Love Me Tender (Closed)

Anna sat waiting and quietly watching the comings and goings around the small town police station with some interest. This job was a chance to finally make a name for her self, if she could solve it or aid in solving it anyway. Still working on her doctorate as well as doing all the 'shit jobs' handed her way, just trying to etch out a small niche for her own name in the bureau. It was worse than digging a grave with your bare hands some days.

It shouldn't be too hard to profile this killer. Granted, this case was a little odd, but she had faith in her abilities as well as the local law enforcement's desire to squash this one down before it grew ugly. It wasn't so long ago, maybe a few of the elderly remembered the case and maybe not.. a man in the next county had been serialisticly slaying every high school prom queen he could locate from one small school. No one knew why still to this day, but no one wanted another one of those on their hands.

It was a little strange that there were no female officers anywhere in sight, but she tended to notice odd things for no reason. Maybe it came with the job? She also noticed that although the detective wasn't really busy, she had been purposely kept waiting for a long time now. She'd glance at her watch, but she didn't want to give anyone watching the satisfaction of knowing they were wearing on her nerves. Perhaps it was just too busy to notice a stranger?

"Miss Tate?" Her eyes jerked around to look at a young deputy calling her name.
"Sorry about the delay Ma'am, been a sight busy today. The detective will be right out. Can I get you something to drink?"

"No, thank you." her smile was as friendly as she could be given the circumstances. The case file was pinned between her crossed legs and her clenched hands, inside the details of the case that seemed to keep her awake these days more so than any other case. It wasn't because it was gruesome or insanely different, but because of how odd all the pieces were. Perhaps the detective would have more insight since faxing it over last week?

Travis walked up to her with nothing more than a navy blue shirt and faded jeans that were only a bit too tight on him, but looked rather damned good. He had that look of a model, maybe an actor, one of those pretty boys who didn't need talent to make it in hollywood. His hair was damn near bleach blonde, cut short and spiky right at the top, while his eyes were an impossible blue, anyone could get lost in them for hours.

"Anna, the profiler," He smiled, shaking her hand and helping her up to her feet, "I am so glad you could make it. Do you know I've been asking for a profiler to come down here for weeks on this case, and no one gave me the time of day."

He didn't look young enough for a detective's badge, he hardly looked young enough to be wearing a uniform, not that he wore one. Although, Anna looked the type herself that was a little young for what they were up against.

He led her to the back, not that there was a lot to lead through. The front office held a few desks and a main office for the sheriff, and the back only had one conference room and the three unoccupied jail cells. This was a very small, cramped, baby version of a real police station.

Inside the conference room there was a single pin up board with several of the victim's pictures, as well as locations, any anything significant written down.

"You have my full cooperation, Anna," He said, showing it to her. It was not much, only the things he had faxed to her, put up in some order on a board. He sat down in one of the two chairs here in the office, shaking his head.

"I wish we were a little better equipped here, but we're just a small town, you see. You're a profiler though. So, you must already know things about this killer right? What do you know, so far?"

The walls were solid rock. It was a dark rock, obsidian in its source, almost made from pure metal. The only entrance out of the room, this hollowed out slab from the rocks itself, was a line of steel bars, completing the cage. It was cruel, all harsh corners and barbaric in its dominance.

Inside, the room felt better. The bed itself was soft, down covers and pillows made it the best sleep anyone has ever had. There were dolls on top of a dresser, filled with girl's clothes. Sun dresses and skirts, low cut blouses, underwear, lingerie.

Outside each drawer is a list of everything in that drawer, and instructions on what to wear each day. It is supposed to be worn.

There is a corner built up for a shower and bathroom. There is no curtain, but with a grate in the floor it works just as any other. The water coming in is hot, and tastes good. This is well water, deep in the mountain. Cool and delicious to the lips. People pay good price to get this water.

Next to the facet are instructions of how to bathe, and what to clean each day.

There is a television. It isn't hooked up to cable, but it does have a dvd player, and movies come on from time to time. Mostly romance, heartbreaking love stories and fate meant to be. There is nothing as beautiful as two people sharing so much together.

