Serial

Chapter Six

Trigger warning: This part contains explicit descriptions of murder, rape and/or torture, which may be disturbing or triggering for some readers.

I pulled at the blinds and peered outside. Just to make sure nobody was out there watching me. Waiting. But I saw no flash of dark hair ducking out of sight or a grin punctuated with deep dimples peering at me from the bushes out front. All appeared normal, but then again, what did I know? This wasn't exactly my area of expertise. Searching for signs of danger, that is.

Apparently I had no concept of what that entailed.

I punched the last of the series of numbers into my phone and then continued to survey the courtyard as it began to ring. Just as I was about to hang up, there was a click on the line and then a few quick breaths before a voice finally said, "Agent Walker."

"Er, Agent Walker, this is Emmy. Emmy Bryant?" I said, thinking he must interview dozens of people every day for his job and therefore couldn't be expected to remember every single one of them. "You came by yesterday with your partner to talk to me about—"

"I remember," he said, cutting me off. His tone was light but professional.

"Right. Anyway, you said I could call if I needed anything? Well, I need something," I said. There was silence on his end. "I need more information."

"What kind of information do you need?" he asked me curiously.

"Look, something's happened and...well, I'd rather not do this over the phone," I said, trying to take control of the conversation again. "Can we meet?"

"Is everything okay?" he asked, his voice suddenly serious.

"Yeah. Well, not exactly. I have a serial killer courting me, after all," I said. "But it's not like I need you to call in the cavalry. You'll do just fine. So, can we meet?"

There was a pause on his end of the line. As I waited for him to respond, I looked down at the business card he'd given me. It was simple, basic. Just his name, division and phone number.

FEDERAL BUREAU OF INVESTIGATION

NATIONAL CENTER FOR THE ANALYSIS OF VIOLENT CRIME 

Special Agent Julian Walker

804-261-1044

"Yeah. When and where?" he asked. I could hear noise in the background, a subtle buzz of chatter. I wondered where he was. If he was at the office or out in the field.

"Well, I have to work the graveyard shift at the station, and then I have class tomorrow afternoon and work again after that..." I said, trying to figure out a time that I could actually meet with him.

"I'll meet you at the station," he said, making the decision for me.

"Are you sure?" I asked. "I know it's sort of late and all..."

"Yeah, no problem," he said easily. "I need gas anyway."

"Okay. Er, thanks," I said. "If you come by anytime after midnight, it should be pretty quiet. I'll have to duck out if any customers come, but for the most part we'll be alone. Do you need directions?"

There was a rustling of papers.

"Nope. Got it right here," he said. "I'll see you later."

How did he know where I work? What other details of my life did he have in his little file?