Page 57 of The Fragile Ones
Frantically, she wiped her hands on her thighs. Why was this happening now? Was it the pressure of the case? Was it because she felt backed into a corner? Whatever the trigger, Katie couldn’t continue to hammer the anxiety head-on. She had to stay in the moment and let it relinquish its hold on her. She realized too late that she hadn’t been working on the assignments that Dr. Carver had given her—in fact, she hadn’t been thinking about her panic attacks at all, and now she was running into problems again.
Pulling into a space, Katie sat straight with hands still on the steering wheel, engine running, and contemplated whether or not to leave or continue with her assignment. Breathing deep and slow, she began to feel her pulse slowing and returning to normal—at least close to it. Her head and vision felt better. But the incident left her realizing that she had underestimated herself. How many panic attacks had she been through? And every time she had managed to overcome it. She could, and would do it again.
Glancing in the rearview mirror, she smoothed her hair and stared at her reflection for several seconds before readying herself to interview Dr. Halverson. Color had returned to her cheeks and her eyes had cleared from their glassy appearance during the attack.
Katie grabbed her notebook and exited the car. The cool fall air sent a welcome chill through her overheated body, and the invigorating scent of pine was like medicine for the soul.
Breathe.
Katie hurried up the leafy walkway to the social sciences building. The campus was mostly deserted but for a few tardy students hustling into buildings at the last minute before class. Inside, Katie took the stairs, not feeling at ease enough to be trapped in an elevator. At the end of a long corridor, rounding a corner, she found a door labeled ‘B13 Halverson’.
She knocked three times and waited.
The door was opened by a striking woman in her thirties with dark hair slightly curled at her shoulders. She wore a beige suit with a vibrant jungle print blouse.
“Hello. Detective Scott?”
“Yes,” Katie replied. “You are Dr. Halverson.”
“Please call me Simone. Doctor sounds so clinical, like I belong in a hospital.” She opened the door to allow Katie to enter.
Katie found she liked her immediately, which was uncommon for her. The doctor was warm and friendly, and there was a caring quality about her. Her office was small but stylish and put Katie at ease.
“Please, Detective, have a seat,” she said, gesturing to one of the oversized comfortable chairs.
“Thank you,” said Katie, as Simone joined her in the other.
“I have to say, I was intrigued when I received your call.”
Katie quickly gathered her thoughts and began, knowing that time was running out on this case. “Everything I’m about to tell you is in the strictest confidence. Much of it isn’t public knowledge and I’d like to keep it that way for as long as I can. I need your help to solve a very unusual case.”
“Of course,” said Simone. “And I would never share what you’re going to tell me.”
“I’m looking for the killer of two little girls.”
Simone’s easygoing demeanor changed in an instant as her eyes filled with dismay.
“I won’t distress you with the details, but the reason why I’m here is that one of the girls has a series of numbers branded onto her scalp…372. I’ve never seen anything like this before. Tattoos, yes, but not actual branding—numbers burnt into the skin, similar to cattle branding.”
“Where is it?”
“It’s above the ear on the left side of her head.”
“I see. Would you have a photo?” she asked somberly.
“Uh, yes.” Katie pulled out her cell phone and searched her crime scene photos, handing her phone to Simone.
Dr. Halverson studied the image, enlarging it and moving it back and forth across the three numbers. After a few moments, she handed Katie back her phone.
“Have you ever seen anything like this before?” asked Katie.
“I have,” she said slowly.
Katie was taken aback.
“There are cultures, or rather sub-cultures like underground sex trafficking and prostitution, that use this branding method either to identify the child, or to brand them with something specific—meaning it represents something important for them. Mostly sex workers and Satanists.”
“The medical examiner estimated that the numbers had been there since before she was two years old. Is that typical?”
