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On the long drive into the office, Nora drifted in and out of sleep. Normally, we spent our ride into work talking the entire time. Lately, however, she fell under the spell of the tires on pavement.

Work began with a hustle the minute we broke onto our unit. With word that Jackson's team planned to bring in a suspect on our serial case, the team burst into action.

I spent most of the day trapsing through the rundown trailer that the suspect used as his slaughterhouse and torture chamber. Nora remained back at the field office, and for that I was grateful.

Roderick and Taylor accompanied me on the inside, while the rest of the crime scene folks remained outside for the time being.

"Are we sure this is our guy?" asked Roderick as he motioned to the floor covered with dry blood. "Or did we accidentally catch an undiscovered second serial?"

"I kind of agree with what he said. The bodies we found weren't devastated enough to warrant this level of bloodshed—" Taylor paused to gag. "And dismemberment."

"Through the mouth, Taylor." I clapped him on the back. "Don't puke on the crime scene."

"Trying." He gulped and shook his head.

"Roderick makes a point. I was thinking something similar." I turned to face them, crossing my arms as I contemplated the blood spatter on the ceiling. "What we've found is a torture den full of human blood and tissue. There could be more victims that we haven't found. Maybe the ones he discarded didn't fit to his liking. And so we found those only. The ones he wanted, he brought here to do whatever he did with them."

"Fair point." Roderick stroked his chin while glancing around.

Taylor's face grew greener by the moment before he bolted from the scene.

"And here I thought you were gonna be the one to hurl first." I nodded toward Roderick. "Usually it's you."

"I learned a trick." He pointed to his upper lip. "From the M.E. on the last case."

"What's that?"

"Lavender oil under my nose. It dulls the gross and overwhelms with pretty." He smirked and gestured toward the door. "I told Taylor to do it. He said it was too girly. This is his punishment."

"Or you could just grow a set and get used to it." I smirked and pushed past him. "Desensitization at its finest. Let's look under this box. My spider sense tells me we're missing something."

"Are you gonna make me crawl under this murder wagon?" He nearly whined when he followed me.

"You know it. Dip your balls in some lavender oil and get a move on." I rolled my eyes on the way out.

"Fuck you, Donovan."

I laughed at him, and pointed to the weeds surrounding the trailer. "Have at it."

"Ugh."

We spent hours on the scene in the Seattle suburbs before heading back to the city by dusk. In the emerging spring, daylight worked in our favor as well as the milder weather at times. Jackson's team met up with us in the conference room for our information session until Wilkinson called for the break.

Wilkinson instructed Jackson and me to remain behind, and so we did.

"Donovan's theory about a higher body count seems fitting. Thoughts, Jackson?" asked Wilkinson.

"It makes sense given the crime scene. Instinct tells me that we stumbled on only one of his many scenes, though. The house on the property was the spitting image of perfection. White picket fences, everything in order. The type of house that gives out full size candy bars on Halloween." Jackson paced beside the wall of windows that overlooked the cityscape.

"No family to account for?" asked Wilkinson.

"None that lived with him at present. Looks like he has a ten-year-old son who lives with his mother. He's a freelance graphic designer by trade. His bank accounts reflect a larger income source though. Gordo is running some numbers. He thinks the subject dealt with digital currency."

"Given his younger than average age, and higher than average body count, I would agree," I said. "Is he in lockup?"

"Yes." Jackson nodded. "Legal name is Joshua James Hollister."

"I was half expecting Joshua James Simon or some triple-first-name threat." I rolled my eyes. "Who's interviewing him?"