I am posting an excerpt from my most current WIP Watching: You can find it in word format here…
People who preyed on those weaker and more defenseless than themselves deserved whatever punishment was thrown at them. That thought was at the front of Dr. Georgia Dennis’s mind as she picked her way over fallen branches and loose rocks, only steps behind her partner. “He’s either a sadist or a mission killer.”
“Any evidence to back up your theory so early in the investigation?” Her partner and supervisor asked. Georgia fought a sneer as he easily stepped over a fallen log that she would have to climb over.
“Method of death…sir.” The sir was tacked on for protocol’s sake. She and Hellbrook shared little respect between them. Hadn’t since they’d met eight months earlier when her former unit had joined with his for a sniper case in Seattle.
“Continue. Talk it out for me.” Impatience was evident as he waited for her to climb the log.
Georgia accepted a helping hand from the third person on their six mile trek even though she knew it would lessen her capabilities in Hellbrook’s eyes. The local agent, Elias Stanton, had met them at the base of the mountain to lead them to this crime scene. It didn’t take Georgia’s skills as a profiler to see the man wasn’t lost to the undercurrents between her and Hellbrook. Undercurrents that were completely Hellbrook’s fault. He’d made it clear when she’d transferred to his team–the Complex Crimes Unit–six months earlier that he thought her presence in one of most elite divisions in the FBI was based on nepotism. Yes, her father had created the division, but Georgia had earned her spot. Regardless of what Hellbrook thought.
Georgia adjusted her backpack, scanning the overgrown trail for any signs of the killer the locals may have missed. “Stoning. It’s a traditional method of killing, used as far back as Biblical times. Four young girls becoming aware of their sexuality. He sees it, decides to cleanse-therefore, mission killer. Alternatively, he could be a classic sadist. Someone who wondered into the idea of stoning, possibly by throwing rocks at a small animal-or even a smaller child. Someone who enjoys watching his victims suffer. Someone who picks those who can’t retaliate. Or those he puts into positions where they can’t fight back.” She threw a glare at him, challenging him to argue, as she ticked off the points she made on her fingers. She wasn’t talking about the unknown subject-the UNSUB-and she wondered if he knew it.
“So someone who enjoys hurting others?” The local agent was confused and it was evident in his tone. Georgia was used to that. Many agents–even if they were good agents–struggled with the idea of profiling.
“Yes. And he’s raging against all females, especially those similar in type to the four victims. Was there any signs of sexual assault?” Georgia hated to ask, especially since the victims in this case were all teenage girls. She hated when the victims were kids, always imagining her four-year-old son Matthew in their place. Imagining herself in their parents’ places.