The Color of Trauma by Hollie Smurthwaite

Author:Hollie Smurthwaite
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Hollie Smurthwaite
Published: 2021-12-15T00:00:00+00:00

38

Dean

Dean recognized the woman immediately despite her looking little as she had when he’d last seen her, sitting next to him at the crisis hotline. Back then, she’d worn yoga pants and a UIC sweatshirt so large she had to roll the sleeves at the wrist. She always kept an array of snacks surrounding her phone station: Cheetos, Combos, and Charleston Chews she’d frozen and then smashed into bite-size pieces.

Now, she was dressed in a fitted, white, button-down shirt tucked into black slacks and black wingtip shoes with a low heel. Her sloppy, blond ponytail had morphed into a slick version with the elastic hidden by a lock of hair. Her Glock and badge were snapped onto her belt. Grace Page was a Fed. His Fed?

“Hey, stranger.” Grace wrapped him in a hug. “I was so happy to see your name in the file.”

“You’re our profiler?” Dean hoped she attributed his surprise to knowing her and not that she was female. He had assumed the profiler would be a man, and that assumption shamed him.

“Yep. Who would’ve thought fifteen years ago we’d find ourselves here? Small world, right?”

“Yeah, but in a good way.”

Grace mowed through high points of the years since they’d seen each other. She’d gotten a PsyD in forensic psychology, had been with the bureau for over seven years, and lived in Virginia, working out of Quantico. Grace assisted with serial cases: robbers, rapists, killers. She’d been gregarious and sensitive back at UIC, always engaging callers and always knowing the best words to make them feel heard and understood. She was a great fit as a profiler.

Dean’s summary of his life took less time because he’d gotten his bachelor’s degree in psychology and had done nothing with it, joining the force not even a year out of college. He had a stellar confession rate, but Grace’s position as a profiler might have made that a cute accomplishment since she analyzed criminals full-time for a living. His biggest pride was his long-term partnership with Curt, though that was more something that just happened rather than anything he’d done. Still, that was how he focused his share of the conversation.

Dean shifted to business. “You been looking through the files?”

She gestured to the chair to her left. “Yes. Sit, sit. I’ve been dying to talk to you about the memory surgeon.”

His world jolted to a swift stop. “That’s what you want to discuss?”

“Hey, I’ve studied serial killers in depth, but a memory surgeon?” She smacked her lips as if she’d eaten something delicious. “Fascinating. I think they’re vastly underutilized tools. So far, anyway.”

Tools. Dean swallowed down the acrid taste in his mouth. “Yeah?”

Curt arrived, thankfully killing the moment, and Grace introduced herself to his partner.

“What made you call in a memory surgeon?” Grace asked Curt, resurrecting the conversation Dean would rather remain dead.

Curt shook his head but straightened his shoulders. “I thought it was all bullshit, but having met one . . .” He sighed. “Kiera knew details she couldn’t possibly have guessed, and when we followed them up, we found evidence.

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