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"Let's wrap it up here," Jake decided. He gestured to the forensics team who had been standing by patiently. "Go over everything. We need all the DNA and evidence you can find."
"Be thorough," Fiona called out to the forensic analysts. Her mind raced with possibilities, but she knew the importance of concrete evidence. They needed something tangible to lead them to the killer’s doorstep.
With their part done, Fiona followed Jake through the front door. They stepped into the chill of the morning, the sky pale and the air crisp. She pulled her jacket tighter around her, trying to ward off the cold and the unease that clung to her after being inside Jamie's home. She stood in silence with Jake for a few moments before she noticed him looking back at the condo with something like nostalgia in his warm brown eyes.
"Reminds me of where I grew up," Jake said, his voice more subdued than usual. "Family dinners, game nights... until it wasn't."
The memory of Jake's revelation hit Fiona afresh. His mother, lifeless in their kitchen, a scene that now lay imprinted on his career and drive. It was a wound that never fully healed, a private agony she'd seen flare with cases like these. This one, especially, must have been a trigger for him; each victim was found left in their kitchen, after all.
"This case… it must remind you of that," she ventured cautiously.
Jake's eyes met hers, a flicker of vulnerability before the shutters came down. "Yeah, it stirs things up. But I'm fine, Red. We've got work to do." His tone left no room for debate, yet it couldn't mask the shadow that crossed his features.
Fiona nodded, though concern knotted her stomach. She knew better than to push; Jake had walls that weren't easily scaled. Instead, she shifted focus back to the case at hand.
"Jamie's colleagues might know something about her final days," Jake suggested, starting toward their vehicle.
"Could give us insight into any irregularities in her routine, someone taking undue interest," Fiona agreed. They needed to understand Jamie Lin beyond the crime scene tape and silent walls of her condo.
"Let's head to her martial arts studio," Jake said, his stride purposeful.
Fiona fell in step beside him, her mind already cataloging questions for Jamie's associates. Patterns, behaviors, anything that could lead them closer to understanding the predator they hunted—one who seemed to prey on women of strength and discipline.
CHAPTER FOUR
Fiona stepped into the martial arts studio, the scent of clean sweat and polished wood filling her senses. Mid-morning light spilled across the array of mats that lay disciplined in rows on the floor. She could almost hear the echo of a class in session, the sharp kiai shouts punctuating the air. This was where Jamie Lin had honed her craft, where she had last been alive before the night turned murderous.
"Can I help you?" the receptionist asked, pulling Fiona from her thoughts.
"Agent Red, FBI," she introduced herself succinctly, flashing her badge. Beside her, Jake did the same, his movements certain and quick.
"Agent Tucker," he said, his voice carrying an undercurrent of urgency.
The young man behind the counter paled slightly. He nodded, eager to assist. "I heard about Jamie," he said, his voice tinged with disbelief. "She was...one of our best." The words seemed inadequate, hanging heavy between them. “She was amazing as both a student and a teacher.”
"Did she teach here often?" Fiona asked, her mind cataloging every detail.
"Sometimes, the kids' classes" – the receptionist gestured vaguely toward the mats – "she was great with them."
Fiona absorbed the information, her gaze lingering on the open space where Jamie Lin's presence was now just a memory. The silence of the studio was a contrast to the violent end she met, alone in her home. Fiona thought of the orb-weaver spiders left behind, their webs an eerie testament to the killer's signature.
"Is there anything else you can tell us about her time here?" Jake inquired, his tone gentle yet probing.
The receptionist shook his head, his earnestness clear. "She was dedicated, always the first one in. It’s hard to believe she’s gone," he added, his voice dropping.
Fiona noted the slight tremor in his words, the way his eyes didn't quite meet theirs. Jamie Lin's death hadn't just taken a life; it had cast a shadow over this place of strength and discipline. The stark reality of mortality had breached these walls. And somewhere out there, a killer was weaving a web of violence that they had to unravel.
Fiona watched the receptionist, noting the way his hands fidgeted on the counter. "Can you describe Jamie? Her habits, her demeanor?" she asked.
"Sure." He paused, collecting his thoughts. "Jamie was... intense. She took training seriously, and I mean beyond the physical stuff. It was like a philosophy for her," he said with a reverence that bordered on admiration. "Discipline, respect, all that. She lived it."
"Independent?" Jake chimed in, leaning closer.
"Absolutely. Handled everything herself, never asked for help unless she really needed it." The receptionist straightened a stack of flyers, avoiding their gaze. "She had this aura, y'know? Strong, unshakeable. A lot of us admired her for that."
Fiona nodded, picturing Jamie moving across the mats with purpose, the embodiment of controlled power. She could almost see her there—a specter of resilience—leaving imprints on the hearts and minds she'd touched.
"Did she have many friends here?" Fiona probed further, seeking connections, threads to follow in the tangled web of the investigation.
