Autopsy of a Mind

"Ah, I asked Evie not to enter the dungeon," Nash informed me. I glanced at him, looking away from the road for a split second.

"Thank you," I replied quietly. "I don't think she will listen to you, though." I shook my head. "I see how she has been reacting recently and I get more worried."

Nash was staring at me. "I thought she was getting better…" he trailed off. 

"She was getting so much better. She was combatting her fears and magical thinking really well and her sessions with the therapists were going great, but now… I am doubting letting her interning with the police," I admitted. 

"How so?" Nash asked. "She has been excellent on the field and in the interrogation room. This is invaluable information and she has been so calm throughout every situation."

I shook my head. "You're the Head of Behavioral Studies, but you need to remember you analyze motives and the like. You don't know how good Evie is at suppressing her emotions. She can pretend to be a chirpy little bird even if she is having sleep paralysis demons chasing her down the hallway. That is what she is like… that is her coping mechanism." I knew I was ranting, but I didn't know who to tell. 

I was worried. 

"And what kind of behavior is she exhibiting?" Nash enquired. "I want to match our notes. I spend a lot of time with her at work, so I could help!"

I gripped the steering wheel. "Disregard for advice or power structure. Lack of fear and confrontational behavior. Recklessness," I ended. 

Nash stiffened. "She does leap into action," he stated. 

"The first case she worked with me… we found a serial killer who wanted to kill themselves. She figured that out herself and her reactions… I remember the hatred in her eyes. She almost broke every bone in the suspect's body after chasing him down a crowded street."

Nash startled. "That is dangerous behavior!" he exclaimed. 

"She has never done it again and I have seen her vulnerable, but I think she feels cornered. She was finally feeling relieved that there was no one out to hurt her or the people she loved, and when someone clicks an intimate photograph of us, and she… she pretends it is okay… that she is level-headed."

"She went into Alicia's interrogation room, didn't she?" Nash asked. 

"I let it slide. It could be cathartic and she would see that no one held power over her. But… when she came out… she looked scared. But I don't think she knew that." I felt my eyes heat and blinked to keep the tears at bay. 

"She kept looking at that video obsessively. I know what you mean," Nash whispered. 

"I just want to catch this guy and give her some peace. I think we need to increase the intensity and frequency of her therapy sessions again," I admitted. I felt defeated. 

Maybe, I wasn't strong enough to back her up and reassure her. Maybe I could have been a little more intelligent and seen through the plots and caught the guy before he came back to haunt Evie. 

The rational part of my brain knew there was no way to ensure these things. But I had turned into an emotional man. There were high-stakes in this situation. 

We pulled into to the station's parking lot and I took the bag with me.

I went straight to the forensics department and placed the bag on the table.

"Dr. Butler, you brought in evidence today?" the analyst asked. 

"Yes, it's for a case I am working on. I need complete privacy in this case, understood?" My voice held a veiled warning. 

The analyst blinked and then nodded. "Do you need it done right now?" he asked. 

"Are you working on something at the moment? We have a fresh trail on a cold case… a serial killer," I claimed. 

"It's going to be hard, Dr. Butler. I can't start analyzing this before tomorrow," he said with the scratch of his head.

Nash peered from behind me and voiced his opinion. "What are you working on currently?" he asked casually.

"A burglary case," he responded. "The report is due tomorrow morning," he gave an apologetic smile. 

I sighed. "Can I ask you to do this on an emergency basis? I'll treat you to dinner for your help." I knew I was known as the icy boss, but I really needed it done. I was reminded of how Evie asked me to be polite to everyone, so I tried her method out this time. 

I could see the analyst's eyes widen and he nodded slowly.

"Are you going to give me a name for the case or what I am looking for?" he asked. 

"Anything. It's fresh off the site and untouched at that," I informed him.

"Okay, I'll ask someone to cover for me and write the report. I'll get this done. Will you be overseeing?" he asked. 

I nodded. "Yes, it's a high-security case. I know you are the top analyst in the department, so I require your absolute secrecy in this matter."

The analyst nodded enthusiastically. He snapped on his gloves and looked at the bag.

"Looks like a generic bag used in the early nineties. Nothing special. Tags have been removed," he spoke as he inspected. "The wear and tear show that this is something from the household of the killer." His eyes gleamed with excitement. 

