Forged in Desire (The Protectors #1)(29)
“Fine,” he snapped. “We’ll go get your thread. Tell me the name of the store so I can set things up.”
“Set what up?”
“A plan to make sure my security team has our backs.”
“Okay.”
He dug into his breakfast, thinking, hell no, it wasn’t okay. As far as he was concerned, nothing would be okay until his assignment of protecting her was over.
*
DR. RANDI FULLER stared at everyone gathered in the huge conference room as she paused before saying the words she knew they would not want to hear. But she said them anyway. “You have the wrong man in custody.”
Everyone looked at her like they didn’t believe she could say such a thing, and she understood why. Everything fit. They had recovered the murder weapon with the suspect’s fingerprints all over it. The man didn’t have an alibi, he had a criminal record, and he fit the description from the only eye witness they had. However, regardless of all that, she was convinced she was right.
“While we respect your opinion, Dr. Fuller, I think you’re wrong. We’re all convinced that we do have the right man.”
She held the gaze of FBI special agent Tommy Felton. This wouldn’t be the first time they had worked together on a high-profile case. And it wouldn’t be the first time they’d disagreed and he had refused to consider what she had to say. The last case had been a human-trafficking ring. If the Bureau had taken her findings seriously then, they could have captured the leader of the group. They hadn’t and the man was still out there somewhere. It seemed her presence always reminded Agent Felton of that. It didn’t matter one iota to him that the reason she was here was because, with the use of her psychic abilities, she’d helped law enforcement around the country solve a number of cases that had been at dead ends.
“And why do you think we have the wrong man?” police chief Hal Harkins asked, ignoring the glare Felton shot his way.
At least someone was willing to listen to reason, Randi thought, shifting her full attention to the chief of police. She would have to give it to Chief Harkins—he and his team of detectives had taken her abilities seriously. Her approach to solving a crime was different than those of a number of other psychics. She didn’t just depend on her psychic abilities but also an in-depth knowledge of the case. That method was more readily accepted by the skeptics, especially those who believed their way was the only way. She had the ability to speak as both a behavioral analyst and a psychic investigator. If the people she worked with preferred thinking of her as a BA rather than a PI, then so be it.
It didn’t matter that at the age of twenty-seven she’d already assisted various police departments around the country in solving close to fifty cases, most of them unsolved murders, rapes and missing persons. She’d garnered national attention when she had helped federal agents rescue a well-known senator just moments before he was to be put on a plane to Libya for his execution by ISIS.
She knew Chief Harkins wanted to believe in her. He and a couple of his detectives had accompanied her to the five crime scenes, had made sure she had all the court records at her disposal and had set up her interview with Gus Pickett, the man who’d been arrested and tagged “Erickson’s assassin.”
“As you know, Chief Harkins, I spent most of yesterday with Gus Pickett. I had put together a psychological profile of the assassin based on where he decides to kill his victims, what evidence he willingly leaves behind and the time of day each hit was made. After my interview, as well as my visit to the crime scenes, several things stood out, which convinces me that Pickett’s not the person you are looking for. There are several inconsistencies.”
“Such as?” the chief asked.
“The assassin is a habitual coffee drinker. That’s the only real evidence he leaves behind—coffee cups wiped clean of fingerprints.”
“What are you getting at, Dr. Fuller?” Felton all but snapped at her. “Are you suggesting Pickett doesn’t drink coffee?”
“What I’m getting at, Agent Felton, is that Gus Pickett only drinks his coffee with cream. Coffee residue on the cups left at the murder scenes did not show traces of cream in the coffee.”
“And how do you know what he puts in his coffee?” Harkins asked, curiously.
She glanced over at him. “I gave him a cup during our interview session. When I offered him some sugar, he said he only uses cream in his coffee. And another thing. Pickett is almost a neat freak. He would not have left those cups behind, littering the place.”
“We know why they were left behind, Dr. Fuller.” Another special agent spoke up, a tinge of annoyance in his voice. “His motive was quite obvious. He wanted to toy with us. He dropped hints and got caught.”
Randi knew she was wasting her time trying to convince them of any theories other than those they’d come up with. These were Felton and his boys. FBI old-school. Although they could support behavioral analytical findings in most situations, since the FBI used them to crack a lot of cases, she knew when it came to psychics they were nonbelievers.
She placed her report on the table. “Here is my final evaluation as both a psychic investigator and behavioral analyst. I suggest everyone read it and weigh in on my recommendations, especially the one where I’m requesting an interview with Erickson.”
“Trust me, you don’t want to interview Erickson,” Harkins said, rubbing his face. “The man is an asshole.”