I can’t say much, but I think this killer may strike again. It’s no more than a hunch based on a tiny piece of evidence, but my gut tells me he’s just getting started.
I know what you’re thinking: I sound too excited about that. Henri said the same thing. He got all red-faced as he does when he scolds me. “People are going to die, Luc! Do you care about that?” Okay, sure. But hey, I’m not the one killing them. Why yell at me? I’m just saying—if it’s going to happen, better I'm the guy on the case. I’ll catch the killer faster than anyone, which means fewer victims. And that’s good, right? Right? Come on, you have to be a little happy for me.
I'm dedicating this case to Bruno. The last time Paris had a
serial killer was in the ‘80s—in Montmartre, which was Bruno’s turf. Sadly,
he’d just retired and missed out on the action. He did some investigating on his own, tried
to share his insights, but they dismissed him. It broke his heart. “My time is over,” he said.
“But you, kid—your day will come.”
Bruno was right. The "kid" finally has his day.
