Chapter 26
Damien
Play - Lights Are On by Tom Rosenthal
Subconscious mind
The gravel crunches beneath the wheels of the car as I pull up to the old cottage I rented away from school grounds and park next to the flower bed.
I never pay close attention to the flowers.
They made no difference to me growing up even though my mother used to love putting fresh ones on the table in the mornings before breakfast.
Still, the flowers are quite beautiful.
The early morning air cuts through me as I make my way to the house. So many thoughts plague my mind. My student, the case, the serial killer. Everything.
The lock sticks when I push the key in, and dust greets me the moment the door opens. I drop my bag by the stairs and stand there, exhaling a long breath, exhausted from this first week.
Fuck.
A beer waits in the fridge, courtesy of the elderly couple who owns the place. They always make sure there’s something here when they stop by.
The office looks exactly as it did the last time I was here. The oak desk sits beneath the bay window, overlooking the flower beds that have grown wild outside.
My mind casts itself back to the night I found Miss Vitelli on a rooftop for the first time. Cold, and lonely.
And today again, she was there, wet hair and damp cheeks, bloodshot eyes. She looked like she had been crying. I had to fight against the urge to go up there and bring her down.
I should've stayed with her, made sure she was alright. I mean, she said she was, but I know more than most, that is just an excuse you use when you want to brush someone off.
I should've stayed with her.
Why didn't I stay?
She’s my student, I should’ve made sure that her safety was not compromised.
My files are scattered everywhere, and I notice that a large envelope sits underneath. Picking up the envelope, recognizing the penmanship.
Kyle.
I forgot I told the team to send over anything they found on the case. The letter opener sits in the top drawer. I slide it beneath the seal and tear it open. Photographs spill onto the desk. Victims, close ups of the markings around their necks, and the notes carved on their thighs.
A note is attached to the top picture.
You were right, boss, the chain marks do indeed match. This is the first victim.
-K
I take in Kyle’s message, allowing the hollow and terror feeling to settle.
Dead or alive, the killer is here.