for Gifford for twenty minutes. The library was neat and orderly, quiet and grand, with floor-to-ceiling brown brick walls and wood panel insets, black granite countertops and a three-story central atrium. Against a wall stood a silent grandfather clock that, Vail noticed, was running fifteen minutes slow.
Gifford walked in with a scowl on his large face and sat down hard at the table to her right. He pulled out his PDA and began making notes with the stylus, completely ignoring Vail’s presence. But she knew what was going on. With her background in psychology, it was quite clear. He was maneuvering for control, establishing who was in charge. He was telling her that he would talk to her when he was ready—and that she would have to come to him.
Vail decided to play a little control game of her own. She opened a book she had brought with her to class, which happened to be the bible of investigators worldwide—a reference text on violent crimes written by the founding FBI profilers. She had been through the Crime Classification Manual several times in the past and wasn’t really reading it now. However, showing Gifford that she was not put off by his behavior neutralized the power he was trying to assert over her.
Vail thumbed through the pages. Gifford pecked away with his stylus. She wondered how long he was planning to keep up the charade. She knew he was reaching when he began poking at the tiny on-screen keyboard, one letter at a time. There was just so much patience someone could have with that.
“Turn to page two sixty-one.”
Vail looked up, unsure if he was talking to her. “Sir?”
“Page two sixty-one. Bottom of the page, I believe.”
Gifford was referring to the section on MO and signature. She closed the text and turned to face him. He was looking at her, his expression telling her he thought he had made his point. “Sir, this was written over twenty-five years ago. It was groundbreaking back then, but it’s outdated. Or at least incomplete.”
“Karen Vail, crack profiler for six years, says that the preeminent research on the topic is outdated. Well let me tell you something, Agent Vail. Human behavior doesn’t change—”
“But the way we look at it and classify it does.”
“Let’s get one thing straight. If you want to write a research paper filled with your personal theories, go ahead. Get it published if you can. Hell, when you retire you can follow in the paths of John Douglas and Thomas Underwood and write several goddamn books on the topic. But until your theory is generally accepted procedure, you stick with what is. I want you out there expounding these principles. Outdated as you may think they are.”
“Sir—”
“I think I’ve made myself clear. Now, whether you’re teaching new agents or out in the field giving lectures to the law enforcement community, the message has to be consistent. And right now, that means quoting chapter and verse from that manual you hold in your hands.”
“Sir, in the beginning all of this was theory. The principles you speak about arose from a group of agents’ understanding of criminology and their personal beliefs.”
“Wrong. Their principles arose from thousands of hours of interviews with prisoners and years of painstaking research into the minds of these killers. Their principles have helped lead to the arrest and conviction of hundreds of violent offenders over the years.”
“I’m well aware of that. And I have tremendous respect for them and their work—”
“But you think you’ve come up with something they didn’t think of.”
“Yes, sir, I do.”
“Fine. Keep it to yourself. When you’ve done exhaustive research and can prove your theories, I’ll be willing to listen to what you have to say. Until then, you’re mute on the subject.”
He rose from his chair and headed out of the library, leaving Vail at the adjacent table, chewing
Gifford walked in with a scowl on his large face and sat down hard at the table to her right. He pulled out his PDA and began making notes with the stylus, completely ignoring Vail’s presence. But she knew what was going on. With her background in psychology, it was quite clear. He was maneuvering for control, establishing who was in charge. He was telling her that he would talk to her when he was ready—and that she would have to come to him.
Vail decided to play a little control game of her own. She opened a book she had brought with her to class, which happened to be the bible of investigators worldwide—a reference text on violent crimes written by the founding FBI profilers. She had been through the Crime Classification Manual several times in the past and wasn’t really reading it now. However, showing Gifford that she was not put off by his behavior neutralized the power he was trying to assert over her.
Vail thumbed through the pages. Gifford pecked away with his stylus. She wondered how long he was planning to keep up the charade. She knew he was reaching when he began poking at the tiny on-screen keyboard, one letter at a time. There was just so much patience someone could have with that.
“Turn to page two sixty-one.”
Vail looked up, unsure if he was talking to her. “Sir?”
“Page two sixty-one. Bottom of the page, I believe.”
Gifford was referring to the section on MO and signature. She closed the text and turned to face him. He was looking at her, his expression telling her he thought he had made his point. “Sir, this was written over twenty-five years ago. It was groundbreaking back then, but it’s outdated. Or at least incomplete.”
“Karen Vail, crack profiler for six years, says that the preeminent research on the topic is outdated. Well let me tell you something, Agent Vail. Human behavior doesn’t change—”
“But the way we look at it and classify it does.”
“Let’s get one thing straight. If you want to write a research paper filled with your personal theories, go ahead. Get it published if you can. Hell, when you retire you can follow in the paths of John Douglas and Thomas Underwood and write several goddamn books on the topic. But until your theory is generally accepted procedure, you stick with what is. I want you out there expounding these principles. Outdated as you may think they are.”
“Sir—”
“I think I’ve made myself clear. Now, whether you’re teaching new agents or out in the field giving lectures to the law enforcement community, the message has to be consistent. And right now, that means quoting chapter and verse from that manual you hold in your hands.”
“Sir, in the beginning all of this was theory. The principles you speak about arose from a group of agents’ understanding of criminology and their personal beliefs.”
“Wrong. Their principles arose from thousands of hours of interviews with prisoners and years of painstaking research into the minds of these killers. Their principles have helped lead to the arrest and conviction of hundreds of violent offenders over the years.”
“I’m well aware of that. And I have tremendous respect for them and their work—”
“But you think you’ve come up with something they didn’t think of.”
“Yes, sir, I do.”
“Fine. Keep it to yourself. When you’ve done exhaustive research and can prove your theories, I’ll be willing to listen to what you have to say. Until then, you’re mute on the subject.”
He rose from his chair and headed out of the library, leaving Vail at the adjacent table, chewing
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