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The bucket strained his muscles as he lifted it, but despite the slight shaking in his arms, he poured the liquid into the trench, walking back toward the house with purposeful steps. He made sure all the blood disappeared into the dirt. Not a single drop would be wasted.
When the last of the blood left the bucket, he set the container down and watched as the earth drank up his sacrifice. He already felt lighter. Stronger. Freer.
Was there anything he couldn’t do?
Twelve
Cassie couldn’t sleep that night, compounding the effect the early morning had on her brain. She wasn’t sure if it had anything to do with the little boy’s absence, Elizabeth’s presence, or Detective Harris’s disappointment.
Or maybe it was a combination of all three.
She dragged herself out of bed. Her limbs felt like they each carried an extra ten pounds. On the upside, Elizabeth hadn’t shown up this morning and though Cassie wasn’t ruling it out, she was hedging her bets and trying to stay hopeful. She made extra-strength coffee, packed a lunch, and headed to the museum.
It was the little victories.
But by the time she made it to the breakroom for lunch, half the staff was crowded around the small TV in the corner.
Cassie found a spot between Magdalena and Jason. “What’s going on?” she whispered.
Magdalena shook her head. Jason leaned down.
“Isn’t that the detective that came here the other day?”
Cassie shifted to one side so she could see the screen better. The camera zoomed in on Harris, who stood outside the precinct surrounded by reporters. She didn’t look uncomfortable, but Cassie knew enough about the woman to realize she’d rather be solving the case than talking to the press.
Harris held up her hands and the camera zoomed in further. “As I’ve said previously, I cannot share any sensitive details about any ongoing cases. This is to protect the investigation, and the friends and families of anyone involved in a serious crime.”
“Like the murder of three young women?”
The camera panned over to a young blonde woman whose curls bounced when she talked. She was tall and imposing and Cassie had a feeling she wasn’t the least bit afraid of Harris’s demeanor. The reporter was holding her microphone out to the detective, waiting for an answer.
“Like I said,” Harris repeated, looking the woman dead in the eyes. “I cannot comment—”
The reporter didn’t let her finish. “Is it true all three women have the exact same wounds?”
Harris’s eyes widened for a fraction of a second. It wasn’t enough for most people to notice, but the reporter narrowed in on it like a hawk. She smiled like she had won a secret competition between her and the detective. She knew she had hit close to home.
“I cannot comment on the nature of our investigations. As soon as I can share any details about any of my current cases, I will be sure to inform all of you.”
The rest of the press surged forward, yelling over each other to be heard. One voice was louder than the others, and it belonged to a short man with graying hair. He wasn’t as pushy as the others, but it was clear he knew how to make himself heard.
“Does this mean we have a serial killer on our hands?”
The group of reporters fell silent. They didn’t want to miss the detective’s answer.
“Like I said—”
“With all due respect, Detective,” the man said, “people are scared. Is there anything you can tell us?”
Detective Harris sighed and looked around the crowd. For a split second, she looked into the camera, and to Cassie, it felt like Harris was speaking directly to her.
“I know everyone is scared, but please know that we’re doing the best we can. I can’t share any information with you because I don’t want to corrupt the investigation. I’m not trying to keep secrets from you. I’m trying to preserve the integrity of the investigation.”
When the voices started to shout again, she held up her hand. Cassie was impressed with the way she could command a crowd.
“My suggestion is to stay safe and vigilant, as you have always done. Don’t meet up with strangers alone, and don’t do anything that your gut tells you is too dangerous.”
The blonde reporter’s voice rose above the rest. “So, you’re telling the women of Savannah that they should be afraid for their safety?”
