The 7th Victim - Alan Jacobson [12]
“I was thinking about profiling.”
Vail gave a sideways glance at Hancock, who appeared to be listening with half an ear. She took Robby’s elbow and rose from her crouch. “Let’s go get some air.”
They moved outside, and the chill struck her body like a slap to the face. She sunk her hands into her pants pockets and walked over to the curb. “You know, Robby, there’s another option. The International Criminal Investigative Analysis Fellowship. It’s a two-year understudy training program. You’d have to be sponsored by an agency, one that’s big like Bledsoe’s. You’d spend the last month with my unit, then take a test. You could then do profiling for the police department.”
Robby shrugged, then said, “Not quite the same.”
Vail nodded. “Okay, but you can’t just apply for the profiling unit. You have the street experience, but you’ve got to be an agent for a while. You know, pay your dues, meet some pretty rigid criteria. There are a lot of candidates for very few openings.”
“You don’t think I have the talent.”
“I didn’t say that. From what I’ve seen, I think you’ve got great natural instincts. But it’s a lot more than that. A good profiler is open-minded. He can see the big picture and keep his feelings and emotions in check. He needs to be able to look at a scene and instantly analyze things logically: why did the offender do this—or not do that? He has to be able to think like the offender. I haven’t really assessed you in those terms. I’d need to work more cases with you before I could say you’ve got all the tools.”
“My mom’s friend thinks I do.”
“Man, it’s cold. Gotta walk, move the blood.” She started down the sidewalk and Robby followed. “So your mom’s friend thinks you’ve got the knack. That’s great, Robby. But who the hell’s your mom’s friend?”
“Thomas Gifford.”
“My ASAC?” Vail asked, referring to the Assistant Special Agent-in-Charge of the profiling unit.
“Yeah.”
Vail stopped walking and turned to face Robby. “You never told me that.”
“Never came up. I wasn’t that close with my mom till she got sick, when I moved back here to take care of her. Gifford came around from time to time to see if she needed anything. I got the feeling they might’ve had a thing once. Anyway, after she died, suddenly the guy’s in my life, trying to help me out with all sorts of stuff. Probably made my mom a promise.”
“So you want to be a profiler. Well, you’ve got a good ‘in,’ which will definitely help.”
“I don’t want my mother’s friend pulling strings to get me a job, Karen. I want it legit.” Robby glanced up at the high sky as rain-drops began to dot the pavement. “Come on, we should get back.”
They turned and headed toward Melanie Hoffman’s house.
“Wanting to earn it on your own is fine, but don’t ever overlook inside contacts. Sometimes merit means shit. Good people, better people, get passed over all the time.”
“Fine, so I’ll use one of my inside contacts. Teach me, be my tutor.”
Vail looked up at the man who was a foot taller than she. “It’s not that easy. I mean, yeah, I could teach you stuff. But unless you have a good footing in psychology—”
“I was a psych minor at Cal State Northridge.”
Vail hesitated. “Well, that’s a start, I guess.” She continued on another few steps as she considered his request. “I guess there’s no harm. Just keep it from Hancock. Think of him as your enemy and you’ll be fine.”
“Hancock—that the GQ dude in there?”
“His history is short and sweet. Used to be with the Bureau, got passed over for the one vacant profiling position—which went to me—got pissed off, and left. He now heads up Senator Linwood’s security detail.”
“So he’s got a chip on his shoulder.”
“Not just a chip, the whole rock.”
They shared a laugh.
“Okay. Lesson one. You ready for this?”
“Hey, I’m a dry sponge.”
“Somehow that image doesn’t work for me, Robby.” They arrived at the house and stood by the front door, under the eave. “We were all in Melanie Hoffman’s bedroom looking over the crime scene. But we were seeing different things. You, Bledsoe, Manette, and Sinclair were following the criminalists