Page 65 of Foxy Filthy Omega

“The locations these heads were found in are all unrelated with no obvious pattern or connection, but they’re all…displayed.” Soren glanced over at me, but I didn’t react to him or the information.

This was certainly not the worst thing I’ve ever heard or seen, but it was up there.

“If the heads are the only thing they displayed and there’s evidence of blood drainage, the killer is storing the body parts and blood or they’re dumping them,” I explained. “Either way, they’re somewhere.”

I tapped my fingers on the steering wheel as I drove, considering the options.

“Unless they burned them,” Soren suggested.

“Right, but they need access to something that’ll burn bodies then – a crematorium or a boiler. Something.” I glanced over at him, our eyes meeting. He seemed surprised and I gave him a bright smile. “There’s also the ocean and the lake just a little south of here.”

Soren didn’t seem flustered exactly but he did look down at my phone faster than he normally did. “Why do you think they asked for you?”

I tapped my fingers on the steering wheel again. I was pretty sure this was a personal question. The first one he’s asked me so far. That smile never failed to work and for whatever reason it surprised me every time when it did.

“They asked for me because I have a track record.” I ran my fingers through my hair and sighed. “What do you know about serial killers, Hart?”

“Only the obvious,” he admitted. “Stuff you hear about on crime shows and that kind of thing.”

I nodded and merged into the carpool lane. “The psychology behind a serial killer is pretty basic. They typically target strangers based on availability, vulnerability, and desirability. They’re sociopaths who derive pleasure from killing and they tend to be insecure. They kill because they’re terrified to be rejected.”

Serial killers were a popular topic in criminal psychology. They were flashy and everyone had a morbid interest in them, but as insane and egotistical as it might sound…I found them boring.

They were all entitled assholes who killed because they were sick in the head and couldn’t deal with any kind of rejection. Their motives were so incredibly basic and predictable, but profiling them wasn’t always easy.

Yes, their traits were all the same, but a lot of them were good at blending in – leaning more towards psychopathy than sociopathy.

“Anyways, that’s how they’re differentiated between one-time murderers – people who have a very specific motive. Most murderers do it for some sort of gain whereas a serial killer has this chronic overwhelming need to kill that sets them apart from everyone else.”

Soren didn’t react, but he did seem tense. I didn’t really understand why this would make him uneasy when he’d applied to Genesis to work as a detective, knowing what we did.

“For example, a lot of serial killers are male alphas who prey on betas and omegas.” I explained. “Usually ones who look like their omega parent or an omega they were rejectedby. Destroying everyone who looks like that person puts them in a position of superiority and eliminates any possibility that they might get rejected, abandoned, humiliated, or hurt in some other form or fashion.”

It was a lot more complicated than that since a lot of children were abused and still didn’t turn into serial killers.

The ones that did already had an illness and as an adult they were able to act on it.

“At the end of the day, it’s about instilling fear. It’s why they display their kills or leave them somewhere they’ll definitely be found. They want the whole world terrified of them because that gives them power.”

Pointing my finger like a gun at the cherries dangling from my rearview, I pretended to shoot them. Soren glanced at me like he wasn’t sure if I was losing my mind or not, but he kept his thoughts to himself. As always.

“I’m a detective who specializes in profiling,” I reminded him. “I can narrow down the potential suspects from millions to under a hundred. It might sound like bragging, but it’s basically the only thing I’m good at.”

“You’re good with people,” Soren offered, like he was trying to comfort me.

I chuckled and shook my head. “That’s basically the same thing. I’m good with people not because I like them, but because I understand them.”

Everyone except the guy sitting in my passenger seat apparently. I didn’t understand him at all.

He was the quiet type too which meant we were like oil and water. It was extremely unlikely our interests and experiences would align.

So, why did he sign up to work as a private detective if the idea of a serial killer made him look so uncomfortable?

I flipped on the turn signal and made my way toward the exit ramp. “Genesis is an armed detective agency. Because of that, the jobs we take can be more dangerous than the usual cases a private detective would take on. It’s not all about following spouses to see if they’re cheating or looking for estranged family members. We get hired for a lot of unsavory shit people don’t want the cops to know about, so if you have issues with the darker side of humanity, this might not be the job for you.”

Of course Soren Hart was different than most. He was an ex-soldier who served in the special forces, but that wasn’t quite the same as seeing how truly awful people could be up close and personal.

“If you really want to work as a private detective, I can’t stop you. Just remember you don’t have to work in the field. You’d be extremely valuable in a support role too.” I ran my hand through my hair again, feeling self-conscious for some reason.

---