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Jakerubbed his forehead wearily. "I know. We need to keep looking through thefootage, see if we can spot anything suspicious."
Fionanodded, feeling a sense of determination washing over her. They had to find thekiller before he struck again. She leaned in closer to the monitor, her eyesscanning the grainy images for any sign of the man in the beanie.
Andthen she saw him.
There,in the corner of the frame, was a glimpse of a figure in a dark hoodie, movingquickly through the crowd. Fiona's heart raced as she leaned in closer, tryingto make out more details. It took place after the time of the murder, whichmeant it could be him.
"Jake,"she said urgently, pointing at the screen. "Look."
Jakeleaned in closer, his eyes following her finger. "What am I lookingat?"
"Thatguy," Fiona said, her voice rising with excitement. "I think that'sour killer."
Jakestared at the screen for a moment longer, then nodded slowly. "But westill can't make out his face. It's just the same as before."
Fionabit her lip, frustration building inside of her. She had hoped that they wouldfind something more concrete, but it seemed like they were back to square one.
"Let'sjust keep reviewing the footage," Jake said. "There has to besomething else."
Fionanodded and settled in beside Jake.
CHAPTER EIGHT
He'ddone it again.
Therelentless sun scorched the pavement as he darted through the Portland streettraffic, weaving between the people who littered the sidewalk, his heartpounding in sync with each frantic step. Sweat trickled down the side of hisface as he dodged a car horn blaring its warning. He barely registered it; hismind was focused on escape.
"Hey!Watch it, buddy!" yelled a pedestrian as he narrowly avoided collision,but he ignored them.
Histhoughts were consumed by the feeling he'd just had of driving his knife intothe chest of a man.
Findingan alleyway, he slipped into the shadows, his chest heaving as adrenalinecoursed through his veins. The sudden chill of the shade swept over him, butthe thrill of the kill still burned within. He hadn't planned on killing anyonetoday. It just happened.
Heclosed his eyes for a moment, recalling how he had enjoyed the exhibit as healways did. The intricate display of beetles and butterflies had held his gaze,their tiny bodies arranged like a macabre mosaic.
But then...that man.
Thatman had become a murderer before his very eyes.
"Damnhim," he muttered under his breath, his voice ragged. He gritted histeeth, feeling the weight of the knife still tucked in his belt. With atrembling hand, he wiped the sweat from his brow and took a deep breath. Regretwas not something he could afford. The man deserved to die. But now he had todeal with avoiding the police.
Histhoughts drifted back to the exhibit. Were the bugs okay? Would they bedisturbed by the commotion? He longed to return and ensure their well-being,but he knew he couldn't. The authorities would be swarming the scene, searchingfor him.
Heleaned against the cold brick wall, listening to the distant wail of sirens.They were coming for him, but he had no intention of getting caught. He was notprey. And like all skilled predators, he would slip away unnoticed, waiting forthe next opportunity to strike.
"Think...think," he whispered, his voice barely audible as the sirens grew closer.His mind raced, images of the entomology exhibit and his impulsive killflashing through his thoughts. The man had deserved it; that much he knew. Butnow, he needed to vanish like a phantom into the wind. But it was too risky toleave yet.
As muchas he had enjoyed plunging the knife into that murderer's chest, this certainlychanged things for him. He wanted to get back to the exhibit and admire thebeautiful insects, but when could he return?
It wasthat man's own damn fault. Why did he have to disrespect the exhibit like that?
Why didyou make me kill you?
Heclenched his jaw, feeling cold and hot all at once.
He hadto come up with a plan and fast. His eyes scanned the alleyway, searching forany means of escape. That's when he saw it: a rusty fire escape ladder leadingup the side of the building. Without hesitation, he began to climb.
Theladder groaned under his weight, but he climbed faster, fueled by fear anddetermination. He reached the rooftop and collapsed onto the gravel, gaspingfor breath. The police sirens were getting louder, but he was safe for now.
