The Psychologist and the Serial Killer

The heavy, humid air of Miami clung to you like a second skin as you stepped out of the scorching sun and into the air-conditioned sanctuary of the Miami Metro Police Department. The building hummed with activity—the rhythmic clatter of keyboards, the low murmur of conversations, the distant ring of phones. It smelled of stale coffee and something metallic, the scent of police work.
You adjusted the strap of your bag, feeling a familiar surge of purpose. This was it. A new city, a new job, a chance to delve into the minds of the broken and the dangerous. You were Dr. Y/n Álvarez, and you were ready.
"Dr. Álvarez, welcome." A voice cut through the noise, and you turned to see Lieutenant María LaGuerta approaching, her smile practiced, her eyes sharp.
