Of course, if Annalise was being honest with herself, it wasn’t the psychologist in her who was frustrated by her inability to figure out what Jakob was thinking or feeling. It was the woman.
What had begun as a spark of attraction had grown, despite her best efforts, until now she was consumed by a longing she’d never experienced. She wanted her bodyguard, and the absurdity of that cliché was not lost on her.
She pretended not to notice Jakob’s occasional glances, forcing herself to concentrate on the file she was reading. It was difficult. More and more she found herself thinking about Jakob. Not in a professional way but rather a naked, sweaty way.
She constantly reminded herself that her feelings for him were a byproduct of circumstance and situational intimacy. Perhaps a form of transference, since he was an authority figure with whom she had a close relationship, and who had “rescued” her from the bugs, then continued to protect her.
There wasn’t a term for this particular situation, and she’d considered having one of her advanced classes do research on it. There was, perhaps, an interesting journal article that could be written about it. They could call it damsel-in-distress syndrome, though she disliked the gendered nature of it.
Unfortunately, knowing the psychology behind her feelings didn’t dim them or make them easier to dismiss.
And to make matters worse, Jakob was locked up tighter than a drum, his own feelings toward her a complete mystery.
Annalise sighed and tried once more to push all thoughts of Jakob out of her head. She’d promised the fleet admiral she’d study the files and attempt to come up with a profile. Picking up a pen, she jotted down a note and for a few minutes, she was actually able to concentrate on the file she was reading.
That concentration was broken when Jakob turned off the television and shifted to face her.
She set down her pen and tipped down her laptop screen, not closing it all the way. “There’s clearly something on your mind, Jakob. Say it.”
“Are you certain you want to work on this case?”
“Do you think I should have said no?”
Jakob quickly shook his head. “No. I’m not saying that at all. I’m just concerned that…”
He didn’t finish his statement, didn’t have to. He’d been with her enough in the past few years to understand how hard her confidence had been shaken by her stalker, by Adele’s attack, and her failure to find the man and bring him to justice. She’d morphed from an intelligent, assertive profiler to one who questioned everything she’d thought she knew about herself and her abilities.
Annalise gave him a sad smile. “I want to do this,” she said, with a strength she didn’t really feel.
Jakob frowned—of course her forthright response hadn’t fooled him—but he didn’t immediately speak. She was used to his long pauses, accustomed to his habit of thinking before he spoke. She appreciated that about him, preferring it to people who expressed inane or stupid sentiments without thought or care.
At last, he said, “I think it will be good for you. To profile again.”
Sometimes she struggled to recall her time with the Kripo, her life as a profiler. It almost felt as if she’d been someone else back then, an entirely different person. Someone who, more and more, she wanted to be again.
“Perhaps it will.”
Jakob nodded toward the pad of paper where she’d scrawled several of her thoughts. “What have you found?”
“The fleet admiral’s search basis is too large, and as such, the victim pool is muddy. Plus the fact that Josephine O’Connor’s body was not found—only her head—also complicates it. What I need to do is narrow the parameters without relying solely on Josephine’s file. There simply isn’t enough there.”
“How?”
“I’ve done a cursory read-through of all the files, starting with victims who were dismembered.” She held up two fingers. “There are two distinct classifications within the files.”
“Classifications.” Jakob looked at her with a calm, focused expectation.
“Most of the dismemberment files were attributed to organized crime or another potential source of societal violence, such as drug cartels or gangs, by the investigators. The victims often had either fingers, toes, ears, or noses removed before they died—as noted in their autopsies.”
“Torture.”
“And scare tactics, precisely. I’d say ninety-five percent of these files were correctly attributed, with the perimortem dismemberment a form of punishment or torture as you just pointed out. But, the cause of death is not the torture.” She checked her notes. “Most often it was a gunshot wound, often to the head, or carotid artery severed with a knife.”
“The kill was quick. Professional.”
“Exactly, and for the files in this classification, my reading of it is that the postmortem dismemberment was a function of either necessity for disposal or extended punishment for those victims who come from cultures where funerary practices rely on an intact body.”
“They were denied a proper burial.”
“Yes.”
“The other five percent?”
“Those, plus the dismembered, non-mob-attributed files, are in the second category, which for simplicity we’ll call non-organized-crime dismemberment. From there, I’ve split them into several subcategories. First…” She took a breath. “Women who suffered antemortem or perimortem torture and rape.”
The word stuck a little in her throat, but she was focused on doing her job, and she blocked out everything else.
Jakob stared at her, his attention and focus complete and unwavering. “They could still be organized-crime kills.”
She liked it when he talked. Liked it even more because he so rarely spoke that his relative chattiness when they were alone made her feel special.
“That’s very true, but for one thing. I think that for these victims, the death was accidental. The focus for the unsub was the torture.”
He was still for a moment, processing. “I hate it when I torture someone and they accidentally die.”
Annalise blinked, then burst into laughter. Jakob rarely joked, but when he did, it was usually deadpan and delivered in such a way that people who didn’t know him as intimately as she did wouldn’t actually know if it was a joke.
When her giggles subsided, she looked up to see him smiling at her. Her heart skipped a beat. He had a gorgeous smile. His lower lip was full and luscious. More than once, she’d imagined biting his lip, maybe tugging on it to show him how much she wanted him. Then he’d growl and grab her butt, lift her up. She’d wrap her legs around him and then…
Annalise shoved the lid of her laptop up and stared at the autopsy photo of a severed hand.
Perfect libido killer.
“Of the two lists I’ve created, we’ve gone over antemortem rape and torture.” She took a breath and straightened her shoulders. “Next are victims whose primary pre-death injuries were due to rape. Some also show signs of physical attack, but nothing that would be defined as torture.”
“Annalise…”
She glanced up, holding herself tight. If he asked if she was okay, she might not be.
Jakob stared at her for a moment, and there was something in his eyes she couldn’t decipher. But he didn’t say anything, only nodded for her to go on.