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With shaking hands, she dialed Jake's number.
"Jake, I found something," she breathed out.
"Red--there's been an accident, and I'm stuck behind it," came his harried reply. "What did you find?"
"Records, names, addresses—it could be everything we need to find his next victim before he kills again." Fiona's voice hitched in her throat as the gravity of their situation settled upon her. "But which one, Jake? We've got to figure this out."
"Alright, read them off to me," Jake said. The sound of sirens wailed in the background, punctuating the urgency of their task.
Panicking, Fiona said, "Um... Helene Smith... it says she called him a month ago... he went and moved a nest for her."
"He never actually does the jobs for the victims, right?" Jake said. "We're probably looking for people who he just gave quotes to."
"Right," Fiona said.
"Okay, here's another one – James Evans. He called for a quote on termite control about two weeks ago. And then there's Emily Nguyen, she called in for a quote on spider removal just last week... and John Hopper, which he did a quote for... today?"
Fiona's heart sank.
"For a wasp nest removal," she said. Two of the victims had called about nests.
They had three names, each accompanied by an address etched in the killer's hand.
"Red, I need you to wait for me," Jake insisted, his voice tense with worry. "I'll call for backup as soon as I'm out of this mess."
But Fiona's eyes were drawn to one address, just a few blocks away from where she stood. The darkness creeping in around her only heightened the sense of urgency gnawing at her gut.
"Jake, I can't just sit here. One of the addresses is close by—I can go alone," she said, determination steeling her voice. "John Hopper. He's only a few minutes away."
"Damn it, Red…" Jake sighed, "It's too dangerous. At least wait for the cops."
"Call them in now," Fiona said, already turning toward the exit. "I have to go there, Jake. What if he's there right now? He's not here!"
"Fine, but just--just don't do anything reckless, okay?"
Fiona hung up and took a deep breath, her fingers still trembling. She couldn't believe they were so close to catching him. But their victory would be short-lived if they didn't move fast.
She bolted out of the garage, feeling a sense of urgency prickling at her skin. She had to get to John Hopper's house before Harrison did.
***
The sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows that stretched across the quiet suburban street. Fiona parked her car outside John Hopkins' house, her hands gripping the steering wheel tightly as the weight of responsibility settled on her shoulders. She had to be right about this.
"Come on, Red," she whispered to herself, taking a deep breath before stepping out into the fading light. Her shoes crunched on the gravel driveway, echoing through the still evening air.
She approached the front door, heart racing, and knocked firmly. It creaked open, revealing a middle-aged man with salt-and-pepper hair and tired eyes. For a moment, doubt crept into Fiona's mind—had she made a mistake?
"Hi there," she began, flashing her FBI lanyard. "I'm Fiona Red, a forensic analyst with the FBI. I'm investigating a case involving pest control services, and your address came up. I understand you received a quote from Bug Hero today?"
"Uh, yeah, earlier," John said. "Really weird guy, to be honest. Refused to do the work for me, so I've had to call some other places for quotes."
"Is the nest still out back?" Fiona asked, trying to keep her voice steady.
"Sure is, no thanks to that guy," John said.
"If you could please show me it, that would be helpful," Fiona said. She wanted to see it for herself, to determine the position of it and see if Harrison might have viewed John as a possible victim. Just because he wasn't here now didn't mean he wasn't going to come.
John led her around the side of the house to the backyard, where the back porchlight ticked on.
