Page 13 of Girl, Unmasked
‘Maybe you could start a sex line and we could be the operators.’
‘Funny.Do you know how many cases Behavioral worked last year?’
‘Twelve,’ Ella said.
‘Yes, twelve.Violent Crimes handled over three hundred, and I think your talents could be better utilized across a broader spectrum of cases.’
‘We're profilers,’ Ella said.‘Behavioral analysts.It's what we're trained for.’
‘And I still want you as behavioral analysts.Serial killers are becoming extinct, but excessively violent crime is on the rise.Single homicides with extreme violence.Torture murders.Crimes that shock the conscience but don't fit the serial pattern.'
Ripley shifted her weight.'So you want us to be homicide detectives.'
‘I want you to be what you’ve always been.The Behavioral Analysis Unit as it currently exists is a relic.Two agents waiting around for the next Bundy or Dahmer while dozens of equally horrific murders go unsolved because they don't fit your mandate.'
'Our mandate has served the Bureau pretty well,' Ella said.
'Has it?Tell me, Agent Dark, how many people died last year in single-incident homicides that exhibited extreme violence or unusual signatures?'
She knew he already had the answer.This was a performance, not a conversation.'Over eight-hundred.'
'Eight hundred and forty-three.That's just the ones we know about.The ones weird enough or brutal enough that local PD reached out for help.Help we couldn't give because our behavioral experts were focused exclusively on pattern crimes.'
‘That’s not true,’ Ella said.‘There’ve been plenty of cases we’ve investigated that begun as a single homicide and then progressed to serial status.Edis had a way of sniffing those cases out, and then he handed them over to us.’
‘No, Edis had a way of helping out his friends.He even admitted it himself.If a sheriff from his old days was in too deep, he’d send you two in on horseback.I can’t blame Edis for doing that, but it’s not how we should operate.’
Ella thought back to two weeks ago, how Edis had given her a signed affidavit to meet Austin Creed in prison.It had been his parting gift to her, and now she understood why.The new regime would never pull anything like that, it seemed.
Ripley was pacing now, edging closer to the door.‘So what, you just dismantle the BAU?A division that’s been here since the eighties?’
‘I’m talking about evolution.Instead of the BAU, I want an Ultra-Violent Crime Unit.You’ll still profile, but instead of waiting for official serial status, you’ll engage from victim number one.’
Ella could see the logic, even if she hated it.More cases meant more lives potentially saved.But it also meant losing what made the BAU special.‘Sir, I see your point, but what about genuine serial cases?’
‘That stays the same.How does that sound?’
'It sounds dumb,' Ripley said flatly.'What you're describing is pooling our success stats with other divisions that aren't performing as well.It's like a group exercise in school where one kid does all the work and everyone gets an A.We get a high solve rate because we’re selective.You want us to water that down by having us chase every garden variety psycho?'
‘Not every psycho.The right psychos.Take this, for example.This was shoved in my face first thing this morning, before I’d even been officially given the job.Forgive me for not having much time to dissect it.’Vernon reached into a drawer and pulled out two manila folders.He slid them across the desk.Ella took hers, Ripley reluctantly following suit.'Under the current system, this would go to Violent Crimes, maybe get a consultation request if they're lucky.Under my system, it comes straight to you.'
Ella opened the folder and scanned the first page.The basics jumped out at her
VICTIM:Sophie Draper.
AGE:39.
LOCATION:Norwalk, Connecticut.
STATUS:DOA.
She flipped past the initial report to the crime scene photos and felt her breath catch in her throat.
The first image showed Sophie Draper kneeling on her living room floor, positioned in prayer with her elbows resting on a chair.
But prayer was too gentle a word for this obscenity.The woman's back had been flayed open from the base of her neck to her tailbone, and the skin had been peeled away and spread outward in two precise flaps.The exposed muscle and tissue glistened to create the illusion of wings, as if they'd been ripped from her body, leaving only the bloody evidence of where they'd once been attached.A crown of barbed wire had been forced onto her head, pressed deep enough that blood had run down her face in dark rivulets before drying.Her hands were clasped in front of her, held in place with what looked like fishing line wrapped around her wrists.
Ella forced herself to study the details professionally, but she couldn't stop the wave of empathy that crashed over her.This woman had a name, a life, probably a family wondering why she hadn't answered their calls.
