Inspired by even the thought of having something to check out, Kate sat back down again at her desk and immediately searched for murder cases involving ice bullets.
Meanwhile Colby walked over and studied the boards. “I see you got the bullying kids up here.”
“Yep.” She spoke to him, not even turning to face him. “As long as I’ve got the kids up there, I won’t forget about them.”
“You’ve got a long-ass memory. I can’t imagine you forgetting about anything.”
“You’d be surprised. I try not to, but, once in a while, I mess up.”
With that, he turned and walked out.
When she came up with two cases, one was caused by dry ice, she turned to the other one. She whistled. “Look at that. Owen, you’re right on target.”
“What did you find?” he asked.
“About ten years ago, a kid on campus was killed. They were all making ice pellets and using BB guns. This one ended up shooting himself in the head and dying.”
“He shot himself? That’s in the report?” Rodney asked Kate.
“According to the eyewitnesses, yes.”
“I wonder if those eyewitnesses would change their story now.” Rodney looked over at her.
Her eyebrows shot up. “It is at the university again.”
“Which brings it back to a connection that we can’t ignore. And that’s not our jurisdiction.”
She tapped her fingers on the keyboard aimlessly, as she thought about it. “It was a long time ago though, ten years. So, why now?” She turned to face her team. “If we’re working on a revenge theory, why so long afterward?”
“Maybe our fictional killer was a younger brother, or maybe it was a family member who didn’t live here, or maybe it has absolutely no connection,” Lilliana said, trying to bring their musings back to ground zero.
Kate looked over at her. “A serial killer is motivated by something known though—at least to him. And we need to find that motivation.Andwe have five annual deaths, which is suspicious, and, if murders, done by the same person, is the definition of a serial killer.”
“Maybe,” Lilliana said, “and we’ll follow the leads, but let’s make sure we stick to the line of truth and not fiction.”
“But fiction is so much more normal,” Kate said. “All this reality, it’s way worse than fiction. Nobody can make this shit up.”
And, with that, she turned around and did some more research.
*
If Simon thoughtthe damn enhanced sense of smell was bad, the noise in the back of his ears was driving him nuts. He had cut his usual day short and, once home, started right away on a heavy weights workout in his spare bedroom, burning his muscles, until he was in a hard-core sweat in an effort to ignore the white noise in his ears. But it seemed like the more he tried to ignore the background noise, the more he focused on it. And the more he focused on it, the louder it got.
Finally he cried out, “Stop! For crying out loud, stop. Stop.”
When a knock came on the door, he groaned and looked through the tiny window to see it was the doorman. “Harry, what’s the matter?” he asked, as he opened the penthouse elevator door.
Harry gave him a smile. “Parcel came for you.” He handed it over.
“You could have called me. I would have come down.”
“I considered it, but I saw you come up, so I was afraid that you might not be feeling so well.”
“I’ve got this damn ringing in my ears. It’s pissing me off.”
“Oh, my dad had tinnitus. It was really, really a terrible thing. It drove him crazy.”
“Yeah, that’s what it feels like, but it just started today, so I don’t know what it could be. But it’s got me spun out very quickly.” He stood here in his sweatshirt and track pants, heaving, as he accepted the parcel from him. “I didn’t order anything.”