Chapter 2: Stand Up And Out
Grace killed the engine in front of a radiant, one storey building that said McNamara and Troy, plastic surgery, on it, instructed her son to take his seat belt off, stepped out the car and waited for Sam to finish her phone conversation before they could go in, leaning towards her so that she can hear George's update as well.
"The first victim had briefly went out with a plastic surgeon," they heard the computer whiz' voice, "who later on was forced to go out of business, partially because of the McNamara and Troy practice's success, and he actually attacked and carved Dr. Troy's face before. He could be a nice suspect, but unfortunately he has spend the last three month in a correction institution in Chicago..."
"Well, that is not a bad idea, George," Sam held, "find the data on all plastic surgeons who had to give up their profession or there was some major problem with their business. Cross section that with juvenile offenders, or someone questioned over house burglary. Rapists sometimes test their abilities of breaking in to a friend's house at first, so the charges will be dropped. Remember, it can not be anything they would take a DNA sample for, cause the samples taken from victims don't match the database. See if you can find something that way. And how is it going with breaking into patient files to find out who had surgeries and the outcomes?...Okay then," she switched off the phone.
"Grace! Jason!" A curly haired, smiley woman flew towards them a cuddled the two Alvarezes up, "nice to see you again Sam. How is Chloe?" She turned to Sam.
"Oh, she's just back from her grandmothers'. Already missing the horses, and giving me a row about missing a boy's birthday party she would like to become a bit more fiends with. But she had to go back to school. Not that she doesn't like that. She is quite artistic I might say, especially in writing and dancing. How are things with you?"
"Ah, my life would be boring as ever, if I didn't work in this crazy joint."
"About that, Liz, are your bosses around? Do you think they would mind talking to me?"
"Sean, no, once he has come out from the operating room, although he is really busy and the surgeries might take a while too. Christian is in his office, I think there is no client with him right now, but he is not very approachable I might add. Not that he ever was. But now, as if he was moving in slow motion all the time. Figuratively speaking."
"That is understandable under the circumstances."
"Is it? Why? Sean was attacked too. Yet he is back to work at full speed, not pedalling outwards any time we mention using a scalpel."
"His experience was diff..." Sam started, "uhm, everyone deals with trauma differently. There is no right way to deal with a stressful event that applies for everyone. Bar actually, the more an individual stuffs down their negative emotions, the greater the intensity of the explosion of emotion when it erupts, believe me, I know, and that is not just a text book experience. But the sooner we get this rapist, the better for everyone. Could you show me to Dr. Troy's office?"
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Christian sat at his desk, to the eye of the beholder tiredly filling out a patient file stipulating what he needed to know from a blood test amongst a pile high of records and accounts, scribbling with his unintelligible scrawls, but in fact engulfed in an inner battle, trying to convince himself to concentrate. He had to be strong, he had to be persistent with pretending he was the casual playboy everybody knew, and eventually it will all be fine. He knew that ultimately, Sean was right, going back to work and taking his mind off things was the best thing for him to do, but it didn't seem to work out that easily. There was quite a high level of underlying anxiety that made him pause at times, needing a bit of willpower to move on from getting engulfed by memories of a long forgotten childhood. But he knew he had a strong will, if he could do it before, he could certainly live through this. Eventually he would win this battle with himself, but he needed a breather again. He put his head in his hands, momentarily giving up attempting to pretend he was leading a normal life, then shut his head up again when he remembered that the door of his office was open and somebody had not only seen him, but wanted his attention by knocking at his door.
The blonde woman looked a bit started herself when he looked up, and made a couple of hesitant steps towards him, "uhm...Dr. Troy...I'm from the FBI. We're investigating the Carver..."
"Oh, there was nothing else that occurred to me since my statement, which I'm sure you read," Christian said quickly, having no wishes whatsoever to remember what he was trying hard to forget, "I was off my work due to the attack and I'm very busy to catch up."
"I know Dr. Troy. Just a few questions...I have the experience that the interviewees usually know more than they disclose, not neccessarily because they want to hide something, but mainly because they can't think all that straight about what has happened to them. My job is partly to help them through the haze...uhm, do you know of any reason why the Carver would not rape your partner and would not slash your face?"
"Do you want a theory from me? That is your job," Christian said slowly, not missing the fact the woman went against his statement that still describes him not being raped with utter certainty, "you said you were from where?" He asked, wondering if the local sex crimes investigator had shared her theory with her already. That will be great, women chatting along about him being raped while having a cup of tea and chocolate cookies.
"We're the violent crimes team from Atlanta."
"Couldn't they find a team any closer?" Christian grunted, not all that impressed about the whole of America discussing his personal matters now.
"There are not many of a team of our kind actually, but we're here because our forensic doctor is the sister of your anaesthesiologist."
"Goddamn," Christian muttered. That lesbian was causing him more trouble than any other woman he ever met.
"Dr. Troy, I'm trying to help. We are on the same side here. I know very well how it feels having been used and abused. Becoming an object is what drives the victims to near insanity, I've been there. So I chose to be a profiler, cause I'm somehow instinctually good at it," Sam said, knowing that sometimes disclosing herself is the only way to get the other to do the same, "I try to understand the attackers. So I'm asking you again about your experience when meeting him, because what matters is not necessarily the content. What matters is the timing and the music and the meaning attributed to the content, if you know what I mean."
"Interesting. If you understand him, this means that you have something in common right? And you are asking me why he didn't carve my face. Am I supposed to have something in common with him? Did you profile me?" He got into the cat and mouse game. Sam was a woman above all, after all.
"I look at all potentials, that is my job."
"And?" He dared further.
"It's just more like an initial intuition, but you strike me as a take me as I am or leave me altogether person. And you are quite solitary, just like our criminal. Of course, that doesn't mean I accuse you of anything, just that you would have some similarities. But then everybody would find something similar in them with everybody. Looking for patterns, similarities, is one way to catch a killer. Especially if the characteristics deviate from norms so much it's not a haystack anymore you are looking at."
"Psychology, huh? Funny how it comes up with the ideal normal person, comparing to which I'm not, by and using mental patients as reference."
"You not a great believer in psychology, Dr. Troy?"
"Christian," he stood up and sat on his table from the other side, for the first time interested in the woman, captivated by the conflicting views, "let's just say if I'd gave it any thought, I'd be as good as dead, or actually, dead."
"Probably that is what the Carver thinks as well," Sam chipped in.
"Hm," Christian said slightly amused by the forensic psychologist, always pressing the matter, although in a different manner than Kit, "more similarities, huh? Well, I don't usually do anything to impose myself. I don't need to. Women get keen on me naturally. All I need to do is to be my annoyingly provoking self. And the self destructive mechanisms of the woman do the rest. And with your Carver, my guess, I wasn't a target really, he just had fun with me, since he was there. I was the means to get through to Sean, my partner, which I must say, was not so effective, cause he never got the message."
"Did it seem to you as if the assailant was competent in medical matters?"
"He was quick and efficient, that I can say."
"He?"
"Yes, he."
"How can you be certain of that?"
"You don't have to competent in medical matters to identify a broomstick, sweetheart, when it's pressing on top of you, even if its owner is enjoying himself by slashing your neck at the time."
"In that case, would you be also sure that the attacker was not wearing padding and in reality being as bulky as in the descriptions of the victims?"
"Yes."
"Describe with one word how did he appear to you?"
"Cold blooded."
"But you said he got excited when he slashed you? Sexually?"
"Takes nothing away from his ritualistic precision."
"Got some news," John bounced into the door, at first only seeing Sam. Then she stepped out the way and the two men came face to face with each other...
tbc