Page 29 of Cat and Mouse

"Mike," I say, nodding for him to join me.

He walks over, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. "What do you think?" he asks, keeping his voice low.

"It's him. The Phantom," I reply, not bothering to sugarcoat it. "Same signature, same MO. But why this guy? Why a fucking accountant?"

Mike shrugs, glancing at the body. "Maybe he's just a random target. Or maybe there's something we're not seeing."

"Maybe," I say, but I don't believe it. There's always a reason. I just need to figure out what it is.

We stand there in silence for a moment, both of us staring at the mess the Phantom left behind. It's like he's taunting us, daring us to catch him. And the worst part is, I think he's enjoying it.

"I've been thinking," I start, choosing my words carefully. "About the Phantom. I know for sure he's Italian"

Mike's expression doesn't change, but I can see the gears turning in his head. "Why?"

"He paid me a visit and told me his first name was Leonardo, but seeing as he's a psychopath, I don't believe him."

"He did what?" Mike asks.

"Keep it down. I know it's a stretch, but... there's something about him. He's got the connections, the resources. And every time we get close to the Phantom, we're still lagging behind somehow. It's too much of a coincidence."

Mike nods slowly, like he's considering it. "You think someone is funding him?"

"I don't know," I admit. "But my gut's telling me there's more to him than meets the eye. He's smart, careful. The Phantom is covering his tracks damn well."

Mike's quiet for a moment, then he sighs. "I don't know, Kane. What do you suggest?"

"I'm beginning to think maybe Leo has something against the NYPD. Maybe that is what we're missing."

"Or the mayor?" Mike adds.

"Could be. Looking into him without solid proof... it's risky."

"You're sure about this?"

"No," I say, frustration creeping into my voice. "I'm not sure about anything right now. But I can't shake the feeling that a bigger fish is involved. Someone is playing puppet master."

Mike gives me a long look, then finally nods. "Alright. Let's keep digging. But be careful, Elizabeth. We're dealing with someone who's dangerous as hell."

"Yeah," I mutter, my mind already racing ahead to the next steps. "I know." I glance over at Jeremy, who's packing up his kit. "Jeremy, did you check for any other identifying marks? Tattoos, scars, anything that might give us a clue?"

"Nothing out of the ordinary," he replies, still focused on the body. "But I'll do another sweep before we move him."

"Good."

We wrap up at the scene, and I watch as they load Robert Marshall's body into the coroner's van. The wife and kids are still outside, being consoled by neighbors and family, their lives shattered in a way they'll never fully recover from. And all because of this sick game the Phantom's playing.

As I head back to my car, I can't stop thinking about the note. The numbers flash in my mind, taunting me with their meaning. What the hell is the Phantom trying to say? Why kill a random accountant and leave a note that makes no sense?

I sit in the driver's seat, staring at the slip of paper again. 4739 2184 1093. It's a puzzle, but I'm missing the key. And until I figure it out, the Phantom's one step ahead of me.

But I'm not giving up. I can't. This is personal now, more than it's ever been. And I don't care who is involved. I'll take them down. I don't care how powerful he is or how deep his connections run. He's not untouchable.

I grip the steering wheel, the leather creaking under my hands. This isn't over. Not by a long shot.

I'll find the Phantom. I'll decode his message.

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