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"BradleyCaine," she breathed, the name suddenly taking on a new significance."Could he be the key to all of this?"
Fiona'sheart raced as she came to a sudden stop, a shiver running down her spine. Thedimly lit corridor seemed to close in on her as if urging her to solve themystery. She closed her eyes for a moment, allowing the pieces of the puzzle tofall into place. Her mind flashed with images of the murdered victims and theirinsect-topped foreheads. The answer was there, within reach.
"Ofcourse," Fiona whispered, her eyes flying open. The connection... it hadbeen right there all along, staring at them. The placement of the insects onthe victims' foreheads wasn't the clue, but the insects themselves. The factthat they were all different but common... the passionate, seemingly randomkills that felt somehow persona...
Itstruck Fiona like lightning. The victims--maybe they killed those bugs, andmaybe the killer had witnessed it. Was it some sort of revenge plot? She spunaround and sprinted back towards Jake, her shoes echoing loudly against themuseum's cold, hard floors.
As sherounded the corner, she spotted Jake in a quiet corridor; his brow furrowed ashe studied the crime scene photos one more time. Fiona skidded to a halt,catching her breath before she spoke.
"Jake,I think I've figured it out," she said urgently, her voice barely above awhisper.
"Figuredwhat out?" Jake asked, raising an eyebrow as he turned to face her.
"Listen,"Fiona began, her excitement bubbling over, "I believe the victims are theones who killed the bugs that the killer has left on their foreheads. That'swhy they were chosen."
"Killedthe bugs?" Jake questioned skeptically, folding his arms across his chest."That seems like a bit of a stretch, don't you think?"
"No,it makes perfect sense," Fiona insisted, her eyes alight with conviction."The killer is punishing them for murdering the insects. It's a twistedform of justice."
"Alright,"Jake said slowly, still unconvinced but willing to hear her out. "So,let's say you're right. How do we find this killer?"
"BradleyCaine," Fiona replied, the name heavy with significance. "Hisdonations made many parts of his exhibit possible. It looks like he donatedalmost every deceased specimen, which means he's connected to the bugs, andalso this exhibit. I think he might be our guy."
Jake'seyes widened in surprise, and for a moment, he was speechless. Then, he nodded,acknowledging the weight of her words. "Okay, Red. Let's look intoit."
***
Together,Fiona and Jake navigated through the dimly lit museum, their footsteps echoingoff the polished floors. A lingering sense of unease prickled at Fiona's skin –the killer was still out there, and time was running out.
Theyfound a group of exhibit staff huddled together near the entrance, their facespale and drawn with anxiety. Fiona approached them confidently, her eyesbetraying none of the turmoil that churned within her.
"Excuseme," she began, addressing the small crowd. "Can you tell us moreabout Bradley Caine, the man who donated many of the insects for this exhibit?"
A youngwoman with dark, curly hair stepped forward. "Yes, Mr. Caine is an avidcollector of rare insects. He's been very generous with his donations to ourtraveling exhibit."
"Haveyou ever met him?" Fiona asked.
Theemployees all traded looks, then shrugged and shook their heads. "Well,no," they said. "We don't know him. His donations were mailed. Wereceived them all at once a couple of years ago."
"Wheredoes he live?" Jake asked, his voice tight and controlled.
"Helives in Nevada," the woman replied, her brow furrowing in concern."At least, that's where the return address was. Why do you ask?"
"Thankyou," Fiona cut in before the woman could press further. She exchanged aglance with Jake, her pulse quickening at the mention of Nevada.
As theystrode away from the staff members, Fiona's mind raced. Images of the deadbodies, each adorned with a crushed insect, haunted her thoughts. She couldalmost feel the weight of those tiny corpses pressing against her conscience, agrim reminder of her duty to solve this case.
"Jake,"she said, her voice barely a whisper. "The first murder happened inNevada. Bradley Caine could have been there when it occurred."
"Damn,"Jake muttered, his face hardening with resolve. "We need to find him. Hemight be the key to solving these murders. But first, we have to search thisbuilding high and low. If Bradley is the killer, then he could still be here.If he's not, then, well, somebody else is doing this, and he's still on theloose."
Fionanodded, her gaze locked on the dark shadows that stretched out before them. Thetruth was tantalizingly close, but she knew that every moment they wastedbrought the killer one step closer to striking again. She couldn't – wouldn't –let that happen.
Thefamiliar chill of fear crept up Fiona's spine, but she pushed it aside,focusing on the task at hand.
CHAPTER TWENTY THREE
A beadof sweat trickled down the side of his face as he stood amidst the terrifiedcrowd, their anxious murmurs echoing within the museum's cavernous hall. Hecould feel the weight of suspicion heavy in the air – they were all potentialwitnesses, every one of them. He clenched his fists inside his pockets, tryingto suppress the urge to flee.
