Just the Truth

Chapter 3

Ok first of all, how the hell did you guys get this book to 1K in less than four days??? You guys are freaking amazing. Maybe I'll do an early update if this keeps up :)

"You didn't think you'd be going to New York by yourself, did you?" Tiffany's voice stopped me as I was walking out of Head Quarters.

"Oh, you seem to have your hands quite busy here with your new little profiler friend," I replied, rolling my eyes.

"I get that you're kind of hurt that we've brought someone else in to help with the case, but we're just trying to get a different perspective," she reasoned with me, placing a hand on my shoulder.

"I know, I'm sorry. I'm just so overwhelmed by this crap. It feels unrealistic, and I'm taking it out on all of you," I sighed, and Tiffany nodded her head understandingly.

"Eric, Blaire, Jacob, and I are going with you," Tiffany informed me, not asking.

"Who's going to take care of our little profiler friend if we're all gone?" I asked her with a scoff.

"His name is Max, and we already did a full background check, R.I.P style. If he had anything to hide, we would have found it. Besides, Lavender and Palma are staying behind to keep an eye on him," Tiffany assured me, and I nodded my head.

"Well then we should get going, I have a funeral to plan," I told her my voice was sounding tired and wavering.

I could feel all of my friends' eyes on me as we boarded the private jet heading to New York City. I already had a whole team of bodyguards that were coming with us, and I didn't need them worrying about me too. At some point, their sympathy for me turned into pity.

I know I should have felt saddened or angry, but all I felt was numbness at this point. I felt tired as if all of my determination had emptied from my heart like a balloon. I had at least a few hours before I had to get my shit together. Right now, all I wanted to do was sleep until I could pretend that none of this was happening.

"So what is our plan of action, chief?" Jacob jokingly smiled as he took the empty seat beside me and swung his arm over my shoulder. Smart as ever, I think he finally understood that I didn't want to be a victim.

"We're going to the scene of the crime to get as much information as we can and then we're going back to my parents' house. We might be able to spot something that the crime scene investigators missed," I informed all of them, and they nodded their heads silently except for Eric who bit the inside of his cheek.

I sighed and turned to look at him, knowing there was something he wanted to say.

"What?" I asked him with raised eyebrows, and he gave me a tired smile. Over time, you begin to pick up things about people. Eric tries to keep his opinions to himself sometimes, but I always know when he has something to say because he bites the inside of his cheek as if he's physically trying to keep his mouth shut.

"I don't think it's safe to go back to your parents' house. I mean what if whoever did this is still nearby?" he asked.

"That's why we have a whole team of bodyguards. I need to go back to my parents' house," I replied. I knew he didn't like this idea, but I needed closure. I needed to see if I could find the answers.

The funny thing about answers is they tend to enjoy staying hidden. They're hard to find, and usually, the chase is more satisfying than the actual answer. Did I want every detail of the gruesome murder of both of my parents? Did I need to know if he tortured them or if he forced one of them to look as he killed the other?

Did I have to know if he found some enjoyment in seeing the life drain from my parents' eyes or if he felt disgusted with himself after he had realized what he had done? The truth is, most people don't think about death the way we have to. We need every detail of the crime and the murder to piece the puzzle. The only problem is that as a daughter, I wish I didn't have to know how much my parents suffered during their last minutes on Earth.

I felt almost sickened to wish to myself that the bodies covered by a thin black plastic placed on the cold table in front of me belonged to anyone else. I closed my eyes and hoped that when they peeled away the plastic, I would not find my parents' bodies looking back up at me.

I knew better.

"There were no weapons found at the scene of the crime," the pathologist told us as he unveiled the bodies. I felt someone place their arm around me, but I shrugged it off as I got closer to the corpses.

Before we could go to the crime scene, we were called in to identify the bodies at the morgue. My brother was on his way from Los Angeles, but his flight got delayed. The NYPD was waiting for me to arrive to tell them whether or not I wanted this information to released to the press in case any witness wished to come forward with information.

"In the report, it said the lungs filled with water," I began saying as I looked away from the bodies.

"Yes," the graying doctor replied, looking between all of us.

"So does that mean they drowned?" I asked.

"The death is undetermined because there are also laceration marks on both of their necks. It is unsure if they were strangled or drowned. Possibly both but all the other physical wounds certainly occurred post mortem," he assured us, and I nodded my head.

"This doesn't make any sense, why would this killer need to strangle and drown them?" Jacob asked.

"Was he trying to relive the crime?" Tiffany asked.

"Do you think he's a sadist? That he gets off on seeing the pain inflicted on others?" I asked, trying to profile the suspect.

"I don't know, but I don't think he was trying to relive the crime. I think he possibly failed at strangling your parents, so he resorted to drowning them instead. Or the other way around," Eric offered.

"How can we tell which one occurred first?" Blaire asked the pathologist.

"This is a fairly recent death. We're still running labs. I'll have more information for you in a week," he told me, and I nodded my head.

"So this was completely useless," Blaire sighed as we got into the tinted black sedan waiting for us outside of the hospital. Even though the chilly New York air fogged my breath into clouds, it was still much warmer than the cold sterilized hospital.

"It wasn't a complete waste, we know a few things," I countered.

"How?" Blaire asked me.

"We know this must have been a planned crime. If the suspect had just wanted to kill randomly, he would have shot them and gotten it out of the way. He had a plan, and when that failed, he had a backup plan. This guy had a reason for killing my parents, and I'm going to find out what that was," I explained slamming the door shut with finality, ending the conversation.