Quinn: We’re back in Ames. Can we meet?
I’ve been expecting her call. According to Cooke Thompson, they were due back about now. Since Tayler’s out on bail, I’m sure she wants an update. I just hope I can give her news she can live with.
Me: Sure. Let me see what my day looks like and I’ll get back to you.
Quinn: Sounds good. Thanks, Gage.
Me: Talk to you later.
At the station, things are at a standstill. The team consists of me, the captain, Finch, and surprisingly, Dan Trumbull, who decided to make an appearance today. We brought in a veteran officer, Jane Bradshaw, as well. She specializes in the behavioral science or psychology part of this kind of crime. Trust me, she’s good.
“So, typically what we call a crime of passion, I’d prefer to call an impulse murder because it’s a sudden, strong impulse such as sudden rage rather than a premeditated crime.”
That part of Jane’s statement isn’t a surprise. We’re all familiar with that part of the definition. But what she said next piqued my interest. “We’re all biologically predisposed to violence in certain situations.”
I’m not sure I agree with that, necessarily, but she’s the one with the psych degree.
“Our brains are wired for danger,” she continues. “And when we sense danger, we use our defense mechanisms, which are often violent, for our own survival.”
Okay, I can see that. But how does that relate to this murder? “So, our perpetrator felt as though they were in danger?” I hedge.
“Perhaps not physical or bodily danger. They may have felt something much more abstract. Our victim could have been threatening something else. Their livelihood, for example. Or threatening another person who they feel the need to protect.”
“You’re really broadening our pool of suspects,” Dan grouses.
“Well, let me try to narrow this down for you.” She leans forward in her seat in our conference room. “Statistically speaking, our perp is most likely male but we can’t rule out a female. They’re right-handed based on the blood splatter, though the height of the suspect is unclear, because it appears they swung the club more than once and from two different angles: one as the victim stood and the other as she was going down.”
Finch makes a grunting noise.
“Yes, Finch?” Jane asks with a smirk.
“So, it could have been a man or a woman?”
She smirks. “Yep. Due to the choice of weapon, it could have been either.” She narrows her eyes like she’s angry. “A woman can be just as strong as a man, Finch.”
“I know,” he responds defensively. “I know.”
“So, we know nothing.” Finch says like it’s nothing. “It could be a guy or a girl. They could be tall or short. Fat or thin?”
“Body weight…” Jane starts to respond but I hold up my hand.
“We don’t know, right?” I look at Jane. “We’re back to square one.”
With a little sigh, Jane nods.
After the meeting, it’s Dan’s turn to tell us what he’s learned from Kara Becker’s social media. Leaning back in my chair, I wait for his report.
“She was a little bitch.”
Wow, that’s one way to open the conversation.
Dan hands us a packet—pages from her journal have been copied and stapled together. A second stack of papers lands on the table in front of me. “Those are screenshots of her Snappy-whatever account, but she mostly used Twipper.”
Twipper? Apparently Dan’s not up on the latest apps the kids are using.
“I’ve made notations and numbered some of the journal entries because they coincide with shit she posted.” He sighs. “She was mean as a pit bull.”
“Hey, man,” Finch interjects. “Pit bulls are sweet.”
With an eye roll, Dan changes his phrasing. “Okay. She was as mean as a snake with a toothache.” He glares at Finch. “Better?”
Finch merely nods.
We’re getting off track.
“Can we keep going, Dan?” I ask.
“I’d like to,” he grumbles. “So, I’ve noted the entries with the same dates as the social media shit. If you look at the journal entry from June 22”—we all turn our pages—“she’s writing about someone with the initials DF in the journal.”
“Dylan Forrester,” the captain interjects.
I take a minute to read her journal. In it, she goes into detail about Dylan’s, um, prowess in bed—or lack thereof. From her details, he wasn’t good.
“Yep.” Dan nods. “Now, turn to the Twinker posting on the same day.”
We all turn to the other packet. I flip pages until I get to the one dated June 22.
Kara @beautifulbecker
#speedkills Be warned, @dylanforrester is faster than a speeding bullet. Don’t bother, ladies.
8:08 AM – Jun 22
Dan continues, “Now, look back at February 18.”
We all flip through the pages. I go ahead and do the same with the social media pages.
I read both and say, “She’s talking about someone named Bryant Falco.”
Kara @beautifulbecker
#takingonefortheteam If any of you are interested in @bryfalco as a sexual partner, don’t bother. #tinydick
“Harsh.”
Ignoring the captain’s remark, I ask, “Do we know who this Falco is?” As I look around the room, the only thing I see are heads shaking. “Let’s find him and anyone else she targeted in this shit.” As I flip through the pages, I glimpse a “Q” and a “u” and I instantly know it was about Quinn. I probably shouldn’t read it, but I open the journal packet anyway.
What is the deal with Quinn Fat Maxwell? Everyone loves her. Why? She’s stupid, plain, and her clothes are U-G-L-Y. I guess everyone likes to root for the loser. But not me. She’s going down.
I note the date and search her social media for the same day.
Kara @beautifulbecker
Hey, people—stop feeling sorry for the fat girls. Instead, encourage them to eat a damn carrot once in a while. #fatlivesdonotmatter
“Jesus,” I mutter. “What a fucking bitch.”
“Told ya,” Dan says with a small chuckle. “We should check out all these people she slammed on here. I bet it pissed off quite a few.”
“I bet you’re right.” Turning to Finch, I smile. “Guess what you get to do?”
“Already making a list of names to check out.”
“Keep in mind this journal
