4 a.m. The killer made another point, with another victim. This time, in front of the treasury building. It takes nerves of steel to leave a body in plain sight in a public place, albeit in the middle of the night. So far, he's outplaying me and I don't like it.
This one got to me. I don't know why. When I saw the victim—female—I came unglued. I can't explain it; I've seen female victims before. I don't know what happened to me. But when I held her tiny hand to examine it, I felt a wall tumbling down on me. My chest tightened. I couldn't breathe.
Of course, wouldn't you know, the one person who saw it happen was Franck Poliveau. Of all people—him. When the wall hit me, I stood up and spun around, and careened right into him. We locked eyes for an instant. He saw inside me. He saw too much. Now he looks at me funny.
Anyway, I was right about this being the case of my career. Looks like we have a serial killer.
