Mr. Black was now present. She knew it wasn’t Victor talking, but she still lowered her eyes to hide her hurt.
“What the hell do you want to know?” he barked as he threw his hands up and paced in front of her.
“Who made you like this?”
He walked forward, stopping in front of her and gripped her chin, forcing her head back. “No one made me like this, Eight. I was born like this.”
God, she detested being called a number. It was so impersonal and cold. He had to know that. “I don’t believe that.”
Backing away, he glared at her scornfully. “I already told you once; I don’t give a fuck what you think.”
“I don’t believe that either,” she pushed her chin out.
His jaw muscle quivered. “Again with your audacity?”
“Was it Chapter One?” She wasn’t really sure why had asked the question, but by the look on his face, she knew she had hit a nerve.
He stood motionless in the middle of the room with his hands fisted at his sides as a tense silence enveloped the room. Even though he didn’t speak, Elsa knew that the answer was a resounding yes.
“You’re a lying cunt,” he quickly changed the subject.
“Stop calling me that!” she yelled, catching him off guard and causing him to back away from her. “You really are a hypocrite! You told me that if I was going to lie then to make it believable, so I did!” She stood and rushed at him. “You’re pissed because the tables got turned, aren’t you?” she hollered and pounded her fists on his chest. “I played your game the way you designed it and now I’m going to be punished for it?”
“Yes, you are,” he gripped her wrists to rein her in and spun her around, pinning her wrists behind her back and rendering her immobile.
She began to sob when he forced her to her knees. “I just wanted to know the real Victor. I just wanted…” she dropped her chin to her chest, letting her hair fall in her face to hide her despair. “I just wanted to know the real Victor.”
“Then you will, Peach,” he leaned down and whispered into her ear.
Roughly, he pushed her away from him making her fall onto her stomach. Elsa rose up and looked over her shoulder to see him digging into his briefcase. When he approached her, he had an old, worn and tattered, black-leather bound journal. She hadn’t seen this one before. Tossing it on the floor in front of her face, she touched it and peered questioningly at him.
What she saw next sent panic rioting through her. Slowly he began removing his belt, but by the look on his face, it wasn’t going to be used to bind her.
“Victor…” she pleaded as she tried to crawl away.
“Call me that one more time, Eight, and see what happens,” he growled as he grabbed a handful of her hair and halted her movements. “You want to know who I am and what started all this? Then your wish is my command. Read,” he snapped the leather belt on the floor next to her.
Fear and anxiety knotted inside of her and for a split second, she thought she would vomit.
Elsa rose to her knees and reached for the journal and opened it to the first page as she tried to keep her fragile control in check.
Herein contain the notes of Victor Laurenzo, Special Agent for the FBI and criminal profiler.
I have been tasked with my first big case and the intention of this journal is to document my feelings and thoughts as it progresses so that they can be clearly defined later if necessary.
Elsa looked up at Mr. Black, not understanding what exactly she was reading. The snap of leather startled her and she dropped the journal.
“Read it out loud. Every time you hesitate or stop, you’ll meet the real Victor.”
Although his statement was veiled, there was no ambiguity in its meaning. He intended to whip her. The thought filled her with disturbing images and she began to shake. She hated pain. She reached a quaking hand out and reopened the journal to begin reading aloud.
The case in question is file #23249 regarding the murder of two individuals who are not related or connected in any way other than being suspected of being killed by the same perpetrator. It’s an interesting case and one I’m lucky to be involved in. I look forward to being able to stretch my wings and really learn from the other agents and detectives involved. I genuinely believe that this will be an excellent learning experience. I digress.
Murder victim #1: A 32-year-old husband and father of three, Gerald McKinney.
Method of homicide: Strangulation.
Thoughts: It was personal. Perhaps sexual asphyxiation? Will note more on this as more facts are available.
Particulars: Staged murder scene. Clean. Killer has clearly done this before or at least done their homework. No forensics to speak of regarding traceable DNA. Loose clothing fibers found linked to victim #2. See below.
Murder victim #2: Jonathan Gonzalez, Age 24, university student majoring in Pre-Law.
Method of homicide: Jugular artery laceration leading to exsanguination.
Thoughts: Again, personal.
Particulars: Pattern of blood spatter consistent with no struggle, patient in resting position. Unique, red clothing fibers found at the scene and identified to be that of a scarf sold only in the Virginia Beach, Virginia vicinity. Only 1000 units of this particular scarf were manufactured and sold exclusively at a small custom boutique at the Virginia Beach oceanfront.
Suspect 1:
Scarlett Greenwood, Age 29, Law Student
Elsa reread the name to herself. It was vaguely familiar, though she couldn’t place it. It was hard to miss the hopeful tone of the journal and Elsa wondered how old Victor was when all this happened. She paused to read the name again, trying to jog her memory when she felt the sting of the leather. The pain scorched across her back and she dropped the journal again as she screamed out.
My God, he was serious about whipping her. Raw and primitive fear jolted her system and her self-preservation instincts kicked in. It was fight or flight time and she knew she couldn’t hold a candle to Mr. Black. Instantly she jumped to her feet and bolted toward the door, not giving a damn if she was clothed or not. Mr. Black was quick on her heels and grabbed a handful of her hair at the nape her neck and dragged her back.
Shoving her down in front of the journal, he growled deeply, “You wanted to know everything, so fucking read!”
Elsa sucked back her tears and wiped her eyes. How the hell could’ve she have allowed this to happen? Fear of what Mr. Black was capable of held her immobile and with a shaky voice, she steadied her hands the best she could and continued.
I had the pleasure of meeting Ms. Greenwood during a basic interrogation of several suspects. I hesitate to use the term ‘suspect’ so frivolously with this high-profile case. Perhaps a more appropriate term is ‘person of interest.’ She answered all questions without hesitation and appeared to be comfortable in her surroundings, despite the intense line of questioning. She was linked to Mr. Gonzalez by association only. She is a late, fourth-year student majoring in Law.
Elsa read until her throat was dry, but kept her eyes trained to the journal. She had no idea why she was reading the mundane writings of Special Agent Victor Laurenzo. On the occasion that she would take her eyes away from the journal to look up, Mr. Black was seated on the duchess chair looking out the window pensively with a pained expression on his face. Surely he could sense the loss of the optimistic and bright-eyed, young man he once was. Elsa didn’t know him then, but even she missed him.