"Does that mean something?" I asked, hoping it would be of use. 

"Well, we can't get fingerprints because it looks cleaned down but the inside… we can check it." He pulled out the box inside and took a magnifying glass and torchlight to look inside the bag.

It was five or so minutes before his brows scrunched. "It looks thoroughly cleaned out but I got a single grain of sand," he said. 

I breathed in relief. "We can estimate where it is from, right?" I questioned. 

The analyst nodded. He put the grain of sand on a Petri dish and put it aside carefully. "We can say the place from where this sand is within a fifty-kilometer radius."

"Wait. This sand could be from long ago, right?" Nash asked. 

The analyst shook his head. He pointed to the exterior of the bag. "Look at this. You can see the distressed threads and the lack of color, right?"

Nash and I nodded. "But the interior of the bag is in very good condition. The material on the inside doesn't react poorly to long-term wear and tear, but the exterior, though for rough use can't handle rough scrubbing. The discoloration is from bleach or other cleaning substances. The interior is better because the cleaning didn't affect the cloth lining." He pointed to the frayed stitches on the inside. "Only the stitches that stand out are worn."

He gave us a victorious smirk. 

"So, the killer cleaned it inside out after use but this grain of sand remained?"

The analyst nodded. "Maybe it's a particle from inside their house and they didn't suspect it is inside. It should give us a good idea about the neighborhood the bag is from," he said pleasantly. 

"I don't understand," Nash admitted. 

"The composition of the soil differs every fifty kilometers or so. With the help of geology and forensic sciences, we can pinpoint the location of soil residue. But the soil structure keeps changing over the years. It changes about every other decade… just slightly," I explained. "You should look at more than what goes on inside the interrogation room."

"Finally, the technology is catching up with evidence, huh?" Nash asked, fascinated.

"There is nothing else in the bag. It has been thoroughly cleaned out," the analyst said aloud. He moved on to the box and then paused. He looked up at me in awe. 

"This…" he trailed off.

"What about it?" Nash asked. 

"Uh… is this a coincidence or—" he stopped and looked around. When he saw no one around, he spoke up again. "The box, it's the same generic one that Miss Lewis brought over, right?"

Nash choked.

"Is it evident?" I asked. 

"It could be a coincidence but… hard to come across such a thing in our industry," the analyst admitted. He opened the box and looked inside. "I'll run these for DNA and prints." He picked up the letter. "Definitely the same guy." He sighed. "The quality of the paper is the same, too. What is this? Another helping hand from the weird person?" he asked. 

He was starting to hyperventilate. 

"Don't worry. If you don't say who it is, neither will we. It's a secret investigation. Do you understand?" I emphasized. 

He nodded vehemently. 

Nash's phone rang. "Nash speaking," he spoke into it immediately. There was speaking from the other side.

My attention was on the analyst who was feeding in the information into the computer and looking from prints on everything inside the bag. I didn't have much hope, but I was banking on the accomplice getting desperate and making a mistake. 

The grain of sand looked like a small thing, but it could give me a general locality I needed to look at. 

But I noticed that Nash was too silent. I turned to him. The phone hung at his side and his eyes held an indescribable expression. 

"What's wrong?" I asked.

"Uh, the task force we sent to catch the suspects for the abduction case asked everyone in the locality and spotted a house that matched the description. The residents were the exact profile, too."

"Okay, so?" I prompted. 

"They went inside the house and it looked like it had been abandoned. There was a basement but no one was inside…"

I could see that he was rambling. There was a point to this ramble and I needed to shake him out of it. 

"Nash, get to the point. What is the conclusion?" I asked. "They didn't catch the suspects. What is the next course of action?"

"I don't know…" he whispered. 

My brows scrunched up in confusion. "What does that mean? Bring the task force back and regroup," I advised. 

"I can't." He was silent for a long time. "Evie stayed outside like I had asked her to. While they were searching inside, she texted the team that she had seen the suspect. Uh… they can't find her."

I was confused to say the least. "Can't find who? The perpetrator? Did they escape?" Evie would not approach the perpetrator and try to take him down, right? She was reckless but she knew I didn't want her in danger. She wouldn't do that. That was why she texted her team to come out. But how did the perpetrator vanish?

And then Nash's answer came, making the world crumble around me.

"Evie. Evie's gone."