[b]Part II[/b]

>WHITE TREE, WEST VIRGINIA
>ROAD TO ANNIE'S TAVERN...///

“Roy and I are taking a break. You can find us at Annie’s Tavern.” Foster’s voice came through the speaker of Donnelley’s phone.

“We managed to get the Sheriff’s number.” Donnelley said, hoping that was good news at least.

“Yeah? Wasn’t there?”

“Vacation.” Donnelley glanced at Laine, “Indeterminate period.”

“Huh.” Foster paused just long enough for Donnelley to wonder if the shitstorm was winding up to pound him in the ass, “What an asshole.”

“[i]Right?[/i] We’ll get to you.” Donnelley hung the phone up and stuffed it back in his pocket. There was a mental sigh of relief. Before long he and Laine were turning into another parking lot. Thankfully, there weren’t any Sheriff’s cruisers here, just a lot of empty parking spaces and one unmarked Dodge Interceptor. Most likely Detective Roy’s.

Laine stepped out of the Chrysler, smoothing down her skirt then her hair, bending briefly to check her makeup in the side view mirror. Roy would be their best bet in information, if she was any better than the receptionist deputy. It was still early to hit up a tavern but there was not exactly a plethora of choices of restaurants in White Tree. 

"I think we need a game plan this time," Laine suggested. "Have you met this detective yet?"

Donnelley moaned out a stretch and scratched at the back of his head, “Briefly.” He began, scanning the area around the parking lot. It reminded him of his childhood. And that was not a good thing.

 It was barren. White Tree looked like a town toeing the boundary between ghetto and graveyard. A dog that looked to have been surviving off of garbage was sniffing at its next rotten meal- roadkill of some sort. A gaggle of teens was the next to greet his eye, one flashing a middle finger and another craning his head to spit a gob of phlegm with impressive distance in his and Laine’s direction.

Stubborn grass and weeds jutted up from cracks in the pavement uncaring to the teens’ fading laughter, and there was no shortage of them. A cold wind blew and Donnelley shook his head. “She’s directly under us- er, the Bureau on this case. We’ll let Foster fill us in. I’m thinking she’ll be happy to share anything to get the fucker skinning people.” He sighed, looking back to Laine and nodding at the Tavern, “Come on.”

Laine resisted the temptation to return the salute, reminding herself when she was a teen and her friends were assholes to anyone over the age to buy beer. She went along with Donnelley, avoiding the cracks in the pavement. 

[I]Step on a crack, break your mother's back.[/I]

Or her ankle, besides she had broken her mother's heart enough times to spare her back. 

The Tavern seemed to be the most welcoming place in the whole of White Tree. Like some metaphor, then, it had to have been empty of any patrons save for an old, scabby-knuckled man mooning into his glass at the far end of the bar. On the other side of it, a woman waved, smiling in such a homely and welcoming manner that was juxtaposed by the town around her. “Heya. What brings you here?”

“Our friends.” Donnelley said, and the woman pointed over to a booth in the corner with Detective Roy, Foster leaned out and waved them over. As Donnelley began his walk, his eyes almost didn’t believe there could be a place like this. It looked like any dive bar in any city. The lights were dim, accented by ropes of Christmas lights along the walls glowing red. Pictures of the very old glory days of White Tree hung there next to them.

Finally, Donnelley and Laine got to the booth. Foster slid out and offered Laine and Donnelley the space where he was sitting and slid back next to Roy, folding his fingers in front of him as he watched the pair sit. “Detective, you’ve met John Davidson with the Bureau.” Foster smiled, and gestured to Laine, “This is Doctor Laine with the Bureau’s Behavior Analysis Unit, she’s going to help us in identifying the bodies and hopefully profiling the murderer.”

“Nice to meet you, Doctor Laine.” Roy offered her hand out to the other woman.

Laine shook the detective's hand, giving her a polite smile as she said, "My pleasure, Detective. Thank you for your help. Nice to see you again, Agent Forrester."

