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Fionastared at the blank wall across the room, her mind racing yet paralyzed by theweight of both personal and professional burdens. She shook her head, forcingherself to refocus on the task at hand. They were running out of time to catchthis killer, and she couldn't afford to let her personal life interfere withthe case.
"Getit together, Fiona," she muttered under her breath as her fingers tappedrestlessly on the wooden table. She needed to review the facts they had to workwith on the case rather than try to pull something out of nothing.
Theyknew Seymour Smith had been killed at a museum in Nevada, entomology wing. Andthey knew that the traveling entomology exhibit here in Portland had been inNevada at that time. They also knew that another murder had occurred at thisexhibit yesterday. So what they did know was that the killer moved with theexhibit.
"Maybe..."she whispered to herself, "maybe the killer only strikes once at eachmuseum. Targeting one victim before moving on to the next exhibit."
Theidea sent a shiver down her spine, but it made sense. It would explain why theywere always one step behind, why the trail went cold so quickly. If this theorywere correct, then their best chance of catching the killer would be waitingfor the exhibit to move again, hoping they'd strike at the new location. Butthat was far too risky. It would mean letting another person's life hang in thebalance like bait. Fiona couldn't condone that.
Sheknew it was a dangerous gamble, but what other options did they have? It feltlike a losing battle, like grasping at straws in a hurricane. But if there waseven the slightest chance that her theory was right, Fiona knew she had to takeit.
As thedetermination welled up inside her, Fiona vowed that she would put an end tothis nightmare. She wouldn't let the darkness consume her, not when there werelives on the line.
Thedoor to the briefing room creaked open, and Jake reappeared, his arms ladenwith paper bags of steaming takeout. The aroma of grilled chicken and spiceswafted through the air, making Fiona's empty stomach growl in anticipation.
"Finally,sustenance," Jake declared, setting the bags down on the table with aflourish. "Now, tell me you've got some good news to go with thisfeast."
Fionahesitated for a moment, her thoughts once again straying back to her landlady'sphone call. She could feel the heavy weight of her sister's disappearanceresting on her chest, but she knew now wasn't the time to bring it up. Instead,she focused on her new theory about the killer.
"Maybe,"she replied cautiously. "I've been thinking... what if the killer onlychooses one victim at each museum?"
Jakeraised an eyebrow, intrigued, as he began unpacking their lunch. "And thenmoves on with the exhibit? That could explain why we're always a stepbehind."
"Exactly."Fiona nodded, tearing open a plastic fork wrapper as they settled in to eat."But it also means that we might have to wait until the next exhibitopening to catch him in the act."
Herpartner frowned, considering the implications. "So, we'd have to travelwith the exhibit and hope we can stop him before he strikes again."
"Right,"Fiona confirmed, picking at her salad. Her appetite had been dampened by thegravity of their situation. "It's not ideal, I know. But it might be ourbest shot at catching this guy."
As theyate in silence, Fiona couldn't help but let her thoughts drift back to themysterious phone call. Was it possible that the man who had visited herapartment was Marcus, the witness from Damien's case? And if so, could hefinally hold the key to her sister's whereabouts?
But shecouldn't allow herself to be sidetracked by personal matters. She had a duty tothe victims of this heinous killer, and she was determined to see justiceserved. With renewed resolve, Fiona forced herself to push her private concernsaside and focus on the task at hand.
"Oncewe're done eating," she said, her voice firm and resolute, "let's goover everything we know about the exhibit and its creators. Maybe there'ssomething we've missed that could give us a lead."
"Agreed,"Jake replied, matching her determination. "We'll find this monster, Fiona.No matter what it takes."
As theyresumed their investigation, Fiona couldn't help but feel a sliver of hopepiercing through the darkness. She knew the road ahead would be long andtreacherous, but with Jake by her side, she felt certain that they wouldultimately prevail. And perhaps, in the process, she might just find theanswers she so desperately sought regarding her own past.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
DespiteFiona's new theory, they had to keep working.
The sundipped low in the sky, casting long shadows across the precinct's briefingroom. Fiona sipped her now lukewarm coffee, feeling the weight of exhaustionpress against her temples. The room hummed with the quiet sound of Jake typingon his laptop and the distant murmur of voices from the bustling stationoutside their door.
"Damn,"Fiona muttered under her breath, rubbing her eyes as she tried to focus on thecase file spread in front of her. Despite her new theory, time was slippingthrough their fingers like grains of sand, and they needed to make the most ofit. She'd fought tooth and nail to get this case assigned to her and Jake, andshe wouldn't let it go without a fight.
"Hey,Jake?" Fiona asked, leaning back in her chair and stretching her tensemuscles. "Remember when I mentioned something about the exhibit creatorsearlier?"
Jakeglanced up from his laptop, his brow furrowing as he tried to recall theirconversation. "Yeah, you said you read something online about them butdidn't have time to really dig into it. What's up?"
Fionatapped her finger against the edge of the table, her thoughts racing."I've got a gut feeling that we're missing something important about thosepeople. Something that could lead us to the killer."
"Alright,"Jake agreed, his fingers already flying over the keyboard. "Let me lookthem up again. We'll find everything there is to know about them."
As Jakesearched for information on the exhibit creators, Fiona found herself lost inthought. Her mind was a whirlwind of unanswered questions, mulling over thedetails of the case, attempting to piece them together. Somebody had to have amotive to leave those specific insects on their victims' foreheads.
"Okay,I found something interesting," Jake said, breaking through her reverie."I've pulled up their backgrounds, and it seems like we overlooked one ofthem."
