"Son of a bitch!" Deakins growled later that day, slamming a fist down on his desk. "You're telling me that after we ordered stepped-up patrols in the Park, he still got in and killed a girl?"
"We're not happy about it either, Captain," Eames said tightly.
"Especially since this is his third," Goren added. "Which officially puts him in the category of serial killer, according to the clinical criteria.".
"Oh, that's just great," Deakins sighed, slumping back in his chair as his anger faded into plain old annoyance. "Congratulations to him. I'll be sure to send a flower arrangement - as soon as you guys find him!"
Goren and Eames exchanged a look, then stood up in unison. "We'll let you know if we come up with anything else, sir," Eames said through gritted teeth.
"You do that. Check in with me at the end of the day if I don't see you before then."
"Yes, sir."
Almost before they'd closed the office door behind them, Eames was opening her mouth to comment on the atmosphere of the conversation they'd just finished.
"He's getting pressure from all sides," Goren said before she could get the words out. "We shouldn't hold it against him if he's irritated."
"Since when are you so magnanimous?" she asked as they sat down at their desks.
He glanced up from the pile of papers he was sorting, offered her a small smile, and then returned his attention to them. "I'm not being magnanimous. I'm being empathetic. We both know what it's like to have people leaning on you to solve something and get it done it yesterday."
"My vocabulary stands corrected." Flipping open the slim file they'd started on Maria White, she sighed. "Where do you want to go from here? Background?"
He nodded. "It's all we've got right now. That and the physical similarities between the victims."
"You really think he's just picking them by looks? It could still be a coincidence."
"No," he said, leaning over his desk to look at the file she was reading. "It's a common behavior for serial killers. Ted Bundy preferred women with long, dark, straight hair."
She shrugged, still unconvinced. "But none of the girls have been prostitutes. They've all been solidly middle-class."
Looking up again, he blinked. "Pardon?"
"If you're going to go by prototypical serial killer traits, then you need to account for why his victims aren't hookers or runaways." Amused by his look of consternation, she reached out to pat his hand comfortingly. "I know how to read books too, Bobby."
Clearing his throat, he shook his head slightly, as if trying to clear it, too. "I know you do. I'm just, uh . . . no, never mind. You have a point. None of these girls were unusually vulnerable, so why put in the extra work to get them instead of grabbing a girl off the street?"
She gave him a slight smile. "Still want to claim it's only their looks he's attracted to?"
"You find me another link between those three women, and then we'll talk about revising the profile."
"Gee, thanks." She slapped at the back of his hand, which was still on her desk, trying to drive him back to his own desk. "Back on your side of the room, buddy. If I have to do your work for you, then you sure don't get to sit and watch me do it."
"I was kidding, Eames!" he protested, looking wounded as he dropped back into his chair. "We do need to link them, but I'm not going to tell you to do it on your own. What kind of information do we have on the first two girls?"
Annoyed at herself for having bought his line, she glowered at him. "You know, one of these days you're going to catch me in a bad mood and I'm going to break your nose first and ask questions later."
Wincing, he rolled his chair a few more inches away from her. "I would prefer you didn't. What do we know about the first two victims?"
She sighed and opened another folder. "Elizabeth Osborne, twenty-nine. Mid-level administrator for an HMO office in the city. She's got a brother and a sister, and her parents are still alive."
"Hobbies?"
"Beats me," she replied promptly, then went on,."The second girl was Leah Olney, nineteen. Part-time student, part-time secretary in a psychiatrist's office. Only child, survived by her mother."
"That's it?"
"Bobby, they didn't even realize these cases were related 'til less than a week ago. Cut whoever worked them some slack, will ya? Besides, you know you live for doing this stuff - fleshing out profiles, trying to connect the dots . . ."
Her voice trailed off there and her face took on a slightly distant look, her eyes focusing on something over Goren's shoulder. Curious, he turned to see what she was looking at. The only thing of any interest in her line of sight appeared to be a uniformed officer leading a visitor across the room, and he turned back around wondering if that's what she had been staring at or if he'd missed whatever it was. "Uh, Eames?"
She blinked, pulling her eyes back to him. "Yeah?"
"You zoned out."
