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“I’ll do my best,” Teller said. “What exactly am I looking for?”
Valerie pulled out a piece of paper from her inside coat pocket. The wind rattled it around between her fingers as she passed it to Teller.
“I’ve drawn up a preliminary suspect profile based on the main details from each case,” she explained.
Teller’s eyes quickly scanned over the page, taking in the list of traits that Valerie had highlighted. He nodded as he read, his brow furrowing in concentration.
“It looks like you’re looking for any male patient, with a history of escalating violence and who has been released from Elmwood within the last two years,” he said. “Ah, violencetoward animals too ... that’s a common trait among serial killers, right?”
Valerie nodded solemnly. She knew that this search was crucial to finding out who was responsible for this series of brutal attacks. If they didn’t find someone soon, more people could get hurt. Or worse.
“We better get started,” she said. “Agent Carlson is already inside preparing everything.”
They walked back into Elmwood, the wind howling around them, and Valerie was thankful that they had at least bolstered their numbers by one.
*
Valerie, Will, and Teller found Charlie huddled amid a pile of boxes stacked high in an enormous storage room. He had headphones on, listening to something as he worked. He was surrounded by mountains of dusty old files, and his face looked strained as he pored over each one, searching for something that might give them a clue to the killer’s identity.
Valerie approached him slowly, trying not to startle him as he worked. She could see the tension in the way his shoulders were hunched, and his brow was furrowed with concentration.
“Charlie?” she said gently, placing a hand on his shoulder.
“Jesus!” Charlie said loudly, jumping, and pulling the headphones down around his neck. “You nearly gave me a heart attack.”
Will laughed heartily. “Good to know you’re as human as the rest of us, Old Chap.”
“Less of the old,” he said shaking his head. He then saw Officer Teller standing behind them. He shook hands.
“Agent Carlson, nice to see you again,” Teller said.
“We’re glad to have you, and please, call me Charlie.”
“I think first names are probably a good idea if we’re going to be cooped up in this room together for hours on end,” Will said, pulling an old chair up in front of a wooden desk stacked with files.
“In that case, my name’s Sam,” Teller offered.
“Valerie, Will, and Charlie,” Valerie said, pointing to herself then her two partners.
Charlie took the headphones from around his neck and placed them onto the desk he was working from.
“What were you listening to, Charlie?” Valerie asked.
He pointed to an old dicta-phone tape with a miniature cassette in it. “These things are great. They take me back to a simpler time. I was just listening to some observations Gillian Pugh’s doctor had recorded that haven’t been transcribed yet.”
“Anything useful?” Will asked.
“Not yet,” Charlie answered. “This Doctor Winters, though, she sure does have a soothing voice.”
That name had bothered Valerie since she’d heard Doctor Whitmore mention it when they first arrived. There was something familiar about it, but she couldn’t place it.
She shrugged off the unease and helped everyone arrange four desks among the files, so they each had a space from which to work.
The storage room was warm, cozy even. A solitary window held the winds outside at bay.
“Let’s get started,” she said.
The next three hours passed at a snail’s pace. Valerie kept looking at her watch with each and every case file she looked through.