He comes in, opening the barred door. He wears a good mask today, it is green with a slick smile. Not happy, no, but perhaps something just as fun. Sly, or maybe lustful. The eyes are big, and that smile shows more than it is letting on.

He brings food. He sets it down, next to her lying in the bed. He presses play for them. A movie comes on, lovers in each others arms, two fates aligned, betwixt the twain.

He sits next to her, rousing her awake with small kisses along her shoulder, his hands becoming more bold as they run down her body. He wishes to see her eyelids flutter awake, to recognize him for a moment, that moment of realization where she is, and who she is with, and then that thought of love.

Her undeniable love.

On the wall, scatched into the dark hard walls of the prison are three simple rules.

Do not escape.

End every phrase with the word SIR.

Obey every command.

His kisses were soft, like a butterfly's wings fluttering against her creamy skin. He wished her to be awake, so she could eat breakfast and they make love as the movie drones on behind them.

What a wonderful day to wake up to his lover, "How I have missed you, my sweet little darling."

Amanda awoke from a deep fret full sleep to the wonderful caresses of a lovers touch, the soft lips, and warm breath of a man to desired her.

For a moment she almost forgot, forgot that is was not one of her fantasies of Detective Travis but a real man who had kidnapped and held her prisoner.

Slowly she opened her eyes as a sigh escaped her lips, her body already aroused by her dreams was responding to his caresses in ways that were shameful and degrading.

Once again she wondered how she could feel this passion, this effection for one who used body and held her captive against her will.

At first she had struggled, fought, and pleaded to be released but then she learned the consquences. There was no release he told, only the release of deaths cold touch.

So here Amanda was once again betrayed by her body as it arched to meet his soft warm touch, her skin slick with moisture at the thoughts of what was to come. Her secret folds swelling at the thought of him wrappign himself deep within her welcoming passage.

Rolling over to face him as her eyes flutter completely open and she takes in the mask, one of lust or was it something more calculated, more sly. She did not know all Amanda knew was that she was once again lost in those eyes, those impassable blue eyes that had captivated her soul the very first time he took her.

Smiling weakly, and blinking slowly, Amanda looked at him her jade green eyes showing her conflicting emotions and tormented sleep.

"Good morning, sir"

The mask had a hole for the mouth, and two slits for the eyes, but otherwise covered his entire face. It was blocked off, his identity, his truth lying hidden behind it, nothing but the emotion showing on the mask was truly him. Nothing else mattered.

"Good morning sweet one," He purred, helping those simply sheets from her body. He felt happy that she had worn what he asked her to wear to bed. A simple teddy, see thru, with white cotton panties. His fingers ran along her thigh, touching up against those white cotton panties, moaning softly through the mask.

"I hope you slept well. It is time to get up, breakfast and then time with me before you shower and start your morning."

There were rituals now. She had been with him long enough to know without him reminding her. He expected it to be done, and it would be. Showering with soap, shampoo, flavored salts to make sure she was clean and ready for him. Brush the teeth, the hair, an entire ritual on the single sink in the room. There was no razor to shave, but he brought it with him each day.

The razor is the one piece he did not keep in the entire day, that and the utensils.

Breakfast was eggs and waffles, with a blueberry syrup.

"Your favorite," He said, before letting a single finger slip beneath those panties, and find her clit, "Why don't you eat, sweet pet?"

His finger found its way inside of her, thick, invading, it pressed against her smooth pussy walls, wanting to find that heated core, her sweet moisture running thickly down his hand and soiling those white cotton panties.

Lying there in her teddy and conton panties she knew it wa expected of her to sit and eat her food, no matter what he did to her body, no matter how she wished to respond.

"thank you sir"

She said quietly as she slowly eat her breakfast savouring every last bite as if it was the purest chocolate known to man.

She was stalling and she knew it but what else could she do, he was reaking havic between her legs as his finger invaded her, and her juices flowed out to meet him.

She knew the rules no actions were taken without expressed permission, his mood was not to be taken for granted it could change in the blink of an eye.

Never move, never touch, never speak without first being told to.

Amanda bit her lip, to keep from moaning, her moist slit telling him how easily her body betrayed her mind, how quickly he could draw from her the response her craved.

