“Why is this one so messy?” Steph asked me once we were alone again.
“What do you mean?” I asked in return.
“The girl from yesterday, she was, what’s the word I’m looking for?”
“Cleaner?”
“Yes, that’s it. She was killed a lot cleaner, if you can call it that. This looks more frenzied, as if the killer lost control.”
“Maybe he was out of control and just, you know, went nuts.” I wasn’t sure what to think, other than the fact that this girl had died in the most nightmarish way imaginable. I wanted to find the disturbed individual responsible for this suffering and I didn’t want to be side-tracked by useless distractions. I was about to share my thoughts with Steph when there was a loud crash of the front door and then multiple heavy footsteps coming up the hallway. Judging by the voices, it sounded like the cavalry had just arrived.
6.
Steph decided to head off and let the coroner do what they needed to. If they made any significant discoveries, and I was fairly positive the killer would not be that relaxed, they would let us know as soon as humanly possible. This freed Steph and I up to think-tank our next move. We went back outside, the air smelling like a spring morning after a thunderstorm, clean and fresh, my lungs sucking in the big gulps, trying to expel the nastiness from my airways. I passed on the cigarette Steph offered me, having quit a couple of years before. She, however, lit up and drew back hard, expelling the smoke with a kind of relief, judging by the low groan that accompanied the smoky streams emanating from her nostrils. I could see a tear running down the side of her face and took a few steps in the opposite direction to give her space.
“Where are you going?” she suddenly asked, and as I turned around, saw her wipe the tear angrily away as she took another drag. “We have to find him, Jim. Whatever it takes. That fucking monster…” she hesitated for a moment, looking at her feet, “we have to find him.”
“We will, Steph, I promise. I will do everything I possib-” Another police car suddenly pulled up beside us. Although I heard it approaching, the urgency in Steph’s voice kept me from registering it fully. It now pulled alongside our car, one window winding down, the officer behind the glass beckoning to us. He simply shouted his message to us before we had a chance to move.
“Chief wants to see you, Connor.” Steph gave him a gimmicky salute then headed to her own car, turning to see if I was following. The other police car had stopped and three officers were now climbing out and hurrying towards the building, anxiety clearly plastered on their faces.
7.
We drove in silence, Steph’s lighter the only sound to break it, as she lit another cigarette. The aroma filled the cabin and for a moment, a very brief moment, I wanted to rip one from her packet, spark it up and pull on it in one long delightful drag. But the temptation quickly subsided, the craving so much easier to control these days, and I wound the window down a little to let some cool air in. Steph figured the smoke was annoying me and butted it out.
“No, it’s OK, seriously. I just wanted some air after smelling that shit back there.” She gave me a strained smile and turned the car onto the main street, then into the police station car park a minute or so later. I could tell she wasn’t in the mood for bullshit, and to tell you the truth? Neither was I.
8.
We climbed the steps to the front door and entered the watch house, one officer bent over the counter, reading a newspaper. He half jumped as we came through the door, saw Steph and gave her a half-arsed wave, his eyes dropping back down to continue reading.
“He’s in his office,” he mumbled at us as we strolled behind the counter, although he did give me an ‘up and down’ as I passed him.
“Thanks, Pete,” Steph said. I followed her down a short corridor, then waited as she knocked.
“Come in,” came through the door and she opened it.
Frank sat at his desk, his elbows resting on top of it, face cradled in hands.
“Tell me something interesting, Jim, please,” he said, not looking up.
“I doubt whether it’s him, Frank.” That did make him look up. Made him sit back and ponder my words for the briefest of moments.
“You could tell just by seeing one victim?”
“No not exactly. This one just, I don’t know, it felt different. It was too messy, too angry. If it was a copycat, he lost control.”
“Too angry?” he asked. I wasn’t even sure what I meant by it, let alone trying to explain it.
“I’m not sure how to put it any other way. Every victim that I had ever seen of his, was controlled, precise, almost surgical. This victim. Frank,” I paused, thinking of the right words that would convey my gut feeling, “she looked like whoever had killed her, was in such a frenzy that he nearly tore her completely to pieces. It was a feverish attack.” Frank just sat and stared at me, mouth slightly open, looking like he wanted to mouth something.
“Jim and I’ll be canvassing all the houses in the neighbourhood, Chief,” Steph chipped in. Frank didn’t even look at her, or acknowledge her comment.
“And what do you think is the next logical course of action, besides door-knocking,” he said, finally shooting a glance in Steph’s direction, as if to highlight her lack of direction, then refocusing on me. “I don’t want you two knocking on doors. I’ve got other officers for that.”
“We’ll get him, Frank. Just give us a moment to catch our breath.”
“Just make sure you keep me informed, guys. Please.” We agreed, bid our farewells and stepped out of the
