“Yeah,” she said, her heart sinking.
“How about a fourth and a fifth?”
“What the hell? Where?” she asked.
He replied, “All within a couple blocks of here. And,” he added, “all of them on this same weekend. One a year for the last five years.”
She stared at him and went, “Shit.” Just then her phone rang. She looked down at a text from Simon for her to call him, her stomach dive-bombing at the timing. “Hey, what’s up?” she asked. “I’ve just arrived at a crime scene.”
“I know,” he said, “and all I’m seeing are bikes, bikes, bikes, and more bikes.”
“Yeah, how many of them?”
“Right now, I’d say five.”
She swore. “Great,” she said. “Apparently I’m at a crime scene in a small localized area, where there’s been a crime of the same kind every year for the last five years, all on this very weekend.”
There was dead silence on the other end, and then his weary voice said, “You’ll track this one down, I presume?”
“I won’t have a choice,” she said.
He whispered, “Neither will I.”
“Any more help you can give me?” she asked.
“No,” he murmured, “not yet. But it’ll come. Don’t worry. It’ll come.”
At that, she hung up, nodding, a grim expression on her face.