her office. Her coffee had grown cold and she couldn’t concentrate.
“Got a minute?” Dr. Gregory said, popping his head inside her door. “Looks like you could use a break anyway.”
“Of course,” Brooke smiled, grateful to see her friend and mentor. “I’ve always got time for you.” Actually, she’d probably been taking too long of a break, staring out the window and pondering what to do about Jacob. Maybe talking to Dr. G would restore her focus on the research she was collecting for her dissertation.
Dr. Gregory came in, dressed in a dark wool sport coat that had seen better days, a pastel blue oxford-cloth shirt, and jeans. With his inquisitive eyes and salt-and-pepper beard, he looked every inch the quintessential professor.
“I brought you a present,” he said, placing a small tower in front of her. Dozens of manila folders, along with several issues of the APA Journal, topped off by half a dozen black hardback books that she recognized as bound library copies of past dissertations, threatened to spill over. Brooke sorted through the pile and skimmed titles, quickly realizing all involved profiling serial killers.
“Wow, thanks,” she said. “Your personal treasure trove? I thought I was supposed to do all my own research for this dissertation.”
“Very funny.” He smiled and sat in the only other chair available, one obviously not intended for his long legs. “Actually, once you dive into that stuff, you’ll realize that most of it is ancient history—cases and theories you’re well aware of. These are just some of my personal materials that I wanted you to review in case you get put on the stand.”
Brooke’s eyes darted up from the page she’d been skimming to read his intent. “What do you mean in case I get ‘put on the stand’?”
“I’ve been called down to Miami to assist the FBI and their state team with the Surfside Killer case. I assume you’ve heard about it?”
“Only a few sound bites and Internet headlines,” she said.
Dr. Gregory nodded and said, “It’s probably worse than they’ve admitted to the press. Four victims this year—all young, working-class women—who were last seen getting off a late shift at work or having a drink in some beachside bar. But reviewing open cases from the past two years, it’s likely this killer has been at work for some time.”
“God, that’s terrible,” said Brooke. She and Dr. Gregory, though accustomed to talking shop about some of the darkest aspects of the psyche, tried never to forget they were talking about actual flesh-and-blood human beings. “So how can I help?”
“Well, depending on how long I’m down there, I may need you to provide expert testimony in the Barton case,” he said. “I hate to ask and add more to your plate, but I’m not sure how to cover both cases. But if it’s too much, I can call in someone from out of state.”
“No—of course, I’m up for it,” Brooke said, trying to contain her excitement.
This was just the kind of break that could launch her professional career at warp speed. “Have you cleared this with the attorney general’s office? Or with the D.A. prosecuting Barton? If they’re expecting the esteemed Dr. Paul Gregory and get me instead, they won’t be happy.”
“All taken care of,” he said, leaning forward and resting an arm on the edge of her desk. “I explained the situation and insisted that you were my proxy, the only expert in Florida in whom I would be 100% confident. I told them you’re the brightest, most naturally gifted psychologist I’ve ever encountered in my 34-year career, basically a profiling prodigy.”
“Why would you lie to them like that?” Brooke said, only half-joking.
“Don’t open a door for your insecurity to walk in,” he said sternly. “We don’t have time for polite modesty and false humility. You don’t even know how good you are. But I do. And I meant every word I told them. So, put any first-timer’s jitters aside and just do your best. That’s all I ask, okay?”
She nodded and searched his eyes, her own welling up with tears. No one had ever believed in her the way Dr. Gregory did. It was overwhelming and empowering and terrifying all at once. “I’ll do my best. I promise.”
He stood up, came around, and put his hand on her shoulder.
“That’s all we can do. I believe in you, Brooke. I’ll call you from Miami.” With that, he left her office as quickly as he had appeared, shutting the door behind him.
Looking through the stack of case notes, articles, and past dissertations, Brooke did indeed recognize almost all of the cases and profiling theories put forth. Many of them reminded her of being an undergraduate and being surprised to find herself so fascinated by the relationship between the mind and violent crimes. For a while, she had somewhat of a morbid obsession with the details of each case she’d read about—so much that her roommate, Becca, started calling her ‘Clarice’, Jodie Foster’s character from The Silence of the Lambs.
Truth be told, Brooke didn’t always understand her fascination with serial killers. No one in her family or community had ever been a victim. She herself was not prone to violence. Her only conclusion was the game of it, believing she could outsmart others and truly make a positive difference by bringing violence to an end by apprehending the perpetrators and ending their own grisly games.
What life events compelled killers to find some kind of psychological payoff in their violence against others? What past trauma was stuck on an endless loop deep in their psyche, urging them to seek relief through participation?
Years ago, Brooke imagined a serial killer looked like what she saw in the movies and TV shows, similar to the stereotype most people held: a man in his mid-40s who wore a distinct part in his greasy hair, with oversized glasses, wearing work pants and a t-shirt revealing self-inscribed prison tattoos. She quickly learned, however, there was no particular face of a serial killer.
They were neighbors, teachers, lawyers, doctors, plumbers, and homemakers, old ladies in line at the grocery store, old classmates from your high school, piano teachers, truck drivers, Sunday school teachers, fathers, grandfathers, brothers, mothers, grandmothers, and girlfriends.
They could be anyone.
Chapter 24
The week had flown by and Jacob couldn’t wait until Friday—and now it was only a day away. He had bought a couple new polo shirts and a cool pair of jammers he could wear to the beach. The weather forecast called for unseasonably warm weather that weekend. Everything was finally coming together!
Until it all crashed and fell apart. Alicia called that night, Thursday, and he could immediately tell something was wrong—and he knew she was about to back out of their weekend yet again.
“It’s just that Charlie has a bad cold and keeps complaining about his leg hurting. I let him stay home Wednesday from school, but now he seems to have gotten worse. He has a 104 fever, and his breathing seems labored and wheezy. I just don’t want you coming down here and catching something. Plus, he won’t feel like doing anything.”
“Right, of course,” Jacob said. Jacob was crushed.
“Don’t be mad, babe,” she said. “I hear the disappointment in your voice. This is not how I wanted things to be. I’ve been looking forward to seeing you all week. I even booked dinner reservations for Saturday night-just the two of us,” she said in a sincere voice. “Jacob, I know this looks bad canceling last minute. But, you have to believe me when I say I want to see you. I mean, you’re the first guy I let my guard down with since Charlie’s father left me. I didn’t think a guy like you existed. I don’t want this to change things between us, and I don’t want you to think that you’re not important; it’s just Charlie… Hey—I am so sorry but I gotta go. Charlie’s calling me. I’ll call you back tonight if it’s not too late or text you tomorrow and let you know how he’s doing. I am so sorry, sweetie!”
She ended the call before he could reply. Typical. Charlie was her first priority, and it didn’t look like that was going to change anytime soon. Alicia definitely did not want to hear what he had to say. He was beyond disappointed; he had taken the next day off and everything, which wasn’t easy considering the way the trial was heating up. Jacob paced from the kitchen to the dining area in his condo and poured himself a drink. He grabbed the remote and started flipping channels.
“…At least four victims, with possibly more, according to FBI communications director, April Danvers. All victims have been young women in their late 20s or early 30s, with similar features, weight, and height. Each has been found on a beach or sandy area in remote locations, strangled and fully clothed. Danvers refused to answer questions about whether victims had been raped, but an anonymous source close to the case said that only one of the young women had been sexually active in the hours prior to her death, and it appeared to be consensual…”