She slid into the booth, letting Donnelley take the outside seat as he no doubt would be more comfortable not being trapped between her and the wall and have a view of the entrance. 

Laine glanced at what they were drinking then at the chalked menu on the wall. She was getting hungry after the spare early breakfast. As they settled in she asked Roy, "Do you mind catching me up, what was your take on the crime scene when you arrived?"

Roy took a drink of her beer, setting the glass clinking on the tabletop as she spoke, “NPS contacted the police about a dead body found in the woods. I never thought I’d see a body like that though.” She shook her head, “You see a lot of shit in White Tree, you know? Blackriver’s filled with tweakers and shit. But everything all made sense in the end, open and shut cases with the same perps. Easy motives and small crimes. Usually. This?”

She shook her head, “Anyway, I wasn’t the first responding officer. Had some uniforms on scene by the time I arrived, Deputies.”

Donnelley snorted despite himself. Roy just smirked at him knowingly, “They’d secured the scene and cordoned it off by the time I arrived. Fresh turned dirt and a completely skinless body. Thankfully it’s in Blackriver, or, well…” She held her hands up, pausing, “Not what I meant. I mean I’m glad the press aren’t here [i]because[/i] it’s Blackriver. Place is a fucking well of bad news. They’re the pustule on the face of West Virginia. Everybody wants to keep this place hush-hush.”

At her last words, she leaned in close, “I never told you that part. I don’t care [i]who[/i] asks.”

“Why?” Donnelley plainly asked, staring up from beneath his brow, head downturned and beckoning an explanation.

“Sometime later, alright?” Roy said.

“[i]Somewhere else.[/i]” Foster clarified. Donnelley knew he meant the Safehouse.

“[i]Anyways,[/i]” She drew the word out, looking each of them in the eye, “I called CSI to come down and take a look at things, some Troopers to keep tabs on everything. I needed that body moved or else maggots and rats‘d be chewing the evidence away. Thanks for that, by the way, getting it away from the scene.”

“I finally got the Okay to dig up the dirt and what do I find but bones? I don’t know how old they are but the body being placed there, the bones too?” Roy whistled, “Whatever this is, it’s been happening again and again, and again. Which makes me ask the question, where are all the missing persons reports from White Tree and the sister town, Mercy? And if they are coming in,” she leaned in again, “What the fuck is up with the radio silence from the Sheriff Department?”

“Probably on vacation at the time.” Donnelley quipped, not eager at all to let that bullshit go.

“Funny, but this is serious, Agent Davidson.” Roy sighed, looking away and shaking her head, “Fucking [i]Blackriver.[/i] It’s a black hole, a damn Bermuda Triangle for big cases. Either the County Sheriff’s is filled with incompetent fucks or...”

Roy’s face didn’t move, her head looking in the same direction though she fixed Laine with a sidelong stare, “What do you think?” She turned fully towards Laine, “You’re not from around here, you got a fresh perspective. What do you think?”

Dr Laine picked at the edge of a cardboard coaster, fraying the water warped paper as she listened intently to what Roy said and didn’t say. She pushed her glasses up and met the detective’s gaze. “I think that there is a possibility Blackriver runs deep. I am used to getting the cold shoulder from locals, feds tend to invite that when we step into other agency’s territory but it’s more than just the absent sheriff and stink eyes from deputies. I can’t explain it other than a feeling and unfortunately a gut feeling isn’t scientific so it doesn’t go into my report.”

She paused, tapping the coaster on the table a few times then added, “I’m from LA, about as far from a town like White Tree on the map and in custom and flavor but there is something in common. If you look past the traffic and concrete LA isn’t much but a bunch of small towns jammed together. People are clannish and territorial, defensive about where they are from. They keep to their own, whether it’s race or culture. They don’t trust authority. Cracking into that defensive wall is something we have to do, people will protect the worst of criminals if they view them as one of their own.” 

“That’s my take on it, if this is a small town with a bad reputation that might be hiding crimes and criminals we have to figure out a way to get people to cooperate somehow or we’ll never get the truth. Badges might not mean much here so we have to find what does.”