Finishing her last bite she almost moaned as her fork slid out from between her lips. Placing the plate to the side, Amanda said 'Thank was wonderful, sir"

Smiling at him shyly preying her would stop but hoping with every fiber of her being he would not she just laid there, his finger pobing her pussy, her clit throbbing for attention.

He wondered what she had thought was wonderful. The breakfast, or his constant teasing of her body. Either way, she had grown heated with his simple fingers, touching and running along the sweet cunt. It dripped with her desire, sweet juices tainting those white cotton panties.

"You must take a shower and get dressed, but we can make a small exception," He said, leaning over her body, his lips hot against her neck, kissing, sucking sweet flesh into his mouth to taste. He let his tongue run over her ear, pausing as his words whispered heavy to her.

"Take off those panties, get up on your knees. I want you to present yourself to me. Let me fuck you good and hard from behind, my sweet pet."

Amanda did not waste time in doing as requested, he did not like to kept waiting. Hooking her fingers under the sides of her white cotton panties she slid them over her rounded hips, down her thigh, over her knees, past her calves and finally of her feet. Placing them neatly on the chair.

Amanda got on her knees and faced away from him. Putting her hands on the edge of the bed she gripped the matress. Arching her back, lowwering her head, she proudly displayed her curvasious ass and glisening pussy to him.

Taking a deep breath she waited for waht was to come next. She had in many ways in many moods, but he had never before this day deviated from the schedule. She vaguely wondered what had brought about this change.

He took out his cock, red and throbbing, in desperate need of release. He had to line himself up with her, moving behind her, grabbing her hips and pushing her back right where he wanted her.

His cock touched against her sex. It was electric, he felt himself twinge because of her wet glistening pussy. She was growing more complacent, she did not argue, she did not complain. By how wonderful her pussy was dripping right now, he would even go so far as to say she was beginning to enjoy it.

"I love you," He said, as he rammed his cock inside of her. Their bodies at once crashing together. His cock felt her warm velvet walls inside, gripping and clamping on him, more than wet, more than ready to take him deep into her. Her body reacted as well, he gripped it, pushing her back onto him, forcing his cock deeper and deeper inside of her.

His body bent down to hers, letting her feel him as he rutted down behind her. His stomach against her back, their skin touching, moving back and forth against each other.

"Such a good girl. Spreading your legs for me. That is right... take it, take it you wonderful little slut. Take it."

Anna Tate

This must be the Detective, although his name escaped her for a brief moment upon seeing him. She quickly shook it off. She wasn't a shallow person, but she had a hard time grasping the fact that Detective Brady looked more like a damned movie star than a detective.

She straightened ramrod straight and pasted a professional smile on her face. "Sorry for the delay." They shook hands briefly before she fell into step behind him. Following quietly and quickly, she did her best to get her mind situated before the work began.

Her boss had dismissed this case to go after some religious cult leader hiding out in Washington state they'd been after for years. No one seemed to think this case was FBI worthy, even give the case facts. Unsure if telling the detective that would be insulting or not, she kept quiet.

"I am afraid that this case was shoved into my hands yesterday, and I haven't had much time with him yet." Her voice was soft, distracted as she studied the pictured girls. Each had nothing in common up front, race and social standings didn't hinder his choice of women. He did work within an age bracket however, that was something helpful.

She blocked the office noise out and ignored Brady somewhat as she studied the detective's wall of 'events known'. Her mind working over the small facts, the little things and wishing she had more to go with.

"It seems a bit random," He said, after the long pregnant pause in the room. He had moved behind her, staring up at the board. She must not have noticed him moving at all, because his voice was so close, almost a whisper in her ear. He smiled, moving back from his position.

"I thought it was random. I know most serial killers have an idenfifiable M.O. They go after certain girls and only do certain things, like a ritual."

He reached down, picking up a small paperback book, To Catch a Killer. It was some F.B.I. regulatory, basically a Serial Killer for Dummies handbook. Travis had several notes in it, and he read out a passage about identifying.

"These bodies were disposed of several different ways, and none of them are the same. This girl was just out of college, wanting to be a dental assistant. The one here was a waittress, barely 19, trying to take care of her sick mother."

