Do You Want To Play: A Detroit Police Procedural Romance Read Free Page A

think you’re narrow-minded,” I say, the words slipping past my lips before I can think to stop them. He sneers.
    “Well, you won’t find anything,” he says. “The guy doesn’t leave fingerprints, he doesn’t have witnesses, and he doesn’t stand in front of surveillance cameras. Like you said…the guy isn’t an idiot.”
    “What makes you so sure that it’s a guy?” I ask. “Do you think women aren’t capable of being serial killers?”
    “No,” he says. “I think that the majority of serial killers are men, so I’m putting my money on this killer being a man too. Why? What’s your criminal profile of the murderer?”
    “Male,” I admit. He smirks. “Early to mid twenties, has a 9-to-5 job, above-genius IQ, organized personality, not in a long-term relationship, misogynistic, kills to make himself feel powerful, more than likely abused as a child…”
    “How in God’s name did you get all of that?” he asks.
    “Well, he likes video games…a lot,” I say. “Video games weren’t really prevalent in the childhoods of those in their thirties or older, so it’s a good guess that he’s in his twenties. He has to have a 9-to-5 job in order to afford his props and to be able to commit most of the murders during the night or early in the morning…that’s also the reason he wouldn’t have time to be in a relationship. Clearly, he’s smart and organized or else he would have left evidence behind. That he hates women can be inferred because all of the men were killed rather quickly, whereas the killer spent more time torturing the women and then set them up like they were dolls.”
    “What makes you think he was abused?” he asks. “Or that killing makes him feel powerful?”
    “It’s common in serial killers,” I say. “And in all likelihood, something happened to him during childhood that messed up his way of thinking.”
    “Well, our suspect pool went from 700,000 to 300,000,” he says. “So, thanks for that.”
    “What is your problem with me?” I demand. “Is it just the fact that I come from a psychology background? That I’m a woman?”
    “My problem with you is that you’re barely out of your college diapers and you thought you could come play in the big leagues,” he says. “You should have started with robberies or even a nice little kidnapping. Not serial killers.”
    “I’ve done more to solve this case in a couple of days than you have in weeks,” I say.
    His lip curls. “Because you had seen some video game. That’s not something to brag about.”
    I clench my fists, but I don’t hit him. I stare down at the photographs. He walks away and sits at his desk. His chair squeaks as he swivels left and right. He types on his computer with too much noise. Every single thing about this man irritates me.
    “The medical examiner said that the bodies didn’t have any drugs in their system, right?” I ask.
    “She has tested for every drug she could think of,” he says, continuing to type. “Trust me, when I saw the times that they died, I thought they could all be drug users too, but only David King and Ashley Barker had illegal drugs in their system.”
    “What was the teacher taking?” I ask, flipping through the file.
    “Cocaine,” he says. “I don’t blame her. I would be snorting it too if I had to be around teenagers all day.”
    “And David King?”
    “Heroin.”
    Tobias’ phone rings. I glance up as he answers it.
    “This is Rodriguez,” he says. His passive expression changes—his lips press together and his eyebrows rise. It’s a mixture of surprise and tension. “You shouldn’t be calling me at work…I don’t care. Why should I care?…no, you can’t…Anna…don’t call again. Don’t…I told you. You can’t come running to me every time—stop. Stop. Don’t call again. Please.”
    He hangs up. His gaze rises to meet my eyes.
    “What?” he snaps.
    I shrug. “Nothing.”
    When I profile people, I take each characteristic I