I took each step one at a time, moving painfully slow downstairs. I could hear the shuffling getting louder. The closer I got, I poked my head around the corner, but it was completely dark, and the only thing I spotted was light from some screen on the table. The wall between the entry and the dining room partially blocked my view.

I got to the last step and started my careful approach. My gun was still raised, and I refused to take my eyes off the person moving around the dining room.

They were small in stature from the silhouette I could see and wore some type of robe. It was hard to make out details in the dark.

“Raise your hands slowly,” I demanded.

The person jumped back from the table, startled, and quickly threw up their hands, ignoring my instructions.

“Turn around,” I breathed. My eyes widened as they adjusted to the dark and realized who stood in the middle of the dining room.

“Lenore? What are you doing here?” I demanded.

“I had to show you this,” she said a bit frantically.

She moved aside to show me the screen of her laptop she’d opened on the table. I lowered my gun still pointed at her, which did not seem to faze her in her frantic rambling. She started going on about a stalker and note, but none of her words made much sense, and she was speaking too fast for me to process.

Had I pushed her too far earlier, making her admit she was Jane Doe? Was this her final break?

“Len, slow down,” I instructed. “Start from the beginning. Are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” she said, quickly brushing me off. “Like I was trying to explain, I think I found footage of the Coastal Killer.”

“No one‘s ever found footage from any of the attacks. How could you possibly have some?” I asked.

Her words still didn’t make sense. The FBI thoroughly searched every surveillance option, checking all cameras within a certain radius of every attack site. There’s no way she could’ve obtained it from the local bar without some form of law enforcement to back her, so I doubted she’d already explored that option.

“New footage,” she said

“There hasn’t been an attack in years,” I muttered. I still felt like Lenore could be having a psychotic break, having to face past events. Most peoples’ minds found a way to protect them from hard truths, blurred reality.

“They came to my apartment,” she said, and I froze.

“What do you mean, they came back for you? Did they try to hurt you?“ A new panic washed over me as I realized the gravity of her words. I dragged her into this mess, put her straight in harm’s way.