The Profiler's Daughter (Sky Stone Thriller Series) by P.M. Steffen Page A

investigation. Butera ignored the profile because he was convinced it was Wigglesworth’s business partner."
    Axelrod looked at Sky with owl eyes. "Do you mind if I ask what that profile contained?"
    “Poisoning is nonconfrontational,” said Sky, pulling socks and a pair of Doc Martens from a yellow gym bag that hung from the door. “It's a popular choice for women. Very high on the list.”
    She sat next to Kyle on the sofa and tugged the socks on over her cold feet. “Men do poison, of course, and the majority of poisoners are male. But poisoners tend to be meek, submissive men. Uncomfortable with confrontation."
    "Pussies,"  Kyle added.
    “Yes,” Sky agreed, slipping on the heavy shoes. “Wigglesworth's business partner was Jimmy Zott. Played two seasons with the Bruins in the late nineties."
    Axelrod nodded thoughtfully. "And hockey players don't poison."
    "Exactly." Sky was scanning the high bookshelves for her hypnosis texts. Where had she put those?
     "There was apparently some animosity between Wigglesworth and Zott, so it was not an entirely foolish guess on Butera's part," Kyle conceded. "But Mrs. Wigglesworth – Lydia – had visited a number of internet sites dealing with strychnine. Doctor Stone confronted her with the list of web addresses and she confessed on the spot, told us exactly how she did it. Down to the last detail.” The toothpick between Kyle’s teeth moved up and down as he spoke. “Turns out, Wigglesworth was sleeping with a couple of his waitresses. Lydia disapproved."
    Axelrod pressed on. "I don't understand. If you provided Detective Butera with the correct profile –”
    Kyle finished Axelrod’s sentence for him. "Why is Butera so hostile toward Doctor Stone? Why such animosity?" Kyle brushed an invisible hair from his sleeve. "Because Angel Butera is a dinosaur. A relic from an earlier age. Doesn't like outsiders interfering with his case." Kyle gave Sky an oblique look. "Especially when that outsider is a woman."
    Territory and sex, Sky reflected. The male psyche in a nutshell.
    She spotted the hypnosis book on a high shelf and grabbed a gray library stool to retrieve it.
    "Let me get that for you." Axelrod leapt over and took the stool from Sky.
     "The thin book, between Behavior of Organisms and Cocaine Papers ," Sky pointed to the general location.
    Axelrod reached up without the aid of the stool and drew out a small gray paperback. He began to read the title aloud.
    "Thanks." Sky grabbed the book out of his hand before Axelrod could finish.
    "I hope you're not doing what I think you’re doing," said Kyle.
    Sky slipped the hypnosis book in her back pocket without a word.
    "By the way,” Kyle chewed vigorously on the toothpick. “We’ve got an ID on our body. Some professor phoned Boston PD when the girl was a no-show at his lab this morning.
    His description included green eyes and long red hair. The roommate identified the body at the morgue about an hour ago. Dental charts should be here some time today.” He gave Sky a hopeful look. “Boston University, sweetheart. Your territory.”
    Sky pulled on her coat in silence.
    The gears of her mind were adjusting, shifting, moving into place. It happened at the start of every murder investigation and she was surprised at how comfortingly familiar it felt; almost as good as the first drag on a cigarette.
    Sky was out the door and down the steps before she realized that she wasn’t returning to Nantucket.
    Not yet.

CHAPTER EIGHT
    "You drive,” Sky called over her shoulder to Kyle. She ran down the steps two at a time to the street.
    The mist had given way to gray clouds, low and threatening. But the damp air was warm on Sky’s face and she realized that she felt a small sense of purpose.
    The blue Crown Vic was illegally parked in the bus zone across from Dunkin’ Donuts. Axelrod’s blonde cowlick bobbled in the wind as he held the door open for Sky. She slipped into the passenger seat and Kyle turned the