The Profilers

by Suzanne Steele

  Herb’s voice broke through whatever private moment they were having. “Those marks are consistent with a taser.”

  “Perhaps it’s his way to subdue the victim until he can finish her off.” Agent Turner murmured as if he were talking to himself.

  “Yes, that’s something I’ve noticed about our guy. He doesn’t waste any time playing with the victims. There isn’t any evidence of sexual trauma. He doesn’t keep them, just kills them right away.”

  “Yeah, it’s like he’s already passed judgment on them,” Rene noted.

  “That’s what I think too,” the coroner said, taking a second to look up at her as he spoke. “He’s watched these girls and he’s already decided they aren’t going to accept help. He’s persecuting them for their sin of not speaking out against their abusers.”

  “Hey, maybe you should be a profiler,” Rene teased.

  “No, I do better getting justice for those with no voice.”

  “Yes, and this unsub is going out of his way to let us know these victims no longer have a voice—duct tape and all.”

  Chapter Eight

  “Where are you taking me?” Rene asked her partner as he drove through an unfamiliar residential area.

  “We’re headed to my place so you can set up a profile on that site the librarian said our first victim was using.”

  “Oh, so Mr. All Business wants to show me his home, huh?”

  “My computer is top of the line. I have a whole room set up with three monitors and capabilities we don’t have access to at work.”

  “So I get to play the victim which, I can assure you, I’ll never be.”

  “You’re a Mistress aren’t you, Rene?”

  “Yeah, Turner, I am and I’m damn good at what I do. I don’t know how far into the scene you are but it’s evident to me that you like kink. One thing you need to know about me is that I may be your employee at work, but off hours, it’s open season.”

  Agent Turner chuckled, “I guess I’m safe then because we stay on the clock.” When he looked and saw the serious look on her face, he knew she wasn’t playing. The only question was, why did her stern demeanor turn him on?

  “Damn, Turner, do you come from money or what?” Rene questioned as they pulled up to his mansion.

  Agent Turner waited to answer until he had keyed in the code to access the gate.

  “Yes I do, but I would rather people at work not know about my personal life.”

  “Well, your secret is safe with me.”

  She took some time to study her surroundings. It would tell her what she wanted to know about the man she had every intention of making her sub.

  They pulled into the four-car garage and made their way into the commercial kitchen. She waited until he locked the door and turned towards her before her slap connected with his cheek.

  “This shit of you walking in front of me and treating me like some inconvenience stops today. I’m an equal partner, Turner, and don’t you fucking forget it. If you make the mistake of doing so again you’ll be feeling the sting of my crop on that sweet, little ass of yours.”

  He rubbed his face, shocked by her sudden change in character.

  “I’m sorry… I meant no disrespect.”

  “Don’t let it happen again.” She wound her hand around the back of his neck, pulling him towards her and crashing her lips down on his. Her tongue explored the inside of his mouth with expertise and she noted that he was kissing her back with just as much enthusiasm. Regardless of how professional he wanted to keep things at work, Rene was demanding his submission behind closed doors. She tugged at a handful of hair at the nape of his neck.

  “Now would be a great time for you to say, Yes Mistress.”

  He lowered his eyes, “Yes Mistress.”

  Her manicured hand gently stroked over his cheek, “Good boy, because the last thing you want to do is get on my bad side.”

  “I believe you,” was all he said as he took her hand and led her up one side of his double staircase.

  Rene looked around the massive master bedroom. It was stunning and unlike anything she would have ever guessed her partner would have. The large, king size, four-poster bed barely filled the large room. She found herself analyzing the ease with which she could tie him to its posts. He had decorated in light colored furniture and there was an elegant, crisp, clean look to the room. A fireplace dominated one wall and a large, antique wardrobe covered the other. She followed as he made his way into an office that was done in dark woods and a masculine burgundy color. He had definitely been telling the truth when he said he had a top of the line computer system. The latest up to date components sat on a huge mahogany desk with three different screens, all of which were currently showing feeds from various security cameras positioned around the 4.5 acre estate in his Indian Hills subdivision.

  “This is stunning, David, absolutely stunning.”

  “I don’t let most people know that my parents left me money; it keeps me safe from the gold diggers.”

  “I understand… no one wants to be used,” she waggled her eyebrows teasingly, “unless it’s sexually.”

  “I’d love for you to use me sexually, Mistress.”

  She eyed him as she unbuckled her belt and let her pants drop before she sat in one of the large office chairs behind his desk. She watched as he bent down in front of her. “I bought you a matching chair the first day I met you.” He nodded towards the other leather chair on wheels.

  She toed off her shoes, kicked her pants off the rest of the way, and propped one of her feet up on his shoulder to give him access to her moist opening. “Show me how you want to be used, boy.”

  She groaned as his tongue went to work swirling over her engorged clit. “Look up at me, David, and pull your cock out. Oh yes, you have a lovely cock. I’m looking forward to using that big cock of yours for my pleasure. Now, show me how you masturbate when you fantasize about your Mistress. Yes, you have a gorgeous cock, boy. It’s nice and thick, a good length.”