He realized he was rambling though. He apoligized, going to fix himself some coffee. She didn't need him rattling on about the facts of the case. She'd gotten them herself, and she was looking over them just now.

"We could go out?" He asked, staring up from his cup, "There's a diner down the road. Pretty good creme pie. My treat, hardly anyone's there this time of night. It'd be you and me, we could discuss the details of the case."

Anna Tate

Weary to the bone, she kept reading the time-line of events. She hadn't noticed Travis move up behind her, but she felt his presence there as soon as he was in range.

How many nights had this wall kept him awake? Guessing and wondering, searching for a single clue to bring the bastard to justice? She was too new, people laughed at her idealistic nature, but it didn't stop her from giving her all to every victim.

She listened to what he said, each word he spoke, nodding quietly as he listed off some of the facts. Ignoring his appology, she flashed a smile as she replied, "Think nothing of it, I know how these things can be." He had done nothing wrong, she welcomed the notion of having someone to bounce her thoughts off of. As long as he didn't turn into some asshole, she'd welcome all assistance.

Pride had no place here, not when it could save a life.

"Jesus, I sound like a fucking priest." Shaking it off, she hadn't heard him leave but his voice did make her jump a little as he spoke up again.

"We could go out?" He asked, staring up from his cup, "There's a diner down the road. Pretty good creme pie. My treat, hardly anyone's there this time of night. It'd be you and me, we could discuss the details of the case."

She must've looked like a complete idiot as she stood there staring at him for several long moments, blankly. "Oh.. OH! Sorry, random thoughts. Yeah, that would be.." Her face blushed a little for sounding so stupid, "Great." She could make excuses and blame it on travel but decided it didn't matter. She had to be on her "A game" if she was going to be of use here.

"I find this case very... interesting. This one seems to be next to impossible to solve, doesn't it?" She stopped and grabbed her filed and coat, prepared to follow Detective Brady outside.

"Doesn't it though?" He mused, opening the door for her, both out to the parking lot and then to his own car. It was an early 90's model that had seen better days, but still provided itself as more than useful. He closed the door for her, and eased himself into the driver's seat.

"I think it just needs one fact to crack it though. One thing to tie all the girls together. When we find out what that one thing is, the case will split wide open."

He began telling her his theory, which was not his theory at all. It was Detective John Cameron's theory, an FBI profiler of over twenty years experience. Cameron wrote extensively on serial killers and their patterns. To find it meant finding a weakness.

"But this doesn't fit Cameron's work at all. I don't quite understand that. I hoped you in the FBI would.... actually, I was hoping Cameron himself might come out. Seeing as how interesting a case this might be. But, you look like a protege, I sure am glad of your help."

He gave her a wink as they stopped off at the diner. He was right, not a soul there that night. It stood nestled in next to a hotel, and an old library that seemed dark and gloomy.

Once more, Brady opened the door for her, helping her inside. A young waitress, barely out of high school was reading some trashy paperback, and bounced over to them with menus as soon as they came in.

"You've been awful quiet, you know? I'm eager to find out what you think of all this... and more importantly pick your brain about theories. I'm sure you already got a profile and everything, don't you?"

Anna Tate

She eyed the menu as she slid in across from Detective Brady, "Can I get an iced tea. Sugar and lemon. Also a double cheeseburger, fries and extra pickles. Thanks." she handed it back without a thought, not caring if her ordering so quickly caused any questions or not. She was hungry and airline food always tasted like shoe leather.

Finally resolved enough in herself and confidant that she wouldn't make an idiot of herself, she looked up and directly at the Detective. No somersaults happened inside her stomach and she didn't feel tense in the slightest, a good sign. He probably guessed her discomfort from the start, or maybe not? Not many men were that aware of women, not that she was a male-bashing-sexist. Contrary, she adored men.. A little too much. Why she was always single after three months of dating.

But she wasn't there on a date and this wasn't her life. This was work, which meant no play time. She shouldn't even be thinking about it in this much detail, considering there was a killer out there stalking the women of this county.

Was she in danger by being here? She didn't think so, especially working with the police department. One never knew, but she wouldn't think about that.

