one, the twelve detectives assigned to this task force came back to the table. Detective Brit Williams, well dressed and handsome with very dark skin, spoke up. “Koto and Richardson and both murders in Florida happened during the day. So we assume he works the night shift.”
“Well, he needs both daylight and evening hours for surveillance purposes, planning and fantasizing. So the most important consideration in his work is mobility and freedom. He could have a mobile profession like sales, construction, route driver, but I think it’s more likely he has these freedoms because he’s in upper management. He’s educated, and it’s very important to him how the world sees him. There’s also knowledge of evidence collection and forensics, obviously, since the scenes are spotless. How much knowledge? It’s hard to determine, but at the very least he will subscribe to trade journals in these areas. So the mailing lists for these kinds of publications and the traffic at these websites could be helpful.”
Williams nodded and scribbled a note. Detective Andy Balaki frowned. “What about the blogs? I mean, he’s such a fucking bragger. These letters are all look how smart I am.”
“Yes!” I agreed. “That’s exactly what they’re about, and there’s a very good chance he’s blogging or at least making regular hits on websites devoted to him. My tech guy tells me there are dozens already. And now he has a name—Wishbone—so the websites will multiply. This is part of the thrill for him. He’ll want to know everything law enforcement is saying and everything the profilers are saying, so he’ll be extremely dedicated to the news. Check children’s organizations too. He may donate to them since he experienced abuse as a child. Those mailing lists up against the trade journals’ mailing lists might net you something.” I paused, looked at each face in the room. “The killings are becoming more frequent and the cooling-off periods shorter in duration. It’s not an unusual pattern in the active years of a serial, but it’s a dangerous one.”
11
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Your Online Adult Edge Fetish & Knife Play Community blogs > beyond the EDGE, a fantasy by BladeDriver blog title > Good Wine
The restaurant was small and famed for its chef, who had begun a kind of culinary revolution, the New Southern, no rules whatsoever. I knew the place. Getting a table was nearly impossible but he had done it. He bragged about this over dinner. He bragged about everything.
He was near the back when I walked in late, and he was wearing Brioni, well-tailored gabardine in navy, a quarter inch of pale blue shirt cuff showing and not a millimeter more. I couldn’t wait to get my hands on him.
He checked his watch before he spotted me. He looked annoyed. There were two full water goblets on the table and bread and butter. He wanted to make sure everything was right. That’s the kind of guy he was. I knew other things about him too. He owed two hundred and forty thou on his home, had a couple kids, liked good wine, played golf, cheated regularly on his wife, hit the gym five days a week, owned a German shepherd, and liked to brag about being made partner in some shitty law firm. I do my homework. It’s part of the fun.
He lit up when he saw me, stood to shake my hand, gave me his most dazzling smile, and searched my face. He wanted a signal. I gave him my eyes, but only for a second, just enough to make him believe I’d revealed something vital about my intentions, then a quick downward glance, a flush of color. It’s not hard to do, that look, even though my ears were ringing and it felt like a hundred degrees in the restaurant. I let my eyes fall to his beltline and linger there a moment too long. The wolf smiled. He thought he was going to get lucky. I liked that idea too. After all, that’s really why we were there. Just like it’s why you’re here now reading my fantasies. You want the fucking and the cutting too. Just like he did.
He smoothed his tie as we sat, motioned for the waiter, nothing flashy, a tiny movement. The wine was ordered without bothering to consult me. He was working the staff, working me, managing all of us. Mr. Up-and-Coming. So in control.
We chatted our way through dinner, both of us lying about who we were and what we wanted. We knew