pre-mortem. See how uniform they are. It’s almost as though the victim’s lips have been cut off.’ O’Neil was zipping up the bag and telling Frusco to ship the body to the morgue for an autopsy as Montoya and LaPortiere arrived. Divers continued to swim around the shallow marshlands; some policemen, dressed in waders like Leroy's, fished around with their hands, searching the silt bed. ‘Agent O’Neil, May I introduce you to my two leading investigators on this case. Detective Rick Montoya and Detective Leroy LaPortiere.’ Rick smiled and offered his hand. He enjoyed the firm contact of Agent O’Neil grip through the latex glove she was wearing. She pulled at it and snapped it off to shake Leroy's hand. Leroy grinned like an imbecile, pleased to be one up on his friend and partner. The first to make physical contact with her flesh. Such little matters were all a part of a long playing game between the two men. ‘Gentlemen, I am here from the FBI Behavioural Science Unit to help build a profile of our perpetrator.’ She held up her hands. ‘I am not here to tread on your toes or undermine any aspect of your work or the investigation. I think this manner of co-operation will best be suited to working together to achieve our common goal, i.e. catching Charlie Madman. Any questions?’ Leroy was rubbing his nose but secretly sniffing the perfume transferred from O’Neil’s hand during their introduction. ‘Is that Clinique?’ Georgina looked Leroy coldly in the eye. ‘I think its rotting dead man.’ Rick allowed a smirk to spread across his face. ‘Good, first things first, where can I get a beer and what's the best motel in the area that falls within a $50 a night budget?’
Chapter Five
She was expecting the knock at the door. One beer, a shower and a change of clothes later, Georgina O’Neil was ready for a hectic briefing session, even though it was late in the evening she felt it would give a good opportunity to become aquatinted with Detectives Montoya and LaPortiere. The air conditioning unit crackled and hummed annoyingly but it did at least alter the air quality to something more like that of her native Virginia. She pulled the door open and stepped in to the oven like furnace of a Missouri summer night. LaPortiere greeted her and walked with her to the car. Montoya was driving. She climbed into the back seat and was surprised when LaPortiere joined her. ‘Things have been happening since this afternoon.’ Leroy said ‘It would seem our friend has already taken his next victim.’ Rick briefly looked over his shoulder and joined the conversation. ‘Stephen England; reported missing by his girlfriend. He hasn't shown for work for six days. It might be co-incidence but nothing ever happens here. Nothing and now this.’ He turned around and settled into his seat before starting the car. The Chrysler's tyres spun slightly on the shingle car park drive before gripping and pulling away; moving away from Turtle Island and back onto the mainland and Missouri. ‘This may be the break we need,’ O’Neil said ‘unless he's had a change of heart, at some point he'll have to dump the body. So who was the John Doe we pulled out of the river earlier?’ ‘Still a John Doe, there’s no local report of anyone else missing.’ Rick replied, as he turned right onto the freeway. A large bug splattered against the windscreen, a small explosion of blood and green goo. ‘But it’s only a matter of time.’ ‘The preliminary autopsy report came through the system earlier tonight.’ Leroy fished through a black folio bag and pulled out a folder, which he handed to Agent Georgina O’Neil. The car sped along the highway passing thick wooded forests and wetlands. Georgina read the document. The two men continued the journey in silence both of them lost in concentration. The car doors echoed as they shut in the near empty car park. Night staff was down to a minimum and what police