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“Nothing yet.” Jake sighed. “You never realize how many people like strange creatures until you look, I guess.”
Fiona couldn’t help but laugh. She had always been the strange one, the “weird bug girl” at school and all throughout her life. But she loved insects, and she was happy she became an entomologist on top of a forensic analyst.
She was really starting to hope she could add FBI agent to her resume next.
But if she couldn’t even solve this case, then she figured she wouldn’t be as useful to the FBI as she’d hoped. This case had Fiona written all over it; the insect and arachnid angle was right up her alley, and yet she was stumped.
“Well, there has to be something we’re missing,” Jake said, confirming Fiona’s thoughts. “We have all the information we need. There’s just something we’re not seeing.”
“I know, I know,” she said. “But what?”
“I don’t know,” Jake said, and Fiona could see his chest rise and fall as he took a deep breath. They were sitting close, and she felt his jeans rub against her leg, making her heart beat faster. “But we’re missing something. I’m sure of it.” Jake glanced at her, looking at her for a moment too long. “Red, you’re an entomologist. What do you think is going on in this guy’s psyche? Why is he using insects to kill people?”
“One insect and one arachnid,” Fiona corrected. Then she thought about it, imagining what type of person would kill people in this way. She pictured a man with a warped perspective on life, who wanted to play God with the lives of others. Someone who was so obsessed with insects that he felt the need to use them as weapons, as if they were extensions of himself. Someone who thought their victims were nothing more than mere bugs, just like the ones he collected and admired so much. Or maybe it was someone who respected their power—the power of the Asian giant hornet and the Sydney funnel web spider. Each of them were deadly in their own ways.
Fiona shuddered at this thought, but she knew it made sense. It all fit together too perfectly. Whoever this killer was, he had an agenda that only he understood; some twisted game between him and his victims that no one else would ever comprehend. The only thing Fiona could do now was put in the hard work, keep searching for clues until something stuck out to her. She had a gut feeling about this case already, but she needed something more concrete if she wanted to prove it to Jake and the rest of the FBI crew.
“I guess I picture a man with a passion for the natural world, someone who views himself as an avatar of death, just like some insects and spiders. A man who feels entitled to decide who lives or dies…”
He had a reason for killing the people he did, Fiona thought, something that only made sense to him. He was intelligent, calculating and methodical, probably someone who had been wronged in some way or another and felt he needed to take revenge on society.
“Someone with a vendetta, perhaps,” Fiona offered. “But maybe not against those specific people. Maybe it’s something else entirely, or maybe he chose them at random.”
“Trish, I could see being random,” Jake said, “but Senator Barlow was too high-profile. That’s what puzzles me the most. I can’t draw any lines between these two victims.”
Fiona nodded. “All we have is what killed them. Insects and arachnids can be so powerful. They’re deadly, and they’re everywhere. Maybe that’s how our killer sees himself.” Fiona’s mind raced as she thought about it. She was guessing, but she didn’t want to give up hope. “And he probably has some sort of past with insects. Maybe he had an unhealthy fascination with them and that’s why he keeps using them as a weapon.”
“I see where you’re going,” Jake said. “These are good theories.”
Just then, Jake got a phone call. He took out his phone, and Fiona could tell by the look on his face that it might not be good.
He answered right away.
“This is Special Agent Tucker… yes… okay. I understand.”
Fiona felt her heart sink; they were already out of time, and the killer was still at large. She looked at Jake, whose expression had changed from hopeful to grim in an instant. He hung up the phone and looked at Fiona, his voice heavy with dread as he gave her the news:
“They’ve found another body.”
***
Fiona’s heart was in her throat. She stepped out of the elevator with Jake, in a building full of condos—where the latest victim had been found.
They looked to their left the moment they got out and saw the police officers and crime scene tape. As they got closer, Fiona noticed that the carpet beneath her shoes was squishy and wet—like it had been flooded.
And the closer she got to the apartment, the more water there was.
This building was also in a completely different end of town than either Trish or Senator Barlow, and the building’s quality fell somewhere in the middle; it was neither low-income nor reeking of wealth.
Jake held up his badge as he approached the officers stationed outside of the room. “Special Agent Jake Tucker of the FBI,” he said. “This is my partner, Fiona Red.”
Fiona nearly jolted. This was the first time she’d heard Jake call her his “partner.”
“What’s going on here?” he asked them.
The one officer, an older man, sighed. “Poor old woman found this guy about an hour ago, the place totally flooded, his bathtub running.”
“Is the body still in there?” Fiona asked, her pulse jumping.
