Page 22 of The Butterfly Killer

Marcus forced himself to straighten in his seat. He wasn’t going to be ignored when he was right there in the room—he was done being steamrolled.

“The recent murder was a single mother, right?”

Thompson turned his attention to Marcus though it seemed like he didn’t want to. “Yes.”

“Single mothers are the Butterfly Killer’s ideal victim. I would bet my money that the killings are going to copy that of the murders we know of today to be by the Butterfly Killer.” He paused as he caught his breath. He hid his shaking hands under the table. “This copycat is more thoughtful. The discovery of the body—the presentation—is more important. All of the crime scenes were cleaned. No DNA, no blood, and the homes are organized afterward. The Butterfly Killer was the complete opposite.”

Thompson looked down at his files. He had a pensive look on his face.

“The escalation of the murders would be important too,” Thompson said.

Blevins made a noise at the back of his throat with a roll of his eyes. “If he’s so hung up on presentation then why hasn’t he taken pictures or videos? Wouldn’t he have plastered the kills all over the internet if he was so obsessed with his freakish art?”

“We have searched the internet in case,” Burns said. He turned to write “presentation” in capital letters. He wrote “media” right beside it. “He might be gearing up for something larger.”

A pin dropped as Marcus stared at the board.

“He’s been practicing.”

All eyes turned to him.

His mouth had gone dry.

“He’s not copying the Butterfly murders because he had some impulse to do it or he’s trying to replicate the Butterfly Killer’s success. He’s…”

He stood up. He walked to the board and picked up one of the markers. Everyone watched him as he wrote “rival”.

“He’s copying all the murders to show that he can do it better. Thathe’sbetter.”

“He doesn’t idolize the Butterfly Killer,” Mercer calmly said, echoing Marcus’s thoughts. “He hates him.”

Marcus felt weak in the legs. This killer was going to be worse than the Butterfly Killer. And the psycho was going to prove it.

Marcus needed a drink after that. He went to the water station outside in the hallway. Burns said the food would be there in ten minutes, but he didn’t think he’d be able to eat. It was getting late. He should be gearing up for bed, but he didn’t think he’d be able to sleep either. It was a good thing it was the weekend. He’d be able to sleep the whole day.

He might even ask Mercer if he could come in with them on Sunday. He knew they’d be working all-day-all-week. He needed something to keep his mind busy and to not think too deeply about what this might mean if they didn’t catch this new killer either.

He gulped down two little cups of water. It was cold going down his throat. He felt it all the way down his spine. He gasped as he stopped chugging it. His eyes closed as he tilted his head back.

“I don’t know what you did?—”

Marcus jumped, the plastic cup crushing in his closing fist as Blevins moved close to him.

“—but this isn’t going to get you anywhere.”

His heart raced. He thought back to when Blevins cornered him in the printer room. His eyes scanned the almost empty halls. The lights were turned down. It was eerie and the only life in the building was coming from the detective room.

He took a shaky breath. “I’m not doing this to get a promotion.”

It would be nice if he could get the advantage, but he wasn’t in this just to make money.

Blevins looked doubtful. “Then what are you after?”

Marcus furrowed his brows. “Do you not know who I am?”

Blevins folded his arms. The hostility was still there, but it was waning as he tried to decipher what Marcus’s words meant. He seemed to think every word out of Marcus’s mouth was chosen to confuse the fuck out of him.

“Who you are? Should I?”

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