  His lapping at her opening became more urgent as she talked dirty to him. “Finger fuck me, boy, and you keep licking while you pull on that cock of yours. That’s it. Look at your Mistress while she comes all over that sweet, little face of yours.” He watched as her eyes rolled back in her head and she groaned, commanding him to come with her. It was already evident to her that this little partnership was going to work out quite nicely.

  Chapter Nine

  It was the perfect hunting ground for an online predator. The women who came there were not only vulnerable, they were open about discussing their issues because they had the anonymity of hiding behind a computer screen.

  It had taken the killer a little bit of research and befriending someone who could send an invite, but it hadn’t been too hard. It was well worth it. It was despicable how these women would get online and whine about how they were mistreated, yet when they were offered a way out of their situation, they wouldn’t take it.

  In the killer’s eyes, they were getting what they deserved; it was the ultimate answer to their problem. They whined and whined, so brave in their little chat room, but didn’t have the guts to pursue what they really wanted in life so the killer gave it to them—a way out.

  If they couldn’t be bold enough to leave their abusers, then the killer had no problem providing them a way out of their hell on earth. It was better to make resources available to women who were serious about wanting to get out of their abusive relationships by getting rid of these parasites. These women, who needlessly waste time and resources that could be used on someone worthy, who know all the while that they’ll never leave, don’t deserve anyone’s sympathy. Volunteers are kind enough to give up their precious time and money in an attempt to help them and these women selfishly squander those opportunities. Yes, as far as the killer was concerned, they were getting just what they deserved.

  Chapter Ten

  Agent Turner eyed his partner as she sat, looking beautiful in one of his button-up
dress shirts with the sleeves rolled up and nothing but a pair of panties beneath it. Her legs were crossed and she was seated at the computer in the office chair he had purchased with her in mind. He couldn’t deny it any longer. Though he had fought it and tried to ignore it, he had known from the moment they first met that he wanted her. It didn’t matter if she was his partner; he was smitten. Their sexual attraction to each other was almost a tangible thing and from the day she had grabbed his cock in the car and threatened him, he had known she had just what he craved. Her fiery redheaded nature had drawn him in and her sexuality only sealed the deal.

  “We’ve got problems. I can’t get in this chat room without an invite and a password.”

  “I’ve got a connection.”

  “Who?” Rene questioned, curious about who he knew that had ties to a predominately female chat room.

  “An ER doctor, Eric Ozment, relocated here to Louisville from New York. He came here after he rescued a woman from her pimp. I guess he thought it would give them a clean slate to start over together, not to mention keep her safe from her past.”

  He winked as he waited on the phone; he had already placed the call.

  “Eric? It’s Agent Turner. We’re doing some undercover work and I need access to that chat room you set up so my partner can set up a profile.”

  “A partner, huh? I might be interested in dating a FBI agent if I wasn’t already head over heels in love with Selena.” Turner knew Eric could care less about any other woman than the one he had rescued. The doc was just fishing to see if he had finally gotten a steady woman.

  “You are not dating my partner.”

  “Are you dating her?”

  “Off the record… yes, I am dating her.”

  He looked at Rene as he spoke, “And I’m jealous by nature, Doc, so back off.” David wrote down the information the doctor relayed over the phone as he stared at Rene. He simply couldn’t get enough of her. The last thing Agent David Turner said before he got off the phone was, “Hey Doc, keep this quiet. We want to catch this guy and we want to catch him off guard.”

  “Will do, and bring that pretty partner of yours by the hospital to meet me,” Dr. Ozment answered, obviously still intent on ragging him.

  He winked at Rene, “I’m not bringing her to meet you; you’ve got a woman. Goodbye, Doc.” He gave him no time to respond. He just chuckled as he hung up his phone.

  “Rene, bring some clothes over here. That way you can come and go at will.” His look was one of earnest expectation.

  “I’m not moving in but I’ll consider bringing a few changes of clothes.”

  David attempted to keep the giddiness he felt from showing in his face but when she rubbed her hand over his head, tousling his hair, he couldn’t hide it any longer. She made him feel an emotion he hadn’t felt in a very long time. He was happy. She made him happy.

  “Stop staring and get me in this chat room, David.”

  Chapter Eleven

  The chat room was busy tonight as the killer maneuvered through the different conversations, blending in with the abused victims and the volunteers who frequented it.

  Everything appeared to be commonplace until a new member was noted. Huh, what an odd avatar—a cuckoo with the profile name, endangered.

  The killer’s fingers flew over the keyboard as a search was done to see if that really was the case with that breed of fowl. Sure enough, the yellow-billed cuckoo came up as being an endangered species.

  Next to do was strike up a conversation with the new member.

  “Hello, you’re new here? That’s an interesting profile name and avatar you have.”

  “Yes, I do quite a bit of philanthropy work with endangered birds.”

  “What is your intrigue with them?”

