Sociopath Read Online Free Page B

would have been more public if he wanted her humiliated. He chose a quiet spot in the woods twenty miles from the nearest house or store. Especially now, it’s easy for this type of sociopath to attain humiliation for his victims. There’s been a surge of rapists forcing their victims to post photos on their Facebook accounts while they’re raped. It’s ultimate humiliation to force all their friends and family to have to see that. He didn’t want humiliation.”
    “Then what did he want?”
    “He wanted a substitute. That’s what the branch was. We’re looking for someone incapable of sex, at least that night. Either through injury or some sort of neurosis that won’t allow it. But he thought he would be able to perform. He would have brought something with him if he was certain he wouldn’t be able to do it rather than just grabbing a branch. He thought he’d be able to, but when he actually got there he wasn’t. So he grabbed whatever was nearby.”
    She shrugged. “That’s one theory I guess.”
    I rose and exhaled as I did so, feeling a tug of pain in my knees. I was old enough now that even getting up caused a slight bit of pain.
    “I’d like to meet her parents.”

8
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
    The home was tucked away in what appeared like the back of the city. You had to wind through several neighborhoods to reach it , and Melissa, who was driving an FBI-issued sedan, only found it by using GPS. I was sitting in the backseat and Adam was in the passenger. He didn’t think I noticed but he would glance back at me in the rearview.
    Heber appeared like the type of place you would want to raise a family. It was small and quaint with hometown values . I could picture the high school football game being the highlight of any weekend followed by burgers and fries at the local burger joint.
    But small towns always had dark underbellies. People, particu larly the young, grew bored easily and would search for ways to entertain themselves. High instances of drug and alcohol abuse were rampant in small Western and Midwestern towns and the new drug of choice was methamphetamine, not marijuana, mostly for the cost and the sustained high.
    With the drugs came burglaries and robberies, and with them came sexual assaults and murders. The FBI was reporting that all crime was down, but the vast majority of crimes occurred behind closed doors without anyone ever finding out. The spouse beaten nightly by an alcoholic husband, the child raped repeatedly by a stepfather, the housewife prostituting herself to keep up a methamphetamine addiction … these were rarely caught and prosecuted. If all crime were tallied and totaled and everyone was made aware, I’m not sure most of this country could sleep at night.
    We parked at the curb and I watched the house a moment.
    “Remember you’re not law enforcement,” Adam said, “so don’t hold yourself out as an officer.”
    I disregarded him and opened the door and stepped outside. The warm air had the scent of pine and though I was exhausted I felt like I had enough energy to ignore sleep.
    A paved driveway led to a walkway over the lawn and to the front door. I followed Melissa and Adam. He knocked and glanced to me to make certain I wasn’t, somehow, acting like law enforcement.
    A woman in her forties answered. “Can I help you?”
    Adam pulled out his badge. “Federal Bureau of Investigation. Do you mind if we have a minute?”
    “Um, yeah. Sure. What’s this about?”
    “It’s about your daughter.”
    She swallowed. “Come inside,” she said, visibly shaken.
    We entered the home and I tagged behind. Melissa and Adam were led to the living room and sat on a couch as Mrs. Ochoa sat on a recliner. She crossed her legs and didn’t allow herself to speak first. I looked to the mantle over the small fireplace. They were all photos of Tiffany at various stages of life, the last one being her high school graduation.
    Adam opened up an iPad. I could see the