Hello everyone. I've been away writing my book. The title is Profiler Family Ties on .
I have a new chapter ready to update on the story. Until then here's an excerpt from my book.
Alley on Minnesota Ave
Washington, DC.
May 6, 2012
10:05 PM
People do some crazy shit. This is the thought that runs through Marie's mind.
The body of a 23 year old street punk had been found in an alley. He'd gone by the name of "Polish Boy."
Damn I'm hungry, Marie thinks as she approaches the crime scene. The name alone makes her think of a big hot dog with fries, barbecue sauce and coleslaw.
"Not hungry anymore," she mumbles to herself as she looks down at the body. This particular sight had little to do with food unless you count the fingers that were dismembered from his hands; scattered like fries. The intestines that had been shredded like slaw, or the blood that smeared like sauce in every direction.
"Geez, who did you piss off."
"What you got for me San?"
"A big mess," said Forensic Medical Examiner Sandra Barcene.
"Is that a professional observation, or is this particular situation messing with the valve that opens and allows you to spit medical mumbo at will?"
Barcene looks at her with a twisted smile.
"You've been practicing. I bet you rehearsed that line all the way down here?"
"Nah, I was a comedian in my former life. So do I get it or what?"
"Okay," Barcene said, "Point."
"You're kidding me right?"
San and Marie look over at Jeff, Marie's partner Jefferey Brown, as he walks up.
"This guy is laying here" ….. he flails his arms about for emphasis, "and you two are doing the point thing?"
They both look at him and shrug.
"Ree is so far behind that every point counts," spouts San.
"I'm not that far behind," states Marie. "Think Grand Canyon," said San with a smile.
"Focus," said Jeff.
"Right. Single gunshot wound to the head, 9 mill cause of death. Everything else was done postmortem.
Time of death around 10:00 PM last night.
Fingers severed with what looks to be a large hunting knife. The intestines, well they were removed after he was gutted; then shot through a Presto 02970 Professional Salad Shooter®."
"How do you know that?" Jeff said.
Barcene looks at him with a "did you seriously just ask that question look?" He has the good grace to look ashamed for having questioned her competency.
"The killer left it behind," states Barcene pointing to the evidence already bagged.
"This wasn't random. He was targeted."
"Salad shooter, that's cold," said Jeff.
"Who found the body?" asked Marie.
"Mr. I wished I'd used the bathroom before I left the bar," the ME said pointing to a man trembling off to her far right. "Came back here to take a whiz and stumbled upon the body. Killer left behind a calling card."
Marie takes the sealed card from her hand and reads it:
To everything under the sun there is a time and place.
A time to be born.
A time to live.
A time to love and a time to die.
He was born.
He lived to 23 years of age.
He loved to make others afraid and helpless.
It was his time to die.
"Shit," said Marie. "Looks like we've got a serial killer," she said as she walks off.
"How the hell would she know that?" said Jeff. "That part about a serial killer?"
"Exactly how long have you been her partner?"
"Six months."
"Damn, most don't last that long. She has a way of weeding through partners."
He looks at her with a confused expression.
Barcene gives him a sorrowful look. "Dead or running away screaming. Best you suit up dude. I hope you have good track shoes, cause I sure as hell would hate to see you at my house with me trying to guess whether the lobster you ate for dinner was overpriced." She places a hand on his shoulder and turns back to the scene. "Everything back to the dungeon," she tells her people.
"Nike's® are a good brand," she looks back to him once again. "The inseam holds better than most for the extra bursts of speed." She gives him a final wave as she walks away.