“I don’t know, Mike. We know he is in sales, right? Or is he a customer that just happened to go to the same place as all these different women?” Liz pointed to the array of victims that they had found. Overnight and with hours of more research, they had unearthed four more victims that fit the pattern and the pressure of the case was weighing heavier on them. Not only were they responsible for helping bring closure to almost a dozen families now, but they were taking on the task of ending any future victimization. All this was on their shoulders and yet they were clueless as to how to solve it.
“Liz, we have to take a step back. We are too close to this.” Mike said to her, as he stood up and stretched his arms attempting to shake the stiffness from hours of sitting down. She nodded, her hands in her head as she closed her eyes and took a deep breath.
“Alright, let’s pack it in for the night. Maybe a few hours of sleep will bring a new perspective.” Liz said, standing up and following him to the door.
“First thing in the morning, we are going to talk to that son of a bitch coffee kid from the mugshot photo.” Mike said.
“Craig? Yeah, I agree. There is more there that we haven’t pulled out of him yet. I know that jackass knows something.” Liz pulled on her jacket and followed her partner out of the precinct. The two didn’t even say goodbye because their thoughts were so deeply buried in traveling the maze of this case, as if they were attempting to find their way out with a blindfold on.
This is one fucked up case, Liz thought as she got into her car and headed home for a good night’s sleep.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Liz walked down the steps of her Washington, DC apartment towards her car parked on the street the next morning. It was chilly so she was bundled up tight in her coat but was feeling a lot better after a few hours asleep. It was only seven in the morning, so she certainly hadn’t slept in but she knew her partner would probably still beat her to the precinct. Neither of them was going to get much sleep until this case was solved.
As she approached her car she mentally reminded herself that she really needed to concentrate more on her parallel parking, especially since she had been tired last night. The back half of her car was practically out in the street and Liz was a lifelong DC resident so that was just not acceptable. Knowing how to parallel park was one of those things that made you a Washingtonian and those who couldn’t were easily judged and shunned as if they were standing on the wrong side of a metro escalator. Mistakes that you did not make twice in this town.
She yanked open her car door rather forcefully, irritated with herself and something fell out from the crack between her car door and the frame. She reached down to pick it up off the ground and examined it. Her face suddenly clenched up as she felt anger swarm through her body, starting from her heart and slithering through her nerves into every inch of her body. She didn’t even think through the repercussions as she slammed her hand down on the hood of her small car. The sound was so loud, it echoed on the still morning streets of her neighborhood.
“Shit! I’m so done with this shit!!” Liz cussed as she pulled her hand into her chest, holding it with her other hand. Her hand was throbbing and there was a large dent in the hood of her car. She shook her head at herself and climbed into her car. She shoved the object into the visor of her car, refusing to look at yet another picture left to torment her.
The Photographer had been there again.
She couldn’t believe that he had been this close and that he knew where she lived. She continued to ruminate on her anger as she drove to the precinct and hit her already throbbing hand into the steering wheel a few times.
It was only a few minutes later when she pulled into her normal parking spot at the police station and hopped out of her car quickly, grabbing the photograph to take with her. Mike walked up to her, apparently waiting outside for her to show up. She just shoved the photograph into his hand and walked past him into the building. Mike looked down and it was a small instant photograph of Liz standing in front of her apartment door, putting the key in the lock. It looked like it was taken last night as she was arriving home based on the clothes she was wearing and the street light’s glow in the photograph.
Mike clenched his jaw and exhaled very slowly, trying to maintain his calm. If Liz was flying off the handle, he knew he had to keep it together or this whole operation was going down. He had been partners with Liz for years and loved her like a sister so the thought that a psychotic serial killer had been only a few feet away from her without her knowledge last night immediately brought out the protective older brother in him. This wasn’t just a case at work anymore, this was personal. This was their lives that The Photographer was messing with.
Mike trudged into the building behind her pounding his anger into the ground with each stomp. They headed straight back to the room where all their case files and papers will spread out from the night before. Jackets off and coffee made, the duo grabbed some photographs and other papers that they needed and started flipping through papers.