Page 57 of Snowman

"Or," she went on, "he could believe he's on a military mission."

So wrong.

"Maybe," she mused, her voice softer now, "he's an abused girl trying to avenge her past."

So fucking wrong.

"Or maybe," she said, changing her tone, "he doesn't fully understand what he's doing. He has a good face, a part that feels guilty, allows him to justify it, and a bad face that picks on people he thinks are bad, deserving of punishment."

Bingo.

Erik leaned back in his chair with a smirk, glancing at me before turning to her. "If that's the case," he asked, "how do you explain the snowmen?"

She tilted her head, thinking. "Maybe even a third face, a child," she said calmly. "Building snowmen is his way of creating something he lost in childhood. Or maybe something he never had."

"So, what you're saying is," I said, leaning forward, "this guy is lonely, sad, desperate, and old? Isn't that half the population of Iceland?"

A ripple of laughter broke through the room.

"This isn't a joke," she snapped, her voice cutting through the noise. "I was sent here to profile this man because none of you have been able to close this case. Ten years, and it's still open."

Ten years?

"What about his latest victim?" I asked after a pause, trying to get the conversation back on track. "Does she fit the profile?"

She paused, her jaw tightening, her eyes narrowing slightly. When she finally answered, her voice was flat. "No. She doesn't."

"We think someone saw the cabin burning and decided to throw the body into the flames," Donna said, her voice low, almost resigned. "She was already dead, at least a year beforethe fire." She paused, shaking her head. "And the bastard left nothing. Not a trace."

Again silence, then a few murmurs rippled through the team, fragmented whispers that didn't dare take form. Then the chief broke through it, his voice cutting.

"That bastard took my son," he said, his tone cold and steady, though his fist tightened on the desk. "And I'm going to make him pay."

No one said a word. We didn't have to. Everyone knew what was left unsaid. Everyone knew that if Josh's case file weren't covered by his father, it'd be as thick as the Bible.

"You're dismissed," the chief barked, waving us off without looking up.

We left quietly, the tension following us into the hallway. Erik and I walked together to my desk. He dropped into the chair across from me, flashing that crooked smile he always wore when he was about to cause trouble.

"Where are your contacts?" he asked, leaning back as if he had all the time in the world. His smile widened. "Does she know?"

"Just bits and pieces," I said, opening my desk drawer. I pulled out a small box and opened it. Shoving the contacts in, I blinked a few times, feeling the familiar sting.

"I went to see Joe," Erik said suddenly, his tone shifting like he was letting me in on a joke. "He's at his house." He paused, the grin returning. "Well, technicallyyourhouse. He doesn't know that part."

"Does he know it was you?" I asked, trying to sound casual as I shut the drawer.

Erik leaned forward, resting his elbows on my desk. "I wore your mask. Don't worry," he said, glancing away for a moment as if weighing his next words. "I got there just in time for the younger one, though. She's in the hospital."

I scanned him, waiting for more, but he hesitated, his eyes dropping to the floor.

"I need to tell you something," he said finally, his voice softer than before.

"What?" I asked, leaning forward slightly, my pulse quickening.

Before he could answer, Isak's voice broke through, startling both of us.

"I just came back from the hospital," he said, approaching my desk. His face was tight, his jaw clenched. "I asked about Bree, but they said she'd already left. Do you two know anything about that?"

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