Her eyes flicked to Foster then went back to Roy, “There’s a lot of work to do, we have a medical examiner coming down to autopsy the body and check out the bones if you could send them over to Dr. Levy’s. After that we’ll get them and the other evidence sent to CJIS in Clarksburg.  I want to know who around here likes to skin their own kills or does taxidermy. And if you say you’re not hearing about people missing in Blackriver, then it's a good chance they’re not from here. We need to spread the net further and it’s going to take a lot of leg work and man hours.”

Leaning back, Laine dropped the coaster and said, “Until we learn something about the victims we won’t know anything about a suspect.”

“Speaking of the medical examiner,” Donnelley checked the time on his phone, “When did you say he was getting here? We should meet him at the Doc’s place.”

Laine pulled her own phone out and sent a quick text, giving Bakker the address and an ETA inquiry. Her phone blinked and she checked the text, "He's about to twenty minutes out. We should probably get back there, I don't want him greeted by the Bolshevik revolutionary."

"It was nice to meet you, Detective Roy, we'll call you once the autopsy is done," she said, then gave Donnelley a slight nudge to exit the booth. 
 
...///

“That explains a few things, don’t it?” Donnelley muttered to Laine, his mind busy with the events of today and in Iraq, could they really even be related? “Backwoods town full of bullshit. Dime a dozen, sure, but this is a special type of bullshit.”

The car sped down the road out of White Tree, Donnelley eyeing a Sheriff’s cruiser parked across the street from White Tree’s broken down town sign. He sighed, shaking his head, “All cops are bastards.” He snorted, smirking ruefully before he shot a glance to Laine, “Not you, though.”

Laine glanced out at the cruiser as they passed and chuckled at his statement. ACAB. She turned away from the window, a slight curled smile on her lips. "I appreciate it," she said dryly, removing her glasses to clean the lens on her skirt. 

As they approached the doctor's office she could see that they had beat Dr Bakker though she expected to see his Subaru pull up any minute. Laine sighed inwardly, she should have just driven to Clarksburg in her own car. At least she would have her emergency out of town gear rather than just a change of business casual clothes that was in her bag. 

When they pulled into the parking spot, she asked, "How long do you think we'll be here?" 

“Levy’s or White Tree?” Donnelley rose a brow at Laine as he opened his door, “Because, either way, we’re here for as long as this whole thing takes.”

He smirked, then looked at her with a bit of curiosity, “Why?”

She sighed, rolling her eyes at her own mismanagement. "Because I rushed up here and didn't think about packing. I only have an overnight change of clothes and nothing I can wear if we end up in the woods."

“Oh.” Donnelley bit his lip, “Well, we can head to Charleston or some bigger town for clothes. Tonight?” Donnelley shrugged, “Been meaning to go into town anyways. I’ve been wanting a drink in a place where I’m not looking over my shoulder. I’d drink in White Tree but I don’t usually put one on in the workplace.”

Laine brightened, "Good idea, then I'll be ready to rock once the others get here. We should probably get some stuff for the cabin, unless you want to be eating from whatever greasy spoon they have every day." 

She stepped out, then used her hip to shut the car door. "When you say put one on, are you asking me to be the designated driver?"

“Nah, I drive better when I’m drunk.” Donnelley smirked, “If only you knew how many times I’ve found my way home while falling asleep at the wheel.”

Laine shook her head, "Not this time, make sure you give me the keys before diving into the whiskey bottle. Just in case, not that I don't trust your intoxication fortitude."

She walked around the front of the car, facing him. "Besides, do really want to trust your life in the hands of Hippy Lenin over here."

Donnelley clucked his tongue, taking a good look at the dilapidated Quonset hut, “Yeah, you got a point.” He chuckled, “And no pina colada for you? Maitai kind of girl?”

