“You want me to create a profile of him, based on the case reports,” Annalise said quietly. She didn’t do this kind of work anymore. Couldn’t. She’d lost whatever edge and insight she’d had. Except, looking at the files on her computer screen, she felt compelled. Anticipatory.
She glanced at Jakob, who was looking at her with interest. There was very little that got by her bodyguard.
No, her friend.
The passage of time had slowly changed their relationship from that of protector to someone with whom she felt a genuine connection.
He saw it. Knew before she’d even accepted the case that she was going to do this. She’d failed Adele, but she would be damned if she’d fail Josephine.
“Yes. And Walt’s going to look at the autopsy reports and tell us if this guy is, or was, a doctor.”
“Damn it, Jim, I’m a doctor, not a forensic pathologist.” Everyone looked at Walt, who stared blandly back at them. “Star Trek? Seriously? God, I miss my brothers,” he muttered.
“How many murders?” Annalise took a blank notebook out of her drawer and flipped it open.
“I don’t know,” Eric answered.
Annalise frowned and started opening the top-level files in the thumb drive. The decapitation file had dozens of names. She opened the dismemberment file. More names. She suppressed a groan when she realized what she was actually looking at.
“You’re not sure which of these people were killed by the same suspect who murdered Ms. O’Connor.” Annalise opened the folder with MA in the title. The list of names here was much shorter, but still long enough to make her wince.
“It could have been a professional,” Jakob pointed out.
Eric shook his head. “No, I’ve had words with a lot of people in that business, and no one has heard of Josephine’s kill.”
“Wouldn’t assassins lie about assassinating someone?” Walt asked.
“If they didn’t talk about their kills, how would anyone know how good they are?” Eric raised one hand. “It’s possible, but I’ve ruled that out, for the most part.”
“This is why you disappeared,” Annalise said. “So you could track down leads.”
“The Spartan Guard would have a collective heart attack if they knew where I’ve been and what I’ve been doing. By the way, neither of you is going to tell anyone you’ve seen me, got it?” Eric’s menacing tone made it very clear there would be hell to pay if they did.
Annalise nodded, but Jakob held his ground.
“No one,” Eric reiterated. “That’s an order from your fleet admiral.”
Jakob gave one short, terse nod, making it clear he was following that particular directive under duress.
Walt looked almost cheerful as he said, “He took down an extremist group in Libya. Showed up at my clinic covered in blood. So I invited him to be my date to my brother’s wedding.”
Annalise blinked at Walt. That must be a joke. She’d never thought she had trouble understanding American humor…
Eric leaned forward, and once again Annalise got the sense that this wasn’t the leader of the Masters’ Admiralty working on behalf of his society.
This was a man on a mission. And it was personal. “I need a profile. If you can get me a profile and a list of other victims, great, but if you just want to do a profile from Josephine’s file, I’ll take it.”
Annalise’s brain was already folding and contorting the information she had, analyzing what she knew. “If the unsub killed Josephine at the direction of Petro, with whom he must have had some kind of trusting, possibly manipulative relationship, then a profile based only on her file won’t be indicative of his personal pathology.”
“I looked at the images on the flight,” Walt said. “Of Josephine, I mean. I can tell you whoever removed the head knew what they were doing. I doubt it was their first time doing so.”
Annalise made a note. “Then we assume the modus operandi of beheading is part of the pathology, part of the killer’s need.”
“That’s why Petro sent him.” Jakob was no longer staring Eric down, but looking at her computer screen, then at her notes. “He knew how to cut off heads.”
“Hey, this guy might be useful.” Eric grinned at Jakob. “If I wasn’t hiding from the admirals, I’d tell Dolph Eburhardt I needed you.”
“Maybe you should stop hiding like a little bitch,” Walt pointed out.
Annalise and Jakob both sucked in shocked breaths. One simply didn’t speak to the fleet admiral that way.
“You’re a little bitch,” Eric countered.
“I have three siblings. You’re going to need to up your insult game.”
Eric and Walt’s relationship would have been fascinating if she hadn’t had a computer full of murder files to look through. Annalise jotted down a few more notes and flipped to a blank page. She looked around the room. “I will need time to go over these.”
“How long?” Eric asked.
“A day. Maybe even a few days, if you want me to first identify murders potentially committed by the same unsub, then have Dr. Hayden verify the skills and incorporate all of that into a profile.”
“Days.” Eric folded his arms, looking like he wanted to argue with her, but then nodded. “Okay. I have a document in there with my notes. The things I’ve been using to try to trace possible victims.”
Annalise found the file and opened it.
Victims:
Humans, age 18 – 45.
Found in pieces 1 – 90 days after disappearance.
Last seen walking somewhere.
Other people also walking. Some with groceries and/or dogs.
That was it. That was all it said. Annalise forced herself to smile. “Good, uh…job, Fleet Admiral. Will you be staying here or in Frankfurt, so I can consult with you and Dr. Hayden?”
“A little place between here and Frankfurt. When I leave Germany, it will be to go kill someone.”
With that, the fleet admiral opened the door to her office and walked out. A second later he returned, grabbed Walt by the shirt, and hauled him out too.
When the door closed, Annalise looked up at Jakob. Her quiet, terse guardian sighed and said something that rather nicely summed up what had happened.
“Fuck.”
Chapter Four
Annalise tucked her legs beneath her on the couch, her laptop resting on her knees as she read through one of the countless files on the thumb drive she’d received from the fleet admiral two days earlier. Outside her windows, a group of drunk students went by singing loudly enough for her to hear them. Classes would begin again in a week or so, and students were making the most of their Christmas break.
Jakob sat across from her, mindlessly clicking through the TV channels without stopping to watch anything. Given the fact he’d muted the sound, she suspected he wasn’t interested in watching television at all. She’d felt his gaze slide to her several times over the past few minutes, but he hadn’t spoken, even though she was certain there was something on his mind.
Jakob was a reserved man, a consummate professional, the type of person capable of compartmentalizing his emotions in order to focus on his job. It was an admirable quality in a Ritter. However, it was frustrating as hell for her, a woman who had once made a living from reading other people’s words and emotions to analyze their actions and predict their reactions.