SENTIENT

Apprehension

It was four in the morning when Dr. Angelo Galloway finished getting through all of this substantial data on deviants' behavior. The two of them went through every serial killer scenario and inferred how some cases aligns with the breadcrumb that this deviant's left behind. There's only one more thing left to answer.

"So, what is he doing with these victims, Doctor?" She slouched forward, placing aside the empty bowl of soup next to the crime scene photographs on the coffee table.

The fireplace was their only source of light. With many forethoughts, the doctor examined the photos for the hundredth time tonight. This right eye zooming in and out of focus on the smallest details that could pick up an explanation for the Blueblood Ripper's purpose in killing.

"I mean, the kidneys missing, liver, skin patches, what else? Lungs?" The doctor asked.

"Heart and brain on the fifth and seventh victim," said AJ.

"Organ traffickers tend to go for the same types of organs," he said. "They're usually quick with the victims and not many leave them to die like this."

"Alright, we were wrong about organ trafficking, but we were right about them being a medical professional," AJ said, confidently.

"Not quite," said Galloway. "Hand me the autopsy report for the fourth victim, please."

She does as he told. Waited for a few minutes until he re-read the paragraphs a few repeated times. She stared into the fire, without letting it remind her of a certain warmth.

The doctor held an autopsy photograph closer to the fire, he pointed at marks on the victim's arm. There were patches taken out of the victim's arms, close to the cubital veins. "Look," he started.

"The report says the cause of death was circulatory dysfunction, but it wasn't from the getting their livers extracted. It was from a repeated loss of blood," he said.

Something about the way he said it, made it come alive inside her head and she cringed at the thought of it. She looked away a second later, "Why would he do that?"

"He's draining the victim's blood," Galloway said with conviction.

She stood from her seat. It's been hours and she has been listening to Galloway explain the horrendous procedures the Blueblood Ripper performed on the victims. At this point, it wasn't fresh air she needed, it was a complete profile.

"Alright, what does that mean?"

"He's an obsessive psychopath with God complex, who performs surgical procedures on human victims he perceived to be at a prime age."

"And what about his victims who were androids?"

"Androids are designed to be flawless, prone to diseases, and their organ parts are built to be highly efficient," said Galloway. "I think there's something about it that he needs. He's trying to prove something, maybe a theory."

"This whole thing is a big experiment to him?"

"Surgical wounds are entirely ante-mortem. He keeps them awake for the procedures, but the personal wounds are all inflicted before the dumping by the accomplice," Galloway circled several details in the crime scene photographs to explain himself.

"What relationship do you think he has with his accomplice?"

"The guy who helps him is the typical submissive partner with a weaker psyche," he sighed. "He's likely to trust his dominant partner, but his partner doesn't necessarily trust him. That said, he has a way to control him, to get him to do his bidding the way he wants it done. We don't know what or how yet."

Angelo Galloway stepped away for a second. He searched from one compartment of his bookcase to another. Finally, found the map of Detroit area he needed. He unfolds and spread it over the scattered documents on the coffee table, "Come look."

She stood over the coffee table and watched as he scribbled crosses on the map to indicate where each victim was last seen and where their bodies were dumped.

"It's simple geographic profiling." With his left hand, he drew a large circle encompassing the crosses, "He's a local killer. He prefers to find his victims closer to home, but dumps them outside of the buffer zone where people won't know the victim."

"Close to home, but he's not afraid to be recognized himself?" AJ asked.

"He's already a hermit," he said. This time, he drew a smaller circle somewhere in the middle of the first one. "Your killer will get his next victim around this area. Chances are he will bring them back to an isolated cabin or an abandoned factory. A place where he can easily transport his victims, but also make sure nobody can hear him working."

It has been six hours since the last victim was discovered. At this point, AJ imagines the Blueblood Ripper is already getting back to work. Selecting and then stalking his next target in the streets of night time Detroit.

She knew what she had to do next. She said, "Dr. Galloway, I have no idea how to thank you, but I promise I will once I catch this son of a–"

He shook his head vehemently, "Now, where do you think you're going, detective?"

"It's been six hours since–"

"You know, since you got here, you never once showed me your badge and I see that you're not armed," he interrupted. "You don't hurry to drive back to Detroit even if the drive will take you another four hours. You've done a lot of thinking, but you've also been doing a lot of reflecting by staring into that fire there."

AJ stopped in her tracks, standing idly by the front door. She gave in to his insights, she said, "Doctor, you can stop profiling me now."

"You haven't smoked at all, even with a pack of cigarettes in your pocket. You're trying to stay awake. You plan to take this guy down all by yourself."

"Not that I have a choice." She revealed, "My partner was shot because I couldn't do my job! Now this guy is about to take another life and that's another loss I have to take on."

"You really think it will help if you make it personal?" He asked in utter disbelief.

"I'm the only one out here trying to find this sicko!"

"Did you listen to a word I told you? The profile said this guy is compulsive! He's obsessive, but he doesn't have a problem rearranging his priorities the moment someone tries to be a hero."

The two of them walked a few steps away into their own spaces, trying to regroup their minds individually before they come together to do the right thing. AJ brushed her hair back in foiling turmoil, breaking a few strands of her hair in the process.

He handled his breathing to a normal pace and when he tried to see things from her perspective, he finally came up with a crazy idea. One that sounds wrong, yet feels right, but it's the only one they've got.

"Check in with me every five minutes," he instructed. His bionic eye blinking green as he spoke, "Start with neighborhood with higher crime rates. His peak hour should be between twelve and two midnight, you got that?"