Page 8 of Pose for Me
As I stand in the surgical suite, wiring a man’s jaw shut after a bar fight gone wrong, I think about Agent Bauer. Something about him draws me in. It could be his tenacity; the almost palpable urge he has to clap my wrists in handcuffs. I’m not sure what it is, but I want to know more.
Trying to get close to the very FBI agent that wants to see me locked away for the rest of my life isn’t smart, but I haven’t played with a live human in a while. Maybe I can get him to pose for me before I take his fucking head off and show the world his final state of repose.
After I finish the maxillomandibular fixation, I leave my patient to the emergency room staff that called me in for the procedure. I scrub out, write the report, then head back to my office.
The urge to drive past Agent Bauer’s office is strong. My hand even jerks to the side when I pass the street that would lead me to his FBI field office. But I keep driving to my clinic so I can see the remaining consult patients I have for the day.
When I step inside my office and put down my attaché case, one of my oral surgery dental assistants, Candice, knocks on my door, looking shaken.
Adapting a concerned expression, I round my desk and stand in front of her. “Candice, are you alright?”
She nods, then shakes her head. “Do you remember the woman that came in with Mrs. Waters, your rhinoplasty from last week?”
I gaze up in the air, as if trying to place her face. “Yes, I think so. Blonde woman?”
She nods again. “She was the woman found in those woods last week. She was the latest victim of The Poser.”
I gasp softly, sounding shocked. I’ve perfected emotion over the past few decades to know what’s passable and what isn’t. “Oh god, that poor woman.”
“I know. Her friend is here for her first follow-up, and she’s a mess. I knew I recognized the woman when I saw her face on the news, but I didn’t put two and two together until a few moments ago.” Her face sets into a hard mask. “Whoever did that to her is a sick bastard, and I hope the police find him soon.” She looks at me sheepishly. “Sorry for my language, Dr. Harper.”
“No need to apologize,” I tell her, lightly rubbing her arm in comfort. “It’s a sentiment we all share.”
I keep my smirk to myself.
Visibly shaking herself, Candice says, “Sorry for being unprofessional. Mrs. Waters is here to see you in room five.”
“Thank you. If you need time…” I let my voice trail off.
“No, I’m fine, Dr. Harper. Thank you.”
I incline my head in understanding, then follow her to room five to see my patient. Mrs. Waters smiles shakily at me, and I give her a gentle smile in return, though inside I’m hungrily eating up her pain.
“Mrs. Waters, let me start by saying I’m so sorry for your loss.” I take one of her hands gently in both of mine.
Her face crumples, and I devour the expression. It feeds that part inside of me that loves the anguish.
She wipes under her eyes gently and in a nasally voice says, “Thank you, Doctor. That means a lot.”
I’m silent for a few moments as a show of respect, then we get started with her follow-up appointment. Tears leak from her eyes steadily, making me think of Janet’s expression as she took her last breath and how the vacant sockets in her face made her look almost ethereal.
Thirty minutes later, the appointment is over and I’m brimming with satisfaction from my kill.
I fill out my patient notes, then leave for the day, telling Candice to route any emergency calls to the oral surgeon on call for the ER.
Now I can get to what I really want to do: learn more about Agent Bauer. Might as well start with his home.
The drive to his apartment is about thirty minutes from my office. I park in his building’s underground garage, then take the elevator up to his floor. There are no cameras in this building, since this area is generally safe, so I’m not worried about anyone spotting me heading to his residence. I’m able to slip into his apartment without notice.
Once inside, I lock the door, remove my shoes, and carefully walk around.
He’s neat, nothing out of place. No leftover coffee is in the carafe, no dishes or even droplets of water in the sink. No stray appliances on the counter, and his refrigerator is as neat as a pin.
Black and green are the dominant colors in his outer space, the pop of color a treat to my eyes, much different than my monochromatic home.
In the living room, different shades of green pillows, fluffed and neat, are aligned on the couch as if staged for a buyer. The dark green rug is soft, my feet sinking into the material.
His bedroom is just as clean as the living room, also made up of shades of green and black. Black dresser, black nightstand, black comforter, with green blackout curtains and green pillowcases. The bed is made with military precision, the corners folded tight. I smirk.