He joined Laine as they sided up to the door into Levy’s office. He rapped his knuckles against the door just as another car pulled into the driveway. He eyed the clean, sleek Subaru with a healthy amount of caution, assuming his position of casually resting his hands on his hips in easy access to his handgun. “That him?” He glanced at Laine, hoping it was a ‘yes.’

"I like getting caught in the rain," she shrugged then grinned at her own cheesy joke then sobered when she saw the later model Subaru Outback pulling up. "Yes, that's Alex."

Laine waved casually at him as the car turned off and a tall man with reddish blonde hair and a well trimmed beard scruff stepped out. He was dressed casually in gray slacks and blazer, his black t-shirt beneath the jacket snug enough to reveal a lean fit physique. He returned her wave but looked at Donnelley with an air of suspicion. 

"The cavalry has arrived," Bakker said, flashing a brief grin as he took out his bag from the backseat. It was a military style duffle bag, dark blue with the yellow block letters "FBI" emblazoned across. 

When he approached, Laine glanced at Donnelley unsure for a moment, then said,"This is Special Agent ...John Davidson. John, this is Dr Alex Bakker, our medical examiner."

The eye of suspicion was not lost on Donnelley and he gave a look of his own at the younger buck sizing him up from the safety of his car. He mentally rolled his eyes and frowned at Bakker’s precious dimples. In the end, he offered his hand out for a shake when Laine’s Doctor neared them, “Pleased to meet you, Doctor Bakker. Thank you for coming on short notice. You’re highly recommended by Doctor Laine.” He did a little sizing up of his own, remaining stone-faced even though the urge to smirk was powerful, “I know you must be highly sought after and very important, so we’re very lucky to have you here.”

Before Bakker could respond, Donnelley turned his shoulder on him, rapping his knuckles on the door and jerking back as Levy’s face appeared in the open doorway, “I heard the first time! Come in!”

She left the three of them standing in the doorway. Donnelley was first to grab the initiative and gesture to the bodybag as he stepped inside. He crossed his arms and leaned against a counter, “Found this morning. Trust me, it’s not every day you see this.”

Bakker narrowed his eyes slightly at the compliments but then relaxed, it was all true after all. Laine waved him inside as he followed Donnelley, then nodded at Dr Levy, "Thank you for letting us use your facility. 

He tried not to grimace at the medical exam room that had not been updated since the Clinton administration. Bakker sniffed then looked at the body bag, apparently no freezer here either. "Right, we'll see. This isn't the first time I've worked on mutilated victim."

Laine gave Donnelley a side eye glance before unzipping the heavy plastic bag, exposing the skinned corpse. 

"[I]Jesus[/I]," Bakker whispered hoarsely, staring into the empty sockets and rictus grin of the skinned corpse.

He pulled his latex gloves on and opened up  the bag, examining closely the exposed muscles and tendons, the pockets of fatty tissue on the chest and hips indicated her femininity but he would verify. 

"Heather, do you mind setting up? Get my recorder going," he said, then glanced at her. "Please."

Laine bit back a retort about his kindergarten teacher fiance teaching him the magic word. This was not a time for petty. "Sure thing," she said, setting up the portable tray with swabs and sample jars, putting labels on each. 

As Bakker started the exam, he addressed Donnelley, "Agent Davidson, where was she found exactly?"

He used a scalpel to gently pry away a bit of dirt and debris stuck to the caked blood and put it in an evidence bag. "Signs of it being the murder scene?"

He caught Bakker’s use of Laine’s first name. No matter how friendly he and Laine were being in the past few months, personal calls and… he looked at his hand for a moment before returning his gaze to watching Bakker and Laine at work. No matter any of that, he didn’t use Laine’s first name. Odd, sure, but why the hell did any of it matter. The thought occurred to him, cutting off any runaway thoughts. He focused on Bakker as he made to answer him.

“It was up in them mountains.” Donnelley jerked his thumb in no particular direction, “No excessive blood spatter being found at the scene leads me to believe that she’d been killed somewhere else. Bones under recently turned earth might point to it being some kind of storage place for display.”

