Page 105 of Love Undecided
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The profiler shows up a short time later. Gasps of surprise ring though the room.
“That’s right, I’m a little person,” he says. “Make the little things count, appreciate the little things in life, you’re almost tall enough to be taken seriously, you’d make a good armrest, you must be a positive person since you’re always looking up, you gotta hand it to short people sometimes cause they can’t reach it otherwise. Blah, de-blah, fucking blah. Okay? Get all your laughs out now, all your little jokes. Got it all out? Great, now fuck off, sit up straight, and listen. Take notes if you’re too stupid to remember what I say. I’m an offender profiler, not your babysitter. I don’t have time to repeat myself and I barely have time for questions.”
Everyone in the room sits up straighter, I grab my pen and paper, ready to take notes; even if that does make me stupid in his eyes.
He writes a few things on a whiteboard:
Male. Organized. Blue-collar worker. Single. No kids. Lives alone. Works with his hands.
Then starts talking. “Okay, first and most important, these two girls will not be his only victims. If he hasn’t already, he will be taking more girls. Similar age and social standing, but not necessarily similar in looks and appearance. He likes little girls, but they aren’t in any danger from him. At least not physical danger. He wants what he thinks they represent, which is innocence.”
I try to take notes as he gives us information, especially since everything he is saying is filling in every blank that we’ve had with this whole investigation. But he speaks so fast, it makes it difficult.
"He was more than likely sexually assaulted as a child, repeatedly. So he probably won’t do the same to these girls, though he does have the predilections to. And let me be clear, just because he has not sexually assaulted yet, does not mean he won’t.”
The thought of that makes me sick to my stomach.
“Right now we are dealing with a pedophile, people, and make no mistake, there is a difference between a child molester and a pedophile,” he says.
“A pedophile gets his rocks off by thinking about children in a sexual way. A molester gets his rocks off by actually abusing children in a sexual way. Many pedophiles never move on to molest. Let’s hope this guy stays that way. My guess is he’s taking pictures of these girls to use later, for his own pleasure. He’s not a distributor of kiddie porn. Any questions?”
Wisely, no one speaks up.
“Okay, now, let’s get to the shower. Even though he is literally taking a shower, this shower is metaphorical for him—”
“Ha!” I say, turning toward Bauer and pointing a finger at him. “I knew it was a spiritual shower.” Bauer rolls his eyes at me.
I face back forward, feeling very smug, only to see the profiler standing before me, giving me a very stern look. His gaze is even with mine, even though I am sitting.
“Are you through?” he asks.
“Yes, sir,” I say.
He nods, and continues, “As I was saying, this shower represents more of a way to wash away anything that he considers ‘dirty’ about him and replace it with a new and ‘clean’ him.” He uses finger quotes on the words dirty and clean.
“And he does this using the same place these girls bathe every day, their own showers. It’s deliberate on his part. It’s purposeful. And, as far as he’s concerned, it’s effective. Or at least it will be.
"Now, here’s what’s needed from you idiots. He’s got a specific number of victims for a reason. Figure it out. There could be an order to the victims. Figure it out. You already know who the victims are going to be. Keep them safe. Any questions? Good. I hate questions.”
He leaves without waiting for a response or saying goodbye. Everyone in the room seems a little stunned. Bauer speaks first.
“Okay, let’s get guys on the other two girls immediately. Anyone not still on shift, go home and get some rest. I need you fresh.” He claps his hands and everyone sort of scatters.
“What about you?” I ask him.
He looks exhausted with dark circles under his eyes, a scruffy face and messy hair. Just not in a good way, and definitely not a bit like the Bradley Cooper fromThe A-Teammovie lookalike I’ve grown accustomed to.
“I’ve been here all night, and I’ll be here all day. Nothing is changing that.” He moves to stand, his body getting stuck in the desk. It rises with him, caught around his hips.
“Fucking desks! I’ve always hated them,” he says, pushing it down his legs and trying to step out of it without falling.
I start to laugh. “You poor thing,” I say. “Did you have the same problem back in school too?”
My pinkie finger starts to spasm.
School.
Holy shit.
“Bauer, that’s how he knows them. The girls. He works at their school.”
“How do you know?”
“I got a feeling. A real one. It’s strong. I know I’m right.”
“Okay, then Cookie. Let’s find a single guy with no kids who works with his hands at the school.”