"Oh, uh, sorry. There was this gorgeous . . . uh, never mind," she interrupted herself, thinking better of talking to her partner like he was one of her girlfriends. "Were you saying something?"
"No, you were. You kind of faded out."
Before she could answer that, a throat cleared from behind her. Automatically, Goren looked up and Eames turned around in her chair, where they found Deakins standing with the man who had been crossing the room a few seconds ago. "You guys got a lead," the captain told them, nodding toward the stranger. "Talk to him. Thanks, son," he added, patting the man's shoulder jovially as he turned to leave.
Eames stared, she couldn't help herself. Standing in front of her was one of the most beautiful men she'd ever seen. Inky black hair and piercing blue eyes with eyelashes that would make a model jealous adorned his classically handsome face, and the black turtleneck and trousers he was wearing only accentuated the fact that he was tall - as tall as Goren, maybe taller - and well-built.
Watching her with an expression that told her her reaction wasn't unusual, the man nodded to her. "You're Detective Eames, I assume?"
"Uh, yeah," she managed, trying to force herself fully back into reality. " And that's my partner, Goren. You need to talk to us?" she added after a second, gesturing across the desks to Goren.
"Yes." He started to sit down in the chair that sat to the side of their desks, then stopped himself. "I'm sorry; I didn't give you my name. Dr. Chris Hammond," he offered, holding out his hand to her and then to Goren.
"Well, have a seat, Dr. Hammond." Goren had to be getting a kick out of seeing her go soft like this, she thought as she shook the newcomer's hand and gestured him to the chair. If she got one iota of flack from her partner later . . . well, she'd get her revenge. "How can we help you?"
"Actually, I'm hoping I can help you," he said, giving them a pleasant smile. "I saw on the news that there was another woman killed. Is that right?"
Sighing, Eames nodded. "They certainly don't waste any time broadcasting this stuff anymore. Yes, there was another murder, but I'm sure you can understand that we can't release any more facts than that."
"Her name was Maria White?"
Eames glanced at Goren, silently ordering him to field the question while she studied the man.
"We can't confirm or deny that, sir," Goren said evenly. "What was it you needed to talk to us about?"
"I'm sorry," Hammond said, looking appropriately abashed. "It's habitual. I tend to exhaust a line of questioning before I feel I can move on. Uh, I'm a psychiatrist," he said, noticing their looks of confusion. "I guess you could say it's an occupational hazard. But anyway . . . have you connected the victims yet?"
The two detectives exchanged mildly incredulous looks, wondering where this man had come from. "What makes you ask that?" Goren finally said warily.
Hammond laughed. "It's fairly common knowledge that serial killers pick victims who appear to be totally random but often aren't. Which is why I asked if you hadconnected them yet. Because if you haven't . . . I think I might be able to supply the link."
Goren crossed his arms and gave the man a politely skeptical look. "Such as?"
"There are five doctors in my practice, and Elizabeth and Maria were both patients there. Leah worked for us part-time."
"You think the connection is your psychology practice?" Eames asked.
"Psychiatry," Hammond corrected mildly. "And it would appear to be a viable possibility, don't you think?"
"Were Elizabeth and Maria patients of the same doctor?" Goren countered, vaguely irked by the man's self-possession.
"No, they saw two different ones. But I'm sorry, but I can't give you the names of the doctors. I'd go to HIPAA hell," he added jokingly. "Not to mention the ethics issue."
"We understand," Eames said, chuckling dutifully. "How about you give us the name of your practice and some contact information, and we'll take the legal route in?"
"I -"
"Goren!" Deakins called from across the room, startling all three of them. "Get over here. Myers needs your opinion on a profile."
Not pleased at having to leave before the interview ended, he glanced at his partner, hoping she'd somehow veto the captain's order, but she just grinned and waved him away. "Go help the guy, Bobby. I've got things covered here. We're almost done anyway."
"Ok." As he stood, he nodded to the doctor. "Thanks for this information, Dr. Hammond. It could turn out to be very useful."
"I would hope so," Hammond replied with a slight smile as Goren turned and headed across the room. "He's . . . unusual," he said, turning back to Eames when Goren was out of sight. "Is he always like that?"
"Yep," she said with a grin. "You get used to it. So, the name of your practice . . .?"