She waited until detective Brady was finished with the waitress before she spoke up. "This is where Miss Williams worked, isn't it?" She watched him, knowing this had to be the place and confirmed when he nodded his head.

"I see signs here of a man that doesn't really hate women, but he does have a control issue. all his victims are well cared for, bathed and fed regularly. No signs of abuse, nor any beatings. He does engage in sexual relations with his victims, but there is no trace evidence anywhere. Its meticulously taken care of.. " Her eyes brightened a little, she felt that familiar rush go through her as a small shiver passed over her body. "He, by all accounts here, a brilliant human being." She couldn't help the slight awe in her tone. "Of course there has to be something wrong with him, he is kidnapping women and killing them. Finding it however, is going to be a little more of a challenge."

"Almost all men have some soft of control issue, even women these days. That won't make him stick out above the rest. I don't believe we're looking for a man with a violent past as a child but perhaps someone who may have lost their mother early in life?" She fell quiet as the waitress returned with her tea.

Brady nodded, agreeing with her as she stated each item. He had gotten himself a glass of water, sipping from it and smiling at the young bouncy waitress. The namecard said Tina, and she looked like a Tina. Young, brown hair, hazel eyes, perky breasts that seemed to defy gravity. Definitely a Tina.

In another town, another county she could make a decent living as a stripper, dancer, or even adult actress. They didn't have any of that here, so she was just a waitress, earning up money until she could go somewhere and be somebody.

"You're really smart," He said, "I didn't even think of that. Cameron's book said that most serial killers started as kids, mutilating animals or even their classmates. Cameron said they had histories of abuse and... mother issues?"

It was a very interesting idea. He took out his little notebook, writing it down, "See, I never would have gotten that. I'm already glad you're on the case."

He smiled, his hand coming over to hers, giving it a squeeze as he finished the notes, "So, then we can assume this has something to do with a mother issue? Is he replacing his mother? Sexually? Some sort of Oedipus Rex complex our guy is trying to figure out?"

Anna Tate

"No, I don't believe so. It just helped shape him into who he is inside." She paused to sip her tea and study his worn notebook of notes. Her eyes glazed a little, her mind whipping up a fondu of facts inside her head.

"He isn't looking for a mother, but he respects them, I would say he loves each one as well. But he doesn't like to be told no. Hence the kidnapping, drugged state of mind and body they're kept in. He respects them enough that they are kept healthy, cared for. So he doesn't hate these women. The only signs of abuse is the actual time of death, when they are killed." Random thoughts just kept swirling but she couldn't get her finger completely over this guy just yet.

"They're punished for something." She straightened up as her food arrived. Thanking the young women softly, she put her attention on her cheeseburger and toppings. Glancing up she caught him looking at her closely. "There isn't much in common with these slayings but two things. Their hair is cut off.. Punishment. And they're always is barbedwire found on each victim." She flashed a small smile, her attention then going to the ketchup.

His pencil was going like mad across the paper. Mother, love link? barbed wire, hair cut off. They had gotten farther in ten minutes than the entire case since it had been opened.

"Yes, the issue of control, his own environment. It would make sense, he's using these girls to satisfy some own version of his dominance, and then once he's done with them, he gets rid of them."

Except, that was where the problem came in. Most serial killers killed in the same way, almost down to the very insignificant details. Same gun, same spot on the body, disposed of the same way. The fact that the three girls were killed three different ways just shows something interesting.

Different.

This serial killer is much much different.

"Why dispose of the bodies three different ways, yet using the same material, like the barbed wire though? If he wants to establish a pattern, he should do so. Why make them so contrasting?"

He only got a fruit salad himself. It was a bowl of grapes, melon, strawberries, and cantaloupe. He popped a piece of fruit into his mouth, before stealing a few of her fries.

Anna Tate

The same question he asked her, she had been pondering herself since she read the three files. Many things came to mind but none seemed to really stick until late yesterday when she was watching some low budget porn on cable.

"To make it more personal." She took a bite then, chewing her cheeseburger thoughtfully. She made no comment about him pilfering fries from her plate, it was almost comical. Besides, what grown man would eat a mere bowl of fruit? Surely he needed something with more substanence?

