Page 11 of Cat and Mouse

By dawn, we have a plan. It's not perfect, but it's a start. We pack up our things, ready to hit the ground running. As I walk out of the station, I can still smell his scent, feel his touch. But I push it all away, focusing on what's ahead.

This isn't over. Not by a long shot. And when we finally meet again, I'll be ready.

I head home, shower, and collapse in bed with files of all six victims. Amy Carson is the latest one. She led me to the club, and her tox results show she had traces of drugs in her system. Maybe this isn't just a serial killer targeting random victims. Maybe this is all tied up with drugs. I'll need to check on the reports. Maybe there's something I missed.

The Phantom has killed two people this year, three last year, and one the year before. Same M.O.—nine slashes to the chest. None of the cases seem connected, but using a UC might be our next best option. I stare at the deceased's files until I doze off, dreaming of very blue, intense eyes.

*

I wake up with a start, the files scattered around me. Groaning, I push myself up and grab a cold coffee from mynightstand. The faces of the victims stare back at me: Amy Carson, found in an alley; Jessica Davis, found in a park; Mark Thompson, found in a different alley; Lisa Moore, found in her apartment; Ryan Bell, found in a dumpster; and Samantha Green, found in an abandoned building. All of them in different places, with different backgrounds.

But Amy's tox results might be the key. Drugs. Could it be connected? I need more information.

I glance at the clock. It's 8 a.m. No point in going back to sleep. I shuffle the files, trying to make sense of it all.

Amy's case file sits on top, open to her photo. Her smile feels like a plea for justice. My mind keeps drifting back to last night. That man, his touch, his eyes.

Damn it, Elizabeth, focus.

He's the enemy. Nothing more.

I head to the kitchen and make a pot of coffee. I need to be sharp today. We need a break in this case. The coffee brews, filling the kitchen with its bitter aroma. I take a deep breath, letting it ground me.

This isn't about him. This is about getting justice for the victims.

Mike texts me updates on the club investigation. No leads yet, but he's hopeful. Matteo's checking surveillance footage. Maybe we'll catch a break today.

I pour over the tox reports, comparing substances. There's something here, a thread I can't quite grasp. I need fresh eyes, a new perspective.

The phone rings, startling me. It's Captain Harris.

"Kane, any progress?"

I give him a rundown of where we stand, careful not to show my frustration. "We're working on it, sir. It's just... elusive."

"I trust you'll crack this, Kane. Keep me posted."

I hang up, feeling the pressure mount. This case is personal now. Those victims deserve justice, and I won't rest until we find it.

Hours pass. I've made some headway—potential links, theories to explore—but nothing solid.

I stretch, my back protesting from hours hunched over paperwork. A glance at the clock tells me it's late afternoon. Mike and Matteo should be back soon with their findings.

My phone buzzes again. It's Mike.

"Kane, you need to see this."

I rush to meet them at the station. Matteo has pulled up security footage from the club. We huddle around the screen, watching patrons come and go. There—a glimpse of Amy, laughing with friends. Moments later, she disappears into the crowd.

"Who's that?" Mike points to a figure lingering in the background, watching Amy closely.

Matteo zooms in. "Enhance."

The figure comes into focus—a man in a dark suit, his face partially obscured. But there's something about him, an aura of confidence and danger.

"That's him," I whisper, feeling a chill down my spine. "The Phantom."

"We need to find out who he is," Mike says, jaw clenched.

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