The local sheriff’s office was where I’d go next after compiling Lenore’s document, once I perfected my ruse. A single FBI agent in Briarport, wrapping up some unfinished documentation for a cold case. It wasn’t perfect, but with refining, it would do.

My chest tightened at the thought of a less than perfect plan. Mistakes caused casualties; I needed to be nothing short of impeccable.

I walked into the dining room where I’d assembled my working evidence board and brought my coffee with me. The sticky notes and a stray pen sat on the table from my last batch of notes I hung. I found the picture I’d printed of the High Tide Pub and grabbed the sticky notes.

Hunting ground. 

I scribbled down the two words and hung it directly beneath the photo. That would be another stop along my venture through town.

I added numbers beneath the names of the twelve total victims, including the final one, Jane Doe. I made sure each victim was placed in order; every small detail could matter in the end. The first victim to a crime always told me a lot, and the way the victims progressed helped fill in gaps.

My eyes felt heavy to where I had trouble reading the small print on some of the documents on the wall. I moved to the other side of the table behind me and pulled out a chair.

My hand rubbed my forehead, a distant headache forming. The caffeine from the coffee wasn’t kicking in fast enough.

I leaned my elbows on the table, my head falling into my hands. My eyes hung heavy, and I tried to keep them open, but each blink got slower and slower.

I knew the signs.

Riddled with anxiety over Lenore coming by and my cognitive functionality barely intact, sleep deprivation crept in before I even realized.

I blinked again, forcing my eyes back open.

My eyes closed shut slowly once more, but this time, they didn’t open again.

* * *

BANG.BANG.BANG.

The rapping of a fist against the front door jolted me awake. I picked my head up off the table, seeing the wall of leads I’d carefully hung, and then turned toward the entry.

Another round of pounding came, and I stood quickly.

The door was only a few paces away, and my hand hesitated over the doorknob. I pulled it open before I could come to my senses and stop myself.

Lenore stood outside in her blue sundress, clutching her laptop. Her gaze met mine, and I watched her avert her eyes. I froze, unsure what to say first.

“Are you going to let me in?” she muttered as she pushed by me.

I suppose I have to now. 

“The dining room,” I said and pointed toward the left, but she ignored me and found it anyway. She placed her laptop on the table and turned to me, placing her hands on her hips.