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Fiona and Jake exchanged a look before Jake spoke up. "We're not here to arrest you, Mr. Finch," he said, his voice calm. "We just need to gather as much information as possible."
David let out a breath and rubbed his forehead. "Alright, fine. You can check my receipts and talk to Jon. But I'm telling you, you're wasting your time. I didn't kill anyone."
With that, he stepped aside and gestured for them to come in. Fiona hesitated for a moment before following Jake into the dingy shack. The interior was dimly lit, the air thick with the smell of chemicals and dirt. There were piles of equipment and containers stacked haphazardly against the walls.
Fiona tried not to wrinkle her nose as she followed David to a small table in the corner of the room. He pulled out a file folder and handed it over to her. "Here are the receipts," he said. "And my neighbor's name and number are in there too."
Fiona took the folder and scanned the contents. Everything seemed to check out. David had purchased parts around one p.m. that day. She looked up to find David watching her expectantly. "Thank you," she said, handing the folder back. "We appreciate your cooperation."
David nodded, and for a moment, there was an awkward silence.
Finally, Jake spoke up. "Listen, Mr. Finch," he said, his voice filled with genuine gratitude. "We both just want to thank you for your help and cooperation during this investigation."
David nodded slowly. "You're welcome," he said, his voice softening slightly. He paused for a moment before continuing. "I'm glad I could be of service. Now if there's nothing else..."
He trailed off, but Fiona could see the unspoken question in his eyes: Are we done here?
Fiona smiled and nodded. "Yes, of course," she said. "Thank you again for all your help."
"It was no problem," David said. "I didn't hurt anybody, and if this helps you rule me out, then whatever. But next time, you better have a warrant."
He gestured towards the door as if to say 'after you.' Without any more hesitation, Fiona and Jake left the house. David closed the door behind them, leaving them in the evening air with the sound of crickets chirping around them. Fiona's gut clenched as she considered their options, the feeling of dread settling over her like a thick fog. They were running out of leads, and this man seemed to have an alibi for the day in question. She exchanged a glance with Jake, who looked equally frustrated.
As they walked back to the car, Fiona couldn't shake the nagging sense of unease that gnawed at her insides. They had hit yet another dead-end, and Glen's killer remained at large.
"Can we trust him?" Fiona asked.
"His alibi seems solid," Jake admitted, his jaw clenched tight. "But we should still check with the neighbor."
As they climbed back into the car, Fiona couldn't help but feel disheartened. They had hoped that this lead would bring them closer to solving Glen Hartwell's murder, but instead, it had only led them to a dead-end. With a sigh, she glanced over at Jake, whose expression mirrored her own disappointment.
The car engine roared to life, drowning out the sound of their frustrations as they pulled away from the exterminator's house. Despite their best efforts, the truth remained elusive, slipping through their fingers like sand. But Fiona knew that somewhere, hidden in the shadows, the answers lay waiting. And she wouldn't rest until she had uncovered them all.
CHAPTER TEN
He leaned against the railing of his rickety balcony, observing the world below. His home, an apartment above an old garage, served as his sanctuary. It was here that he stowed his truck, hidden beneath a tarp – a vehicle that had helped him through so many exterminations. The night was still and silent, only broken occasionally by the distant hum of a passing car, but he'd always liked this end of town. Nice and quiet.
"Perfect," he whispered, his breath misting in the cool nighttime air.
Inside the apartment, insects crawled freely over the worn furniture, traversing the faded wallpaper like explorers charting new territory. They climbed and scuttled over the old furniture, their spindly legs flowing slickly along the wall. Ants, spiders, centipedes--he had them all.
He watched them, fascinated by their existence, and felt no urge to disturb them. As they scurried about, he pondered the poison he kept locked away in his cabinet - a lethal concoction reserved for those he deemed unworthy of life.
"Let them be," he mused, speaking more to himself than to the bugs. "They have their purpose, just as I have mine."
He turned back towards the dimly lit room, stepping carefully over the piles of newspaper that littered the floor. Each headline seemed to scream at him, detailing his latest exploits and taunting the authorities, who were always one step behind. The sensation of being hunted yet never caught filled him with a twisted sense of pride.
"Ah, my dear poison," he murmured, unlocking the cabinet and carefully withdrawing a small vial. He held it up to the light, admiring its deadly contents. "You've never let me down."
A cockroach skittered across his hand, making its way toward the vial. The killer's eyes narrowed as he observed the insect, momentarily lost in thought.
"Perhaps you understand me better than anyone else," he said softly, allowing the creature to continue on its journey. "We both know what it means to eliminate the unwanted, the unneeded."
He replaced the vial in its secure resting place and locked the cabinet once more. The time was growing near – the moment when he would claim another life.
Let them scuttle about; let them feast,he thought, unable to suppress a smile.Soon enough, they will have another meal.
He had been watching his next victim for days, a man so infested with greed and deceit that he practically reeked of it. A murderer, this man was. Someone who disrupted the natural flow of the world, who thought of himself as above the insects he sought to exterminate. He would be the perfect target – a disgusting parasite feeding off the innocent, just like the insects that inhabited his own home. Tonight was the night, he decided. The infestation would be purged.
