Indelible Laurie Buchanan (sad books to read TXT) 📖

for, and then reads, “And while sociopathy and psychopathy are both antisocial personality disorders—some clinicians even class them together—criminologists differentiate between them based on their outward behavior. For instance, sociopaths tend to be disorganized, while psychopaths can be almost obsessively organized.

“Sociopaths aren’t able to maintain normal relationships with family, friends, or co-workers, while psychopaths can maintain normal social relationships. They may even take care of aging parents or be married with children.

“Sociopaths are often unable to keep steady employment or housing, while psychopaths are often very successful in their careers.

“Sociopaths often live on the fringe of society. Studies of homeless people show that a disproportionately large number of them are classed as sociopaths. On the other hand, psychopaths often live in a typical house or apartment, and are indistinguishable from healthy people.

“A psychopath’s ability to charm and manipulate people is one of the hallmarks of their disorder. The psychopath is an award-winning liar, gaslighting is second nature, the threat of punishment doesn’t faze them, and they thrive on other’s constant praise. Because the psychopath doesn’t possess real empathy—although they are adept at faking it—their ability to see consequences of their actions is limited to the furtherance of their own agenda.

“Violence in sociopaths is erratic and unplanned. They’re easier to identify and apprehend as they generally leave behind a large trail of clues. Psychopaths often plan for years to exact revenge. They’re difficult to catch because they calculate each step of the act to ensure they will commit their crime undetected.

“When a normal person does something wrong (mean, bad, embarrassing, rude) our autonomic nervous system causes our heart to race, we sweat, and we look around. A psychopath doesn’t have the same response. That’s why they’re able to lie on polygraph tests and get away with it—they literally don’t care.

“PET scans reveal that the part of the brain that exhibits empathy doesn’t light up in psychopaths. They have glib, shallow charm, and tend to be intelligent. They learn behavior to assimilate into society, but it’s all a facade.”

Joe sets the paperwork down and walks across the room to a large map of the United States tacked on the wall. Although his gait is sure and measured, he is grim-faced and pale. With his index finger, he traces a line from location to location of the hotel murders in the order they occurred. Crossing multiple state lines, the killer is spider-like, weaving an intricate web. Brilliant about covering his tracks, he never strikes in the same state twice.

Joe walks back to his desk, grabs a pen and recreates the path on a piece of paper to see if there might be a recognizable shape, a symbol of some sort. No such luck.

In each case, the killer used a different alias, but his MO remained the same—hotel rooms, rental cars, and disabled cameras. His method of rape and murder were identical with one exception—the wrists of the last eight women had been bound together with zip-tie restraints. But the most chilling consistency is the killer’s psychopathic predilection for premeditated violence—what Dr. Hamilton referred to as an “intra-species predator who preys on humanity.”

Joe feels the onslaught of information stretching about inside his brain, unfolding its many tentacles. Picking up the handout again, he continues reading. “When a psychopath goes to jail, he doesn’t get upset. It’s viewed as ‘the cost of doing business.’

“Most people who commit domestic or intimate-partner violence are either narcissistic or psychopathic. The psychopath will simply dispose of you if you get in their way.”

Joe scrubs his hands over his face. I’ve been on the force long enough to know that given the right motivation, we’re all capable of murder.

He continues to read. “Empathy is a positive emotion. A psychopath isn’t empathetic, but they’re very understanding. They can read and understand a person’s vulnerability and use it to leverage their power.”

Shaking his head, Joe puts the handout back in his desk drawer. With the information he’s gathered, he wonders, Why haven’t the police put these murders together? Why aren’t they linked?

He realizes that the answer is on the computer screen in front of him. The crimes had been committed so far apart—in time and distance—that up until now, each one was viewed as a one-off crime, not as part of a series.

Patterns and connections. They were there all along, just waiting to be made.

“This discussion isn’t open for negotiation,” Libby says to Cynthia as she leads her down the hall to the guest bedroom.

“But I can rest just as well in Brontë cottage as I can here,” Cynthia counters.

“You heard Dr. Zimmerman just as well as I did,” Libby continues. “She said that if we were ‘back in the day,’ you’d be in the hospital for at least a week. But times have changed. And though you’re medically fit for discharge, that doesn’t mean that you’re well. It merely means that the hospital needs the bed.”

Libby continues, pointing first to herself, then to Cynthia. “And Dr. Zimmerman put me in charge of you because she doesn’t want you to get ‘revolving door syndrome.’ She doesn’t want to see you back in the hospital. Her orders were for you to come home with me, stay put, and get well.” And though she’s smiling, Libby’s statement brooks no argument.

Entering the guest bedroom, Libby can’t help but notice Cynthia’s eyes widen in appreciation. “It’s beautiful,” she says. Admiring the sun-weathered beige with hues of aqua, rose, and ochre, she continues, “I love the colors and fabrics you chose.”

“I do too,” Libby says. “Sometimes I hope Niall’s snoring gets so loud that I have to come in here to sleep. I love the serenity in this space.”

Walking toward the distressed white plantation shutters, an accent piece in the corner, Cynthia touches the nightgown draped over the top. “This looks like my nightgown.”

“Yes, I hope you don’t mind. I went to your cottage and gathered a few things, including your toiletries,” Libby finishes, pointing to the ensuite bathroom.

“You’ve thought of everything.” Cynthia smiles. “Thank