Page 23 of The Butterfly Killer

Marcus snorted. He chuckled under his breath. He looked down at the crumpled water cup. He slowly straightened it back out, not wanting to meet Blevins’s eyes as he spoke.

“My mom was the Butterfly Killer’s first victim. Or, well, one of his victims.” It was still strange to think she wasn’t the first.She wasn’t even special to him. She was just another tic on his bedpost.

Blevins looked taken aback. “You’re the son?”

Son. That was all he was. A relative on a sheet of paper. He was a fool to think anyone would care enough to know who he was. It wasn’t like he made a point to memorize the faces and names of the relatives to the other victims—because he did. He knew all of them and could cite them like the pledge of allegiance.

“That’s why I care about this so much.” His voice sounded cold and hollow.

He put the cup under the spout again. He chugged the water.

The door opened and Burns came out. “Food’s here. I’m going to get—everything alright?”

Burns looked between the two of them. Marcus bounced the water cup off the rim of the trashcan. It landed inside. “I’ll be back in a second. Need to use the restroom.”

Before anyone could say anything, he turned and fled the situation.

He was in and over his head. He didn’t know if he could do this. But he also couldn’t quit.

He slowly raised his head up from where he was staring into the sink. He met his eyes through the mirror. The LED lights blinked, flickering light over his tense shoulders.

The room felt like it was closing in on him.

He splashed water on his face. The coldness on the heat of his skin alleviated some of his discomfort, but it wasn’t going to last long.

He wiped his face and headed back to the room.

He could do this.

He had to.

Marcus jolted awake by his phone ringing. He blinked at the ceiling, the sun dancing through the window, creating shadows over the water stains. He laid there for a moment, listening to the ringtone repeat itself and then finally go quiet. It took him another minute to realize someone had been calling him.

Not just anyone. That was the ringtone he had save specifically for his sister.

He grappled for his phone still stuck in the pockets of his pants from the night before. He and the team had stayed late to search through the available documents. They had to call it quits in the early morning. Mercer said they would have someone more tech savvy search through the digital database to see if there were any murders leading up to the string of murders six years ago.

Marcus would have to be satisfied with that. For now, he would help the team when he had the free time and when their schedules lined up, but he was still very much just a police officer. Just because they let him play detective a couple hours didn’t mean he meant shit to anyone.

Or that he’d be any help with their investigation.

He dialed his sister back and held the phone to his ear. The dialing tone almost made him fall asleep again. Before that happened, she answered.

“Hey, Lily?—”

“What did I say, Marcus?”

He was taken aback by her tone. His brows furrowed in confusion as he sat up. He rubbed his eyes.

“What’s wrong? What are you talking about?”

“I specifically said I want to be left out of this! I don’t want to hear about mom’s death ever again.”

“Woah! Just wait a second. I didn’t mention anything about her to you.”

Lilianna snarled through the phone.“Then what the fuck is this shit you’re sending me? Emails about the recent murders? I got a damn magazine in the mail about the Butterfly Killer history! This isn’t funny.”

Marcus scrambled to the edge of the bed. He puked all over his work clothes.

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