"Its just a hunch mostly, I've never come across a case like this, but I seen a similiar MO on a cheap movie the other night. And it wasn't to throw the police off and it wasn't to try and be nonpredictable. The killer did it differently in each case, to make it more personal to the victim. For instance, the hung girl? She was slowly killing herself with her drug addictions prior to being taken. When it came to an end, and prematurely so, he made her death symbolic to her. Maybe a fear? Maybe a statement. It's all speculation, but its what I feel these random ways of killing means." She stopped talking then, realizing she was speaking rather heatedly.

She flushed a little, her eyes widening slightly as she realized just how moved she had become over the facts of this case. It was the wrong time, place and setting to get excited over a killer's actions. But she couldn't help it in some ways, brains were sexy to her. A mind like this, would make interesting reading material. A whole new ball game for a profiler, and probably most cops as well.

"Sounds like you enjoy your work," He said, eyes wide, as he stolle more frieds off of her plate. She had talked like some people around her spoke of baseball teams, or classic cars. He'd never heard it being spoken about some serial killer though.

The same fantastical tone was in Cameron's book, the excitement. But, Brady thought he heard a bit more than excitement in her voice.

"I have to agree with you. It makes sense. The parts of the death are similiar, the barbed wire, cutting away their beautiful to make them ugly. And yet, their deaths are all individual, almost individual torture for each of them. Perhaps that can clue us into why he decided to kill them."

There seemed no set time for death. They had each disappeared months before turning up dead, except for this last girl. He wanted to keep them indefinitely and then something happened.

"I am so glad they brought you down here for the case. This would have taken me months, if at all to understand. It's like... you're in his mind, you know? Like you see the crimes how he sees them. You know the passion inside of him, and you can feel it yourself..."

Anna Tate

She studied him for a long moment, her food forgotten. Did she come off as crazy to him? She was always an odd-ball, more into books than dating. Too smart for her own good at times and ignorant at other aspects. Perhaps it was because this was her first real case to study?

"Thank you, I think." She smiled to hide her embarassment. "It is the training. We're taught to get inside people's minds, and I could be completely wrong as I haven't had a chance to study where they were found or where they were taken from. I haven't had a chance to do more than read a few reports and look over pictures. There's more to this than what I've assumed, but that's what I am here for." She ended it with a brighter note, hoping that she really could be some help in Detective Brady's case.

"In the end, It's only ideas I give to you on where you might look. You know the area, the people and it's past. I can only give options or venues you might not have noticed until a much later time or a few more deaths to conclude." Was she coming off as a know-it-all?

"Its a little fascinating, I have never come across a case where a kidnapper or killer has held onto one person, let alone several for this long. One woman was missing well over a year before she turned up. Another eight months and now, one at a week? How many more are there and where are they being held? So many questions, and definitely not enough time."

"Well, that is why you're here, "He said, reaching across to touch her arm, "I respect you and your opinion. I know you're going to bring something invaluable to the case."

He finished up his little fruit bowl, and stole the last bit of fries from her own plate before getting the check. He didn't even bother to ask her as he stood up.

"You know, there's a bar just across the street. I would enjoy buying you a drink. I'd love to get to know you better. I think it would be good to unwind for the night. You must have had a long day. Be good to relax and finally let your hair done."

He was putting on his coat.

"Whatever you fancy. You don't strike me as a Coors girl, but they got a nice bottle of wine over there, if you like. Not sure what kind of wine goes with cheese burger. Guess those Beverly Hills people might know."

He was offering his hand out to her, "What do you say, my treat?"

Anna Tate

"Wine huh?" She laughed, "You sure you aren't a profiler under that detective badge?" she thanked him for paying although it was hard to not protest what he had done. Granted this was a small town, not the city, her mother always told her real men came from the country. It still was odd to her, but what did she know of hospitality rules?

"One glass of wine wouldn't hurt, I guess." She did sigh then, the tension was melting off. She really did hate to fly. "I do believe that the motel I have a room at is also just around the corner, so it's not a long walk to where I need to go afterwards." She went out the door he held open and eyed the bar's wooden sign. Silly, but she hadn't really noticed any neon lights around the town. Simple life, not too bad if you liked the quiet.

