**picture: Portland Police HQ
The afternoon went by with interviews to people who'd known both victims, which kept them all busy until sunset. Brock was the last one to finish, and back to the conference room, he found the team comparing notes and impressions. Gillian and Russell were together before the board, talking with their eyes on the pictures and the short timeline they'd been able to draw.
He saw there was still coffee and crossed the room to pour himself one. While he was at it, he couldn't help overhearing what the other two were saying.
Gillian's voice told him she was completely absorbed in her thoughts. "This is nothing I've ever seen or heard before, Russ. Yeah, it's a sexual sadist. Sort of. But it's got me at a total loss. What made him lash out? What could've been the stressor?"
"It must've happened before he abducted his first victim, but not long ago. It could've been days, or a couple of weeks," replied Russell, straight from the book, all he'd just learned still fresh and vivid in his mind. "And like we were saying earlier, his type tells us the stressor was related to a brunette woman in her late twenties or early thirties."
"That would be the subject's age, right?"
"Yep. So the woman is his ex or current wife—or girlfriend."
Brock couldn't help himself. Gillian was onto something, and he knew way better than ignoring her sharp instincts. So he approached them from behind, asking, "Why, Gillian? What's bugging you?"
She felt a chill at his voice, but ignored it. It was the profiler asking, and that was enough for her to put aside any awkward feeling. Then she smelled his cologne and loosened her hair with a casual move. She needed to hide her ears, knowing they'd be dark red in about a heartbeat. She answered with her eyes still on the pictures.
"I'm thinking that if we can figure out his routine with these women, we can also figure out the stressor. And that would help us identify the subject."
Brock stood with them before the board, leaving Russell between him and Gillian, a small cup of coffee in hand and a thoughtful look on the board. He nodded slowly. "Yes, that could be a good approach," he said. "Work on it, Gillian." He turned to Russell. "Any news?"
"We got the names of Rose's cleaning lady and ex. They're coming first thing tomorrow."
"Good. I gotta drop by our agency now, but you guys should call it a day. Go to the hotel and get some rest."
Russell flashed a grin. "Yessir."
Brock went back to the table, sipping his coffee, and grabbed the reports he wanted to check after dinner. He made a general nod on his way out and left. Time to let the punks be for a while—and for him to have a break.
The FBI agency in Portland was only a couple of streets away from the police station, so Brock decided to walk and get a taste of the cool summer night.
Gillian insisting on the subject's routine was the hound talking. Brock didn't doubt there was something there, just like he knew she would find it out. If they could manage to stick to do their jobs, they would crack the case soon. And both his and her heartburns would be justified.
As if it had anything to do with the case, he remembered he still had to call Viv.
Maybe later.