Page 13 of The Butterfly Killer

Blevins crossed his arms over his chest. “Just stay off my case.”

Marcus didn’t break eye-contact with Blevins. He wasn’t going to be intimated by the jerk. However, he needed to keep some peace between the two of them. They did work in the same building and Blevins dad could probably wield some damage to Marcus’s already dead career.

Marcus bit his ego. “Consider it done. Now, may I please get to my desk.”

Blevins looked a little put out that Marcus wasn’t going to fight tooth and nail with him. He was probably power hungry to ruin someones life. Marcus hadn’t gotten this far for a rich brat to ruin it all for him. He’d deal with enough people like him in his life—he wasn’t going to fail because of them.

He ignored Blevins stare as he made his way to his embarrassing desk.

The only good thing he might get from his this morning was a new desk. Maybe.

4

Marcus chewedon his nails as he thought about what he was about to do. He eyed the door to the room the FBI agents were using at the end of the hall, waiting for Agent Mercer to come out. He’d been in there all morning and Marcus had missed him when he came back from his shift of patrolling. Now that he was holed up in the bull pen, getting paperwork done, he’d been watching the door like a hawk.

He thought about ignoring his gut about the recent murder being a copycat of the Butterfly Killer, but his conscious wouldn’t let him do it. He needed to at least mention it to Agent Mercer. At least he wouldn’t laugh in Marcus’s face.

Hopefully not.

He was zoned in on the door when a big gut cut off his line of sight.

“I hope you’re not busy?—”

Marcus moved his head to keep looking at the door. He saw it open and he jumped up from his folding chair. “Can’t talk right now.”

Larry called after him, but Marcus was too busy chasing after Agent Mercer who was walking with his partner, Agent Burns.

Marcus pushed aside all his embarrassment and yelled out to the agents.

“Agent Mercer!”

Mercer stopped and turned to see who was yelling his name. Marcus must have looked like an idiot as he sped walked around people who just had to get in his way.

“Sorry. Sorry.” He apologized repetitively before he made it to Mercer’s side.

“Can I help you officer?” Mercer said, giving Marcus too much grace with that title.

Burns looked confused as hell. “We really must be going. Is this important?”

Marcus nodded. “I’m really sorry to barge in like this, but I had a thought last night.”

“A thought,” Mercer echoed like there was something humorous about what Marcus said.

Marcus decided to ignore it. “I looked over the case files when you asked me to copy them?—”

Burns gaped. “You read through them?”

Mercer didn’t look surprised. “And what did you find?”

“The last Butterfly murder was hasty. He left DNA evidence all over the place—he was getting cocky. And he didn’t take his time. In fact, all the Butterfly murders were messy in some ways. Either leaving DNA evidence, blood on the floor, or leaving the murder weapon behind.

“But this recent murder—it’s clean. Spotless. He takes his time. He treasures her and the murder. He even made sure we found her in the most flattering circumstances.”

Burns shook his head. “She was found with flies eating her.”

Marcus felt a burst of energy bubbling inside of him. He was practically jumping on his toes. “I looked back over the initial report. Calloway’s friend said she was very sensitive to the cold so she wouldn’t set her AC lower than 75. But! The thermostathad been turned down to 40. He tried to preserve her body as best as he could, but he couldn’t foresee that Calloway’s AC would break in the middle of the night and there would be a heat wave.”

Burns thought about it for a second. “Okay…so he’s more connected to his victims now? What changed?”

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