Elysium Dreams

Eight

"I would consider the older women to be respectable.  They dress nice, but not flashy.  Their jewelry is small and tasteful.  And judging by the photos of their make-up collection, I'd say they wear it on special occasions, but if they wear it every day, it is very light," Lucas clarified.

"Were any of them sexually assaulted?"  I asked.

"Do you read the dossiers we give you or look at the pictures?"  Gabriel asked me.  The others had turned to look at me.  I shrugged; I wasn't going to admit that I mostly looked at the pictures.

"We aren't sure," Xavier shook his head at me.  "And if you thought about it for more than about three seconds, I'm sure you'd figure that one out on your own."

I did think about it.  I thought about it for more than three seconds.  I frowned at him.

"Whatever answer you wanted me to come up with failed to go to seed," I told him.

"Because of the nature of the body, specifically, the torched genitalia, we don't know if they are being sexually assaulted.  There is no semen present in the uterus, but that doesn't mean anything other than there was no semen left in the uterus.  If he does, he uses a condom," Xavier looked at me.

I looked back for a second before turning to look at Lucas.  In hindsight, I could see that my question was indeed answerable by looking at the situation for a few moments.  However, I was a master at getting hung up on small details and overlooking others completely.  This meant that at times I was very good at this and at other times I wasn't.

"I would guess that he doesn't," Lucas said after I had stared at him for a minute.  "It seems to be more about the suffering than it does sex."

"Sadist," I said quietly.

"I don't think so," Lucas said.  "Sadism implies a sexual component.  This is more about control."

"We are looking for a man that needs to be in control?"  I gave him a look.

"I know, it's a broad generalization that fits most people, including you," Lucas answered.

I shrugged and yawned.  He was right on both accounts.  Although I didn't consider myself a control freak, there were instances where everyone else would disagree.

"Are we boring you?"  Arons asked.

"This part usually does bore me to some extent.  I do not like sitting on my hands waiting for him to take another victim.  I like to go in, guns blazing, and rescue the damsel in distress," I answered curtly.

"What exactly do you do, Marshal Cain?"  Arons looked at me.

"She provides valuable information in places where we can't," Gabriel said the words slowly, as if chewing on them before spitting them out.  There was a tone to his voice that told me not to press that issue.  Arons was oblivious to the discouraging tone.

"But what exactly?  She's bored by the investigation, doesn't understand crime scene processing, and doesn't seem to care about the victims.  So, I'll ask again, what exactly is her role?"  Arons pressed forward.

"Marshal Cain gives us all a sounding board.  Most of us are intelligent but can't keep up with each other, we are all specialized.  She is not.  She can look at a problem with different eyes than us.  And she has a unique perspective on serial killers," Lucas broke in, stopping Gabriel from using his sharp tongue again.  "In a world where the serial killer is king and usually has an IQ that puts him over genius level, Ace levels the playing field."

"That doesn't answer the question," Arons huffed.

I stood up and walked to the white board.  I pulled down all the pictures, placing the first three victims on top.  I looked at Arons. The calm washed over me and I was unwilling to try to pull myself out of it.  I wanted him to see just how angry I could be and just how different that anger was from anyone else's.  When I got angry, it was like staring into an abyss, not a tantrum-fueled cartoon.