It unhinged her a little, being used to loud noises and traffic at all hours. She wondered if she'd get any sleep out here?

"What time do you usually get in to work in the morning? I'd like to get started as soon as possible.. Maybe get a tour of the area? See the places the girls were found?" He again held the door to the bar open, again she thanked him quietly and ducked quickly inside.

"Most days I wander in around ten or so," He said, glancing over at the bartender. Aside from a few locals, he was the only one in the bar. It was past any happy hour, and the only people left were the ones who thought drinking was a career, not a pasttime.

A few nodded their hello's as Brady came inside.

He ordered beer for himself, and whatever wine they had for her. He got them a nice table away from anyone, bringing her drink over to her, and setting it down over a napking. It seemed appropriate to have a napkin under it, he didn't know why.

"We can start at eight though. There's not much to show you, mostly cause there's not much to the town. I can take you to anywhere important."

It had long since been worn and weathered, she'd find no new clues. But, it would get her a better feel for the victims, and the killer. He had read that in Cameron's book. She wanted to get under the skin of the killer.

"You know, I have a lot of respect for you. I don't think I could do what you do. Get inside the head of a killer? It seems like it would be painful... you know, I mean, psychologically? It's like Harley Quinn."

He smiled, when he thought of it, "She was the Joker's psychiatrist. You know, the Batman. Joker was that crazy guy. Anyway, when he was locked up, they gave him a psychiatrist, to try and make him sane again. Harley Quinn was the girl, and she went crazy studying him, and ended up being one of his new goons."

He was spouting off comic book lore as if this were somehow police procedure. He shrugged his shoulders as he drank from his beer, "Yeah, yeah, think what you want, but I'm seirous. I'm worried about you. I don't want you going crazy or anything because you're too in the mind of this killer. I mean, what if you fall in love with him?"

He said it with a shit eating grin on his face, but he was also half serious. He'd heard of profilers who took cases too seriously, making it become some weird tryst in and of itself. Sure as hell enough movies have been made about it. She looked like a cute girl, last thing he wanted was for anything to happen to her.

Anna Tate

"Alright, ten it is." Flashing the waitress a smile, she thanked Detective Brady again. The bar was homey of sorts, probably like the rest of the town. It looked lived in and well loved by the patrons. Warm and woodsy, not cold and steel ridden.


What would drive someone to kidnapping and murder in such a lovely small town as this? And why did he resort to murdering them when it was obvious he wished to keep them? Why did he? It kept teasing her mind, but she was far too tired to pick it up tonight.

"Fall in love with a killer?!" She gaped at him and then laughed. Sipping her wine, she shook her head, "No, that would never happen. I happen to like being alive and well. Third generation public servant here, I definitely will not be falling for Casanova." Her laughter died quickly, her demeanor changing as abruptly as it had when she laughed. It was no laughing matter, this man was sick. "I can't help but feel pain whenever I think about these cases. Those families that have lost loved ones to a total loon. The mother's and fathers, children and spouses who are left with a hole in their lives because of another human being deeming themselves judge, jury and executioner. Hell, half the time I am tracking down someone who murdered another over a damned word or mere look.. The world is going to shit, isn't it?"

Realizing how much she had rambled, she finished off the wine and stood. "I am sorry, it's jet lag or something. A good night's sleep is all I need." Filed and coat in hand, she turned towards Detective Brady, "Thank you Detective, for the meal and drink. Tomorrow? Ten a.m.?"

Brady nodded at that. He didn't think it would be as simple as some cartoon or comic book. She knew why she captured these people. They were cold blooded killers. Despite travelling in the enemy's tent, she knew which alliance she held close.

"Tomorrow, bright and early," He said, well, early enough for these parts, "I'll be outside in the parking lot. Take you wherever you need to go."

He stood up with her, polite manners and a means of escorting her, at least until they were outside. He stood beside his old police cruiser, and wished her a happy night, with lots of sleep.

"Here's my number," He said, writing it down on some napkin, "In case you need anything. Goodnight detective. Sweet dreams."

He tapped the hood of his car twice, and then drove off into the night. A trail of dust settled just after he left.