Lori A. May - The Profiler

“The killer messed up?”

“Are you asking me or telling me?” Cain retorts.

“I’m not sure,” I say, which is true. It seems strange that the killer would make a superficial cut on the victim’s foot. If he was burning the man to death, why bother?

As I get up to circle the table and walk through my thoughts, I see Severo outside the doorway, hanging up from his telephone conversation. He catches my stare when he enters the room, but Cain speaks before he does. “Well?”

The detective crosses his arms across his chest, looking to me first, then smiling at Cain. “They’re still working on the bulk of things, but it looks like we’ll have an ID.”

“On the killer?” I ask, intrigued to peg our man.

“They pulled two sets of prints from the crematorium. My guess is when the killer was roasting our victim, he got caught in the flames and lost a little flesh of his own.”

Cain gets up to stretch out his muscles. “Good job. Did AFIS bring anything up?” I look to him, knowing I should recognize the acronym, but he quickly clarifies. “Automated Fingerprint Identification System.”

“They’re running the prints now,” Severo says, topping up his stale office coffee. “If this guy’s got priors, we’ll get a name, address and anything else you want to know about him. Just one thing we need to figure out though… Why?”

Cain wraps an arm around my shoulders, grinning. “And that’s where you come in, my dear protégée. Welcome to the land of profiling.”

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