the one who got away

III

Beatrice watched Connor across the table, her arms crossed over her chest. He had dozed off with his hands cupped over his cheeks. His eyes were closed, and he was beginning to drool from his mouth. It was a little past midnight and the three had been working nearly non-stop for the past two days; the only reason Beatrice was still awake was because she was starting on her third Redbull.

The door to the room swung open and Andrew walked inside, carrying a coffee in both of his hands. Beatrice quickly kicked her leg at Connor from underneath the table to wake him up before Andrew noticed. Connor's eyes shot open, and his body straightened as he attempted to process that he had even fallen asleep.

"Brought you a coffee, Peterson." Andrew slid one of the coffees across the table that stopped in front of Connor. "Figured you would be snoring at one point."

Connor's cheeks flushed red from embarrassment but took the coffee anyways. He quickly wiped the drool from his chin and blinked the sleep from his eyes. "Thank you... sir."

Andrew sat in the chair beside Connor and inhaled a sigh. "I'm sick of being one step behind this son of a bitch, we need a lead before this guy kills someone else."

"We've spent the past two days diving into these men's lives and interviewing their family," Beatrice twirled her hair around her finger as she spoke. "Our victims have nothing in common. They were all chosen at random. There's not a defined victimology."

"Well, not exactly." Connor pushed his glasses up his nose. "They're all men. All in their early thirties which means our killer is around the similar age range. Although they were chosen at random, there's still a common denominator."

"So, you're telling me that every man in this city in their thirties is a potential victim?" Beatrice questioned, taking a drink of her Redbull.

"That's not what I'm implying." Connor shot back. "We just need to narrow down our victimology. Hand me that folder."

Andrew slid the manilla folder that was sitting beside him to Connor. Inside the folder was nearly every detail for the case, that included crime scene photos, notes from the interviews, and autopsy papers.

"All of these men were intoxicated at the time of their murder. Not just a little tipsy, I mean completely wasted." Connor flipped through the papers inside the folder as he spoke. "These victims seemed to be alcoholics and spend their time at bars. That could be the place this killer narrows down the men at: a bar."

Beatrice nodded along and Andrew was taking notes once again. "So what? This killer wants to kill alcoholics? We need more, