M Sellars - Miranda

I repeated her words. “Not entirely… Which implies you weren’t completely truthful about its purpose then, which means I’m right about it being bullshit. So am I to assume that’s when the observing started?”

She remained silent, and her expression neither confirmed nor denied my question.

I pressed, “Okay, so if I’m not under some sort of criminal investigation, why don’t you tell me what all this observing is about?”

“It’s for the purpose of evaluation.”

“Of what?”

“Potential, for lack of a better explanation.”

“Okay, I’ll bite. Potential what?”

She shifted slightly and began to explain. “As I’m sure you are aware, a good portion of your exploits are a matter of record.”

“By exploits I guess you mean my helping with murder investigations?”

“Exactly. And since there are some very detailed reports, as well as some obviously sanitized accountings, you have become a bit of a curiosity. In any event, the depths of your talents have not escaped the notice of the bureau, and in particular the BAU.”

“So what you’re saying is that the FBI is treating me like a lab rat because I’m a Witch?”

She gave me a shallow nod and said, “Actually, Mister Gant, in a very real sense, yes.”

While my talents, as she put it, had not escaped the attention of the FBI, at this particular moment in time, they were most certainly escaping mine-at least as far as anything precognitive was concerned. I had to admit, I was fully expecting her to laugh in answer to my last question, and therefore, this turn in the conversation wasn’t one I had foreseen. Not entirely sure what to say next, I sat mutely staring back at the psychologist.

“Allow me to elaborate,” she said.

I nodded. “Please do.”

“You, Mister Gant, have an amazing capacity for connecting dots no one else can see in order to find a killer. That is something of a rare talent.”

“Not really.” I explained. “Dead people talk to me, Doctor Jante. That’s it. I know you think that’s crazy and that it sounds like a Hollywood cliche, but it’s the truth. And it’s also definitely not what I’d call a talent. In fact, I personally view it as a curse.”

“Whatever explanation you wish to believe is up to you. Still, it has captured the attention of the bureau.”

“Yeah… Well to be honest I don’t see what the big deal is here. I thought the whole criminal profiling thing was what the Behavioral Analysis Unit was all about?”

“It is.”

“Okay. So don’t you have all sorts of highly trained people, like you for instance, running around connecting the imaginary dots?”

“Yes, we do,” she agreed. “But not as many as you think.”

“How many could you possibly need?”

“More than you would imagine.”

“Why don’t either of those answers surprise me,” I sighed. “Well, what does any of this have to do with me?”

“Very few people have a natural talent for creating a profile from a crime scene. It can be learned, yes, but only the truly exceptional have an innate ability such as yours. Fewer still have your particular affinity for seeing beyond the visible scope of the scene and making the necessary leap wherever the science fails to provide a bridge.”

“I believe they call that intuition,” I replied.

“Yes, Mister Gant, I am well aware of what it is called. My point being that it is something with which you appear to be blessed in abundance.”

“Well, like I just told you, what I do isn’t intuition, or science either for that matter. I can’t take the credit for what the spirits of homicide victims insist on screaming into my ears.”

She gave me a dismissive roll of her eyes. “As I said, however you wish to explain it to yourself is your business. We are primarily interested in the results.”

“I’ve never held anything back,” I said. “So what’s the problem?”

“Your territory.”

“My territory?”

“Yes, Mister Gant. It is a bit limited, geographically.”

I cast a sidelong glance at her as the words sank in. Finally I said, “Wait a minute… Let me get this straight. What all this really comes down to is that I’m being evaluated by the FBI for a friggin’ job?”

Jante simply stared back at me without offering a reply.

I sighed. “This is nuts.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because for one thing I already have a job.”

“Your software consulting firm.”

“Yes.”

“Business hasn’t been all that brisk lately, has it?”

“Business has been fine.”

“Yet your income has dropped off.”

“And you know this how?” I asked.

“That’s confidential.”

“Yeah. Figures. Well, I have plenty of consulting work to keep me busy, thank you.”

“But somehow you’re still free to spend an excessive amount of time helping the Major Case Squad in Saint Louis with their investigations? That can’t be good for business.”

I shrugged. “I wouldn’t say excessive.”

“I would,” she replied. “Especially for someone with plenty of consulting work to keep him busy.”

“I guess it all depends on your definition of the word ‘excessive,’” I told her. “Besides, I only get involved when I don’t really have any choice.”

“You always have a choice, Mister Gant.”

“Yeah, well try telling that to a pissed off spirit of a murder victim. When they find someone on this side of the veil who can actually hear them, they tend to latch on and not take no for an answer.”

“I will have to take your word for that.”

“I’ve got scars to prove it,” I spat.

“So I’ve read,” she replied.

“Is that it?” I asked.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean is that it? This whole FBI headhunter, recruit the Witch thing… That’s what was so top secret that everyone had to leave the room?”

“There are circumstances that dictate extreme discretion where this is concerned.”

“Yeah, whatever,” I said, unconvinced. “So, here’s a question. Why do you have me talking to Annalise? You already have your case against her. Wouldn’t it be a better test of my potential,” I made quotes in the air with my fingers to offset the word, “to see what I can do with an unknown?”

She nodded. “Yes, but the mutual fixation between Devereaux and you is one of the things that has us curious.”

“About what?”

“Why the fixation, of course.”

“If I’m remembering my freshman psych class properly, it’s not all that unusual for sociopaths to fixate on objects, or people they objectify, especially if they are afflicted with a paraphilia like she is,” I said. “But I’m not telling you anything new, am I?”

“Of course. That, however, doesn’t explain your fixation with her, unless, of course, you are a sociopath as well.”

“Maybe I am.”

“I think we both know better than that, Mister Gant.”

“Well, I would think it’s pretty obvious, especially to a psychologist. She tried to kill my wife and me both.”

“A logical consideration,” she agreed. “But, no. Not in this case. There’s something more. When we first met in Saint Louis, you told me you needed to make Miranda go away.”

I huffed out an exasperated breath and massaged my forehead for a moment. The headache had settled somewhat but was still more than enough to make me wish I’d stayed home. Finally I said, “Yes. I did. So are we switching gears? Is that what this is about now?”

She nodded. “Partly. It is obvious that your belief in the Miranda personality being some sort of malevolent spirit is what has compelled you thus far. And, moreover, why you are here now.”