Detective Owens sat at his desk trying to make an impression on the tower-like stack of paperwork before him thinking that he wouldn't have to put up with this shit for much longer as the lake house beckoned and retirement grew close. But there was no way he could go and find the peace he craved until he stopped this animal that was cutting these young women up. How could he relax growing old knowing that he had failed these young women, failed their families. That was not him.
Six bodies had now been found in and around the Minnesota area all bearing multiple stab wounds and a gut hook knife left in the victim's sternum completed the macabre crime scenes. The press had now got wind of the killers "Calling card" and began referring to him as the Minnesota shrike.
SHRIKE-- any of numerous predaceous oscine birds of the family Laniidae, having a strong, hooked,
and toothed bill, feeding on insects and sometimes on small birds and other animals: the members
of certain species impale their prey on thorns or suspend it from the branches of trees to tear it
apart more easily, and are said to kill more than is necessary for them to eat.
Jack Crawford head of the FBI behavioural science unit knocked and entered Owens office, beside him stood a young purposeful looking man who seemed to have an air of self confidence about him.
"Peter this is special agent Graham…..Will Graham," Crawford said.
"Will has been training in my department at Quantico studying the behaviour of serial killers, I'm sure he can be of help to you," Crawford said, knowing Owens wouldn't be happy a trainee being brought into the case at such a vital time. But Graham had excelled at Quantico, after seeing a case file on a spate of murders in east California his profiling of the killer led to the arrest of the San Jose monster Michael Porter.
Before Owens could speak Graham began, "Detective I am not here to step on anyone's toes I just hope I can fit into the team you already have and we can go to work on nailing this guy."
"That's what we must do before this son of a bitch gets restless again," Owens said admiring the young agent's straightforward introduction.
"Will's going to go over the case files again, visit the crime scenes and try and get a feel for this guy" Crawford said. "Hopefully by this time next week we'll know if he takes sugar in his fucking coffee".
"First of all I want to visit the psychiatrist who helped with the Porter case, I only corresponded with him from Quantico but I feel it will be really beneficial to meet with him," Graham said. "I will go straight away."
Graham stood at the front of a large upmarket apartment block in a well to do area of Baltimore, darkness cloaked the surrounding streets only illuminated by the inhabited homes and the streetlights above, a car moved off in the distance. Graham made his way up the front steps catching the eye of a gargoyle perched menacingly on the roof. The sound of the buzzer was followed by a metallic like voice with a hypnotic allure.
"Is that you Will," the voice said.
"Yes it's Will Graham….special agent Graham; it's good to finally meet you Doctor Lecter."
