Page 40 of Let Her Run

"Chief? What's going on?" she asked, trying to keep her voice steady.

"Red, I hope your investigation is going well," he said.

Fiona's heart sank. She wished she had better news for him. "Not as good as I would like, Chief, but we are trying."

"Good, good," he said. "Look, I won't take up too much of your time. Marissa's been asking for you again," he said, his tone serious. "She's still not talking much, but she seems to want to see you specifically."

Fiona clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms. The remainder of Marissa's knowledge about her sister's kidnapper sent a shiver down her spine. She knew there was a chance she could get Marissa to talk, but right now, she couldn't afford to split her focus. Even if everything in her did want to run down to HQ and demand Marissa give her answers.

"Thank you for letting me know, Chief," she said, swallowing her emotions. "I'll visit her as soon as I can, but for now, I need to concentrate on this case."

"Understood," he replied gruffly. "Best of luck to you and Agent Tucker," he said, and the line went dead.

Fiona stared at the phone in her hand, a storm of feelings brewing within her. She wanted nothing more than to confront Marissa, to make her reveal what she knew about her sister's whereabouts. But she also couldn't forget her duty to the three victims who had been killed.

She sat down at the table, forcing herself to refocus on the task at hand. They had no viable suspects, and their leads had only led them further into darkness. If they were going to solve this case, she needed to think outside the box – to find a connection that nobody else had spotted. Maybe they had been looking at this the wrong way, somehow. Fiona wasn't sure how to go about it yet, but she had to try. She took out her laptop and opened up the files, ready to review what they had so far.

Fiona's fingers tapped a restless rhythm on the scratched wooden surface of the motel table. Her gaze darted between the case files spread out before her, searching for any overlooked detail that could lead them to the killer. She decided to start from the beginning, focusing on what they knew so far.

Three victims, two men, and one woman. All homeowners who had called Insect Away Home for pest control services. She chewed on her lower lip as she studied their pictures, trying to piece together the puzzle that connected these seemingly random people.

"Think outside the box," she muttered to herself, staring at the notes they'd taken during their interviews with friends and family of the victims. What was the common thread that bound them together? And why had they been targeted in such a brutal and bizarre fashion?

She thought back to Sharon's house, to that wasp's nest she'd seen.

Then there were the ants in Roger's house...

Fiona's eyes widened as an epiphany struck her like lightning. They knew that each victim had called pest control, but they hadn't looked into whatkindof service they wanted done.

She reached for her phone, her heart pounding with anticipation as she dialed Mr. Anderson's number. So far, it had mostly been Jake contacting him, but Fiona needed to follow this thread, even if it led nowhere.

"Hello, Mr. Anderson?" Fiona asked, trying to keep her voice steady. "This is Fiona Red--"

"I know who you are," Anderson cut in. "Haven't we given you two enough?"

"I'm sorry, but I have another question, and I would really appreciate your cooperation."

Anderson let out a sigh on the other end. "Okay... fine. Only because it's your calling and not your abrasive partner. What can I do for you?"

"I had a quick question about the services your clients requested. Can you tell me what Glen, Sharon, and Roger were looking to have done?"

"Let me see here..." There was silence as Anderson looked up the information. Fiona held her breath, then: "Glen and Sharon both called about having wasp nests removed from their properties."

"And what about Roger?" Fiona pressed, gripping her pen tightly as she scribbled down the information.

"Roger contacted us regarding an ant infestation," Anderson answered. "He wanted them exterminated as soon as possible. I don't know why he cancelled. Maybe he went with someone cheaper. We're not known for having the lowest prices, although we do have high success rates."

"Thank you, Mr. Anderson," Fiona said, her mind racing with the newfound information. "I appreciate your cooperation."

As she hung up the phone, Fiona stared at the notes she had just jotted down, her brow furrowed in concentration. She couldn't quite put her finger on it, but something about this new piece of information felt significant. The victims' requests for pest control services were different, yet somehow, they must be linked.

"Come on, think," she whispered to herself, feeling the weight of the victims' lives bearing down on her.

Fiona's fingers drummed on the tabletop, her eyes darting back and forth between the notes she had taken earlier in the day and the new information from Mr. Anderson. A gnawing sensation began to build in her gut as she tried to piece together the puzzle laid out before her. The tension in the room was palpable, the air heavy with the pressure of unsolved murders.

"Alright, think," Fiona muttered under her breath. "What connects these victims besides Insect Away Home?" She ran a frustrated hand through her hair, yanking at the roots as if it would help extract the answer from her mind.

Her gaze fell upon the words scrawled in messy script: wasp nests, ants. Suddenly, an idea began to form in the recesses of her brain, like a spark flickering to life in the darkness. She leaned back in her chair, her thoughts racing as the possibility took shape.

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