  “I guess the fact they are categorized in families and though they migrate to Africa nine months out of the year, they don’t sing while there. That’s kind of how I feel sometimes—like I have a song in me but can’t sing because of my circumstances.”

  “I think anything able to skirt the dangers of being extinct is worthy of being an avatar on a site like this.”

  “Yes, I’m so glad to have found this site. To be honest, I am interested in the underground group who helps women escape abuse.”

  “That is usually saved for women wed to high profile men. Is your husband in a powerful position?”

  “My husband is in a very high profile job; he’s a cop. You know how it is. They have each other’s backs and access to high security information. I’ve tried to get away but because he is a police officer, no one will help me.”

  “Do you have children?”

  “No, I snuck out and got a birth control shot. The thought of a child being forced to witness my abuse horrifies me.”

  “You sound like you’re sincere about wanting to escape. I may be able to help you… permanently.”

  “Are you suggesting what I think you’re suggesting?”

  “In time, I’ll reveal my motives. It’s necessary to establish trust first.”

  “Yes, trust is very important when you are talking about permanently taking care of a predator.”

  “We’ll talk again soon.”

  “Yes, we most certainly will.”

  “What the fuck? Did you see that shit? The Librarian… Do you think that’s the same librarian we questioned, David?”

  “Wow, now that would be a shocker, girl. I never would have suspected the plain librarian we met.”

  “You know what they say, David. It’s always the quiet ones. Damn, she met me too so I can’t go undercover to question her and see if she is the unsub we’re looking for.”

  “If it’s her, that would explain the taser mark and suffocating them immediately. She has to work quickly because of her size. It also explains the fact that there is no sexual trauma. Let’s do this…” David wheeled his chair over to a different keyboard and monitor, leaving Rene access to the one she was on. He continued, “Let’s do a background check on the librarian. If she’s a victim of abuse, I’d be willing to say that we may be on our way to closing this case.”

  His fingers flew over the keyboard typing her name into the FBI database that would reveal extensive details about the woman no one would’ve suspected of being a killer.

  “Elaine Thompson. Okay, she moved from Florida after her husband died from, get this…” He started reading from a newspaper article that had popped up in his search.

  Henry Thompson, the man responsible for inventing the app that enabled business people to organize their notes, contacts, and spreadsheets, was found bound and gagged with a plastic bag over his head in a seedy motel room. It is believed that he was a willing participant in what is known in the kink community as breath play with a local prostitute. His death is believed to be an accident and the person responsible has not been found as of yet. Henry Thompson had no children but is survived by his wife.

  “Oh David, that’s a dead giveaway. Do you think she’s copying the killing or do you think she killed him?”

  “I think she is copying the suffocation. It doesn’t explain why she’s so angry with abuse victims though. Maybe there’s something else in her past we’re missing.”

  “Well, right now we’re faced with the problem of finding someone she doesn’t know to befriend her. I can keep my cover online but I can’t meet with her because she has seen me.”

  “We’re going to have to use an informant, Rene.”

  “Or better yet, we’ll catch her in the act.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Lisa huddled on the kitchen floor, sobbing as she listened to the front door slam. The relief of knowing he was gone would be short lived. The cycle had once again started. It always began with a blowup over a trivial offense that gave her abuser an excuse to beat her senseless.

  Leaving would do no good and killing him would put her in danger of going to prison, leaving her child motherless. It was time for her to do what she had been avoiding for years.
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br />   She peeled her aching body up off the kitchen floor and called her neighbor to come and watch her son. If she made her way downtown now, she could get there before the library closed and her bruises were too noticeable to cause her embarrassment.

  She quickly went into the bathroom and began the cover up job she was all too familiar with, applying layer after layer of make-up to her tender skin. She needed to get out of here before he came back and made it impossible to leave. She had years to do what she was getting ready to do but desperate times called for desperate measures.

  If she didn’t do what she had in mind, he was going to kill her. Even if he didn’t do it on purpose, he would by accident in a blind rage. It had been different before she had her son. It had been easier to hide the shame and embarrassment of being an abused spouse but with each passing day, her son was getting older and would soon realize what his daddy was doing.

  The thought of raising a boy who would grow up thinking that this abuse was the normal way for a family to function was reprehensible. That she had allowed herself to be beaten was bad enough, but putting her implied seal of approval on his abusive behavior with her continued silence was unthinkable.

  She greeted the babysitter, gave her last minute instructions for the baby, and quickly headed to her car. Even if he did catch her leaving, there was one place he never forbade her to go—the library.

  Elaine made her way around the library, replacing books to their rightful shelves and whistling while she worked. She was very pleased to have found a new member in the chat room who seemed as if she was serious about escaping her abuser.

  It was easy to get discouraged with the volunteer work she did when over and over she witnessed their inability to leave the men who beat them.

  The abuse they suffered went far beyond the cuts and bruises that would heal over time; it burrowed into their psyches and stained their souls. She knew firsthand how deeply it affected a person. She still suffered from the psychological trauma of having to give her daughter up for adoption against her will.