Through the Eyes of Madness—Part Six
By: David K. Montoya

Grayson entered the police station with a large wet paper bag cradled in his arms, and with his free hand he removed his hand and plopped both atop his desk. Directly across from his desk, sat Dean at his own station—nose deep in paperwork.

Tidwell glanced up at the sound of a spat across the way from him.

"What is that, Gray?" Tidwell asked while he watch his partner hang up his drenched overcoat.

"Sorry, Partner, it is pouring out there again. I had to take a detour that lead me through the north end of the city, and the sun is out and shining," Grayson said, and nabbed up his hat and placed it with his coat. "How unfair is that?"

Amused, Tidwell grinned and points at the soggy bag.

"Oh yeah, right, the bag." Grayson opened up the sack and begin to removed plastic containers that were full of pre-made food. "Lisa decided to give you a few of our pre-made packages. There is stuff for breakfast, lunch and dinner. You should be good for at least until next Sunday."

"Bloody Hell, Grayson," Tidwell said while he stood from his desk. "What about you guys?"

"Ah, we're good partner. This was just our extra from this week's meal prep." Grayson said. He dipped his arm deeper into the bag to confirm he had taken all of the containers out. "Typically, she just drops it off at the homeless shelter, but she said she'd rather give it to you."

Tidwell walks over to the large stack of containers and glimpsed up with humbled eyes. "Thank you, Gray, you two are good friends."

Grayson smiled.

"You're more like family, Dean."

"Don't say that, Gray, most of my family don't like me."

The two partners had a moment with laughter, but was interrupted when another officer walked up to them.

"Tidwell and Copeland," the officer asked.

"I prefer Copeland and Tidwell, but yeah," Grayson said with a chuckle.

"Ha. Ha." Tidwell mocked.

The Officer sighed and handled an envelope to the younger of the two detectives. "The Captain said the profile on the suspect is in and give these to you guys."

"Here you go, partner," Grayson said. He leaned across his desk to hand Tidwell the envelope. While, he knew that his own detective skills would be suffice for the following task, it was Tidwell's thing to cover the profiling.

Tidwell took the package and removed the contents inside. He spread the mixture of crime scene photos and official paperwork across the desk with his hand. "All right, boy-yo, let's go over this piece of shit's profile." Tidwell glanced up from the mess on his desk toward his partner. "Maybe they missed something, somewhere that we'll catch."

Tidwell carefully examined each item on his desk, he plucked one piece of paper off the pressed wood top. "The guy we are looking for is a white male. His age is approximately around Thirty to Fifty years of age."

Grayson tilted his head in question. "That's a wide range partner?"

"Yes, it is…," Tidwell said and looked up from the papers. "Probably closer to your age, Gray. You're not the killer are you?"

Both men laugh at the intentionally ludicrous question. Tidwell picked up another paper and read it's findings for a moment, "He's most likely an invert… a loner. It says here that if the kill has some sort of employment it would be something where he would not have to deal with people on the regular."

"Well, that's a bunch of useless shit," Tidwell said with his hands over his unshaven face.

"What does it say about the murders them selves?" Grayson asked with his elbows on the desk top completely invested in what his partner had said.

"Hmmm…," Tidwell ran his hands over the desk and gathered up what appeared as random pieces of paper. "Our boy in Mental Health say that the suspect suggest that he is ill tempered and filled with rage," Tidwell read. After a brief moment of silence while he read, he continued. "That he is projecting said rage onto his victims, trying to expel some sort of pain within them."

"What the hell kinda anger issues are we dealing with, for fuck sake?" Grayson question more to himself than to his partner.

"Something deep rooted, Partner." He continued to read. "The sheer number of wounds on each victim, and the estimated magnitude with which are delivered affirms this."

Tidwell shook his head in disbelief, "What a waste of paper. All you'd have to do is look at the victims."

Grayson leaned over and nabbed up a piece of paper that caught his eye, he stood there for a moment lost in thought.

"What did you find Gray?" Tidwell asked.

Grayson lowered himself atop his desk and said, "This caught my eye because of how words that were in bold. It suggests that because there was no signs of any sort of sexual diffusion on the victims, that suggests that the murder is using a substitution instead of his own… Ummm."

"What his dick?"

"Precisely." Grayson uncomfortably answered.

"So, does it say what exactly is the killer using instead?"

"Yeah, the murder weapon." He said with unease.

"Shit." Tidwell muttered.

"It says that we need to look for possible suspects who are unable to perform the act of sex itself," Grayson finished and placed the paper down on the desk.

"Maybe we can send some guys down to the county and see if any of the solders that's recently came home came in with any type of injury what would match the profile." Tidwell thought aloud.

"Like what, a dude with his balls blown off?" Grayson joked.

"More like his dick blown off." Tidwell answered. He scooped up the papers and placed them one by one inside the envelope. "Any leads there elsewhere?"

"None," Grayson said with a nod, "this guy is really good."

Tidwell stopped at a picture of the latest victim with her face covered, "So why do you think the killer cover the victim's faces?"

"Hmm…," Grayson tapped his finger against his lips in thought. "If I were to get in to his head I'd say that he covers their faces out of some sort of shame. I'm thinking that he does not want to see their face or visa versa."

Tidwell folded his arms while he thought aloud, "But they are unconscious when they are murdered."

"So we'll go with he doesn't want to see their face." He said and stood from the desk top. "I bet in this guys mind, you know, deep down in his psyche—he's killing some important woman figure like a teacher, a co-worker or, even, his mother."

"The teacher or co-worker works. But All the victims aren't the same race, so we can eliminate the mother theory." Tidwell rejoinders.

A phone on Tidwell's desk rand and he answered in a stern voice. "Tidwell," he said, he listened for a few bit and the hung hung up the receiver.

"What's up partner?"

"The Medical Examiner's office are ready for us," Tidwell answered.

To be continued…


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