Presumed Guilty: (A Jefferson Winter Novella) - Plot & Excerpts
She was sitting on the edge of the bed, Winter beside her. He was close enough so she knew he was there, but not so close that he invaded her personal space. It showed a degree of empathy she wouldn’t have expected from someone so young. A degree of empathy she certainly wouldn’t have expected from a psychopath. The last five minutes had left her feeling unclean and somehow violated. It was as though Winter had taken her inside Valentino’s head and given her the full tour. She’d given lectures where she’d talked at length about getting inside the minds of serial killers, and she’d thought that’s what she did. She was wrong. Winter had taken her deeper than she’d ever been, deeper than she ever wanted to go again. She needed a cigarette, badly. But that would mean standing up and putting her shoes back on and going outside, and that wasn’t about to happen any time soon. ‘The way the bodies were posed was never for our benefit,’ she said.
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