"There's something in her hand. It may be only a piece of cloth, but … " I bent so low over it that my breath caressed the skin and brought a scent up from it to me. Musty, an animal smell. My breath did one other thing. It moved the edge of the thing in her hand. The one tiny edge wasn't as blood-logged, and it moved as I blew across the hand.
I straightened. "I think it's a feather." I looked around the room trying to see where it could have come from. Except for the antler chandelier nothing else in the room seemed made of animals.
Bradford and Franklin looked at each other. "What?" I asked.
"What made you say her?" Franklin asked.
"The nails, the wedding ring set." I glanced up at the rest of the body. The only other clue that this had been a woman was maybe the size of the neck dainty. "She was small, about my size, maybe a little smaller." I heard myself say it and felt nothing. I felt empty like a shell thrown up on the sand, empty and echoing. It felt a little bit like being in shock, and I knew that later I'd pay for it. Either I'd have screaming hysterics once I had some privacy, or I'd broken something in myself that might never come back, might never fix.
"Besides the fact that it's female, what else do you see?" Franklin asked.
I didn't like being tested, but somehow I just didn't have the energy to bitch about it. "The other vics were disjointed down to their finger bones. This one isn't. When I first heard that survivors were being carefully skinned then mutilated, and that the dead were all torn apart, I thought we might dealing with a pair of killers. One very organized and in charge, the other disorganized and following. But the bodies weren't torn up. They were very carefully dissected. It was organized, very thought out. But this … " I motioned at the thing on the table. "This was not organized. Either our organized killer is beginning to dissolve and become less coherent, or we have two killers like I originally thought. If we have two killers, then the organized one in charge has lost control over his follower. This murder was not well planned. That means mistakes, which will help us. But it may also mean that anyone that crosses paths with this thing is dead. Higher body count from here on out, more frequent kills maybe, maybe not."
"Not bad, Ms. Blake. I even agree with you on most of it."
"Thank you, Agent Franklin." I wanted to ask what parts didn't he agree with, but was pretty sure where we disagreed. "You still think this is a human serial killer?"
He nodded. "I do."
I looked at the remains like lumpy red paint tossed across the table. The bloodstains had spread until I was standing in the edge of it. The cops hated to have you tracking blood everywhere. I stepped back, and the stain spread out towards me. I took another step back. My foot crunched in something. I knelt and found salt on the floor. Someone had gotten messy during lunch. I stood up.
"This is fresh kill, Agent Franklin, real fresh. How long would it take a person, even two people, to reduce another human being to this?"
His long hands played over his tie again. I wondered if he knew he did that when he was nervous. If he didn't, I'd play poker with him any day. "I really couldn't give an estimate, not and be accurate."
"Fine. Do you really think a person is strong enough to tear someone apart like this quickly enough to have the blood this fresh? The damn thing's bleeding like it's still alive, it's so damn fresh. I don't think a human being could do this much damage this quickly."
"You are entitled to your opinion."
I shook my head. "Look, Franklin, it was logical for you to assume the killer, or killers, were human. It usually is human in your line of work. I'm assuming you're with the Investigative Unit."
He nodded.
"Great. See, you hunt people. That's what you do. They are monsters but not real monsters. I don't hunt people. I hunt monsters. That's just about all I do. I don't think I've ever been called into a case where the perp was human, or at least where magic wasn't involved."
"Your point," he said, very stiff, eyes angry.
"My point is that if they had thought this was a monster to begin with, they'd have sent it over to Bradford's new unit. But they didn't, did they?"
His eyes were a little less angry, more uncertain. "No, they didn't."
"Everyone thought it was human, so why shouldn't you assume the same thing? If they'd dreamt that it was non-human, they wouldn't have sent it to you, right?"
"I suppose so."
"Great. Then let's work together, not at cross purposes. If we split our manpower between looking for people and looking for monsters, it will cost time."
"And if you're wrong, Ms. Blake, if it is a human being doing these terrible things and we stop investigating down that avenue it could cost more lives." He shook his head. "It's not my initial report I'm standing by, Ms. Blake. It's the chance that it is a human perpetrator. We will continue to treat this as a normal investigation." He looked at Bradford. "That is my final recommendation."
He turned to Edward. "And you, Mr. Forrester, are you going to dazzle me with your profiling abilities?"
Edward shook his head. "No."
"What do you offer to this investigation then?"
"When we find it, I'll kill it."
Franklin shook his head. "We are not judge, jury, and executioner, Mr. Forrester. We are the FBI."
Edward looked at him, and most of Ted's good ol' boy charm seemed to have seeped out of his eyes, leaving them cold and uncomfortable to meet. "I have two men with me out in the car, one of them is an expert on this type of crime. If this was done by a person, then he'll be able to tell us how it was done." His voice had gone bland, smooth, and empty.
"Who is this expert?" Franklin asked.
"Why is he still out in the car?" Bradford said.
"Otto Jefferies, and because Lieutenant Marks wouldn't let him in," Edward answered.
"By the way," I said, "thanks for getting me back on the case, Bradley."
Bradley smiled. "Don't thank me. Help us solve the damn thing."
"Who is Otto Jefferies?" Franklin asked.
"He's a retired government worker," Edward said.
"How does a retired government worker have expertise on this type of killing?"
Edward looked at him until Franklin began to fidget, smoothing his hands down not just his tie but his suit coat. He even checked his cuffs, though to make the movement really effective you needed cufflinks. Buttons just didn't do it.
"I'm sure you are implying something by your so pointed gaze, but my question stands. What land of government worker would have this kind of expertise?"
Franklin may have been nervous but he was also stubborn.
"Call the state department," Edward said. "They'll answer your questions."
"I want you to answer my questions."
Edward gave a small shrug. "Sorry, if I told you the truth, I'd have to kill you." He said the last with a good ol' boy smile, and an awe-shucks shine in his eyes. Which probably meant he was serious.
"Bring your men in," Bradley said.
"I must protest involving more civilians in this case," Franklin said.
"Duly noted." Bradley looked at Edward. "Bring them in, Mr. Forrester. I'm agent in charge on site." Edward went for the door.
"For now," Franklin said.
Bradley looked up at the taller man. "I think you need to be elsewhere, Franklin."
"Where would I be of better use than overseeing the crime scene?"