Donnelley frowned at the woman on the table, “This is ritualistic for this guy. He takes the time to skin her, leave her out for the scavengers and then returns to bury whatever’s left.” He shrugged, “Some heavy conjecture, but I think he wanted it to be seen by people. It was close enough to a trail that a Park Ranger could spot it with a little detouring.”

After all, why had Anzor been doing it in Iraq? Keeping up appearances that the Islamic Caliphate was still fighting and more fearsome and brutal than ever? But what was this lone wolf after in Blackriver then? He shook his head ever so slightly, recognizing his warping the narrative to fit two very tangentially related crimes to the other. He looked to Bakker again, “That good enough?”

Dr Bakker nodded, not looking up. "She was killed elsewhere, probably where her skin is assuming no mention of it means you didn't find it. As for the rest of your conjecture I leave that to the Behavioral department."

He gestured with a tilt of his head towards Laine. 

Laine stepped in quickly and said, "I was wondering if the killer didn't just get interrupted before he could finish whatever he does with them before burial. Maybe he heard the sound of the park ranger or something else spooked him off but leaving her for scavengers...that's something to think about. Display for purpose or was this an interrupted scene."

"If Dr Levy has a portable X-ray machine I want to get some shots before cutting into her," Bakker said, "I'll do the rape kit now."

Laine set out the prelabeled plastic jars and swabs. "It's hard to tell what sort of trauma she's had."

"Mmhmm," Bakker replied absently, "Contusion and anything other than a superficial dermal trauma will show on the muscles, just not as colorful. Time of death will be a little more tricky but I think I can get you a good estimate."

Donnelley sighed, getting the message. He carefully made his way to the door separating Doctor Levy and them, softly knocking on the wood. Before long, Levy was staring him in the face, “Yes, what?”

“I was wondering, uh,” Donnelley folded his arms, “Do you have an X-Ray machine?”

The way Levy rolled her eyes and disappeared behind the door wasn’t enough for Donnelley to be sure if she did or didn’t have one. Although, to his relief, she opened the door and dragged yet another relic from the past along with her. The big machine sat where Levy left it while she stalked off back into the smoke-filled, skunky backroom. “I guess she does.” Donnelley said, looking the thing up and down. He turned his attention to Bakker, “How long will this all take? Results and whatever.”

Dr Bakker looked up from his exam, his beard now covered with a paper mask. "The x-rays not long, even veterinarian offices have capability to develop their own x-rays, hopefully she does too."

By his tone Laine could tell he was less than impressed with Levy, this town and the whole situation but he was here and that is what mattered. 

"A proper autopsy will take about two hours, maybe longer because I have to ..." He gestured around the room, "Make do."

Laine shook her head, "Spoiled."

"Maybe," he said, his eyes crinkling slightly in a hidden grin.

She went to stand with Donnelley, giving him a small nudge glancing up to meet his eyes. "Want to hang around?"

Laine gave him an apologetic smile, Bakker could be insufferable when indisposed, it was his clinical mind. He was organized to a fault and inflexible at times. She should know. 

Donnelley frowned intently, not exactly finding anything better to do with his time. He would only report back to Foster if he asked for it, so he shrugged, nodded. “Sure.” He said, “My schedule’s pretty open. Gonna have a smoke first though.”

Bakker ignored them, focused on the examination of the skinned body, peering between her legs as he cranked the speculum open. He paused, then took his pen light, peering into her vaginal cavity. “Well...that is something,” he said in a low voice, “Bring your camera, you’ll want to get pictures.” 

He stepped back, “Vaginal trauma, rectovaginal fistula consistent with violent rape or...”

Bakker paused and peered down with the light, “Huh, looking at the cuts they’re tearing but not in the direction of insertion. A traumatic birth?”

He was almost talking to himself as he moved so Laine could take what pictures she could. Bakker stepped back in, taking swabs of the cervix and external region. Doubtful anything was left if her skin was gone but he would not take a chance at missing evidence in such a horrific murder. “I’m going to get her open and we’ll check that uterus.” 

Laine could see the tears, ugly things like a cat clawing up furniture and she winced as she took photos, the raw flesh made even worse with the injuries. She retreated back and nodded, “I think I’ll step out for a smoke, too. Unless you need me.” 

Bakker looked over at her, noting the even paler face than usual. Laine was no beginner but the sight was even hard for seasoned agents. “Sure, I’ll be fine. Just routine right now, I’ll come get you if I find anything unusual.”

Laine grabbed her cloves out of the jacket pocket and stepped outside, camera still in hand. She stuck a black cigarette between her lips and breathed out, “Shit, someone did a number on her inside.” 

She reached for her lighter and realized it was inside the other pocket and turned to Donnelley, “Light?”

Donnelley’s eyebrows rose at that, though his mouth was busy sucking in a lungful of nicotine. He breathed in sharp, hissing through closed teeth before he blew it. He stuck a hand in his pocket for his lighter and offered it out to Laine, “Jesus.” Donnelley shook his head, smirking at the odd bit of comedy yet to come, “A real jerk, this guy.”

Lighting it, she inhaled deeply, “Looked like a cat clawed its way out. Or in, I don’t know yet.” 

At his comment she glanced at him then sighed, “He’s just...focused. He likes things just so and having to rush out here probably made him cranky. He’s great in his lab, not happy about the conditions. He’ll get over it once he’s elbow deep in a corpse.” 

She smoked hard, the embers crickling in the familiar way then breathed out the fragrant smoke, feeling the cloves begint to numb her throat. “I think I might have a drink or two tonight. Just enough, I’ll still drive. Hear anything from the team yet?” 

Another sharp inhale and he blew the smoke out, shaking his head, “Nope. But I don’t expect them to be available within the hour. We’ve all got jobs, we’ve all got bosses that need lying to. Some bosses harder than others, maybe.”

“And I meant the killer, you know, being the jerk.” He smirked at Laine and took another drag, “Bakker is good, I trust you on that. He’s our best bet. And for that I’ll forgive him that [i]stupid fucking look[/i] on his face when he looked at me.” Donnelley chuckled, sounding more like a growl than anything. “He can be however he wants as long as he gets us results.”

"Oh, well, yes. I'd probably use a stronger term," Laine muttered, her face flushing at the mistake.

They stood outside for awhile, smoking and waiting as time ticked by. Laine finished her cigarette and snubbed it out on the concrete. “You know  your theory is solid as any. I was thinking about it, you might be right. I figured at first an interrupted crime but since she was killed elsewhere and brought there then maybe she was put on some sort of display. Ritual is a strong indication here, especially with the other bones. If they were killed in similar ways, it’ll make a stronger case for that. But to what purpose to leave her out for the scavengers unless it was just her skin he was after...but he didn’t just bury her, he left her...”

Laine trailed off, running the ideas over in her head and thumbed the top of the box of Djarums.

The door swung open and Dr Bakker stepped out, his dark blue eyes wide as he peered down at them,and he jerked his head, “You’ll want to see this.” 

Against the light boxes was an x-ray of the chest cavity, and Bakker pointed out a dark vaguely triangular shape beyond the pale rib cage and the heart. “Foreign object still in there, I’m going to dig it out but first look at this.” 

Jane Doe lay on the table, now not just skinned but cut open from throat to pubis, laid open with her organs exposed. Bakker quickly stepped back over to the body and used his forceps to point out the damage. “Her uterus was punctured and scraped, like the worst botched abortion but it kept going. Look, through the diaphragm and across the lung to the heart.  Massive internal trauma would be the cause of death, much of the blood is gone as well.” 

With the forceps he pinched the lung tissue and lifted it, showing a jagged tear then did the same with the aorta. “Hemorrhaging would have occured and death would have been fairly quick. Now, let’s see if we can find that piece.” 

Incising into the heart, he asked Laine to hold the clamps so he could fish out the object. She did, as well as holding her breath as Bakker used the forceps to fish around. 

“Got it,” he announced, gently pulling loose the three inch long black shard. It was not metal as one might expect from shrapnel and Bakker held it up to the light. “Obsidian?” 

Laine stared at it, her blood running cold as she saw no light filter through the thin sharp edges, no light reflected on it’s invisible angles. Just a sliver of black void clutched by the forceps. It reminded her of the stone that Sofie Childress’ lifeless body had been draped across. She shook her head and then looked towards Donnelley, her eyes wide behind her glasses. 

"Not only this," Bakker said, moving to put the shard into an evidence bag, staring at it for a long moment before shaking his head sharply like a dog with a flea. "Ah, what was it... oh right, look at the X-ray of her skull. Her tongue is gone. Snipped right out, nice and neat. I'm going to inspect further as I continue but I..."

His gaze turned back to the infinite blackness of the piece in the bag. "I thought you'd want to know the cause of death."

“Fuck…” Donnelley breathed, his eyes were troubled at the sight of the shard. There was now no doubting it for him. This killer was leaving these bodies out there as a ritual. But she hadn’t been hacked apart or brutally cut open like Afghanistan or Washington, no, just very surgically dismantled. He swallowed hard as he stared into the little hole in the world that was contained in the evidence bag.

Finally, he ripped his eyes away, clearing his throat with a nervous tick of his eyes about the room. “This fucking guy has to be viewing this as some sort of ritual.” He shook his head, folding his arms to keep Laine or Bakker oblivious to the fact his hands were shaking. “Was that all so far?”

Laine stared at the disaster that was the woman’s insides and shuddered at the thought of agony. She had seen death in many forms but this was probably the worst dehumanizing desecration of a human body she had witnessed. “Did it go in or come out?”

Bakker shrugged slightly, “It looks like it came out but honestly I can’t say for certain yet. How it got in there, I don’t know. Not yet, I’ll need to finish then I can tell you more.”

He paused, his stern expression of professionalism cracking slightly as he gazed at the corpse. “This is bad. Whoever did this...” 

Swallowing hard, he then excused himself, “I’m going to the john, I’ll be back to finish up.” 

Laine and Donnelley were left in the room and she looked at him. “Bad is an understatement isn’t it?” 

She could see in his expression the concern, more than just the morbid discovery. This was ritual, this was driven with a dark purpose that would be repeated until the man was stopped. And the likelihood was that it was a man, nearly all serial murderers were men and all who did mutilation and savagery like this were male. And the villages Donnelley had spoke of. Whole villages skinned and displayed. 

“This is no copycat, ” she admitted, then rubbed a hand against the back of her neck, feeling the tense cords there. “Ritualized killing and display, skillful not sloppy. Rage, a lot of anger, I think to do that sort of damage but controlled in a manner. I'll have to wait until the final report to make a more thorough analysis, plus the victim's race and age."

Her gaze returned to Donnelley and she fell silent. There were no words from Donnelley either, just a picture of a man with arms crossed and a bearded frown, brows furrowed in concern.

He wondered if this was done all at once. Or carried out in sections. He wondered which possibility was worse. Imagining the girl’s pain, her anguish. How she might call out for her mother or father, beg for mercy. His mind flashed to Holly in that position like something in his brain was trying to hurt him. It worked. His frown deepened and he opened his mouth to say something. He shut it again and took his moment before finally speaking, “I’m killing this man.”

He left that out on the air, “We aren’t in the business of prosecuting.” He shook his head, all the while staring at the cadaver that was once alive and held smiles and laughter and love at one point, “I’m killing this man.”

Laine pressed her lips tight, knowing how he felt. A person who could do this would never be rehabilitated, there was no reason for them to be left alive.this was not an FBI case, the rules changed under UMBRA and she had no way to insist on taking the suspect alive. Except one. 

“Not until I get information out of him,” she said firmly, meeting his blue eyes. He turned his gaze on her then, their eyes suspended on the other. He said nothing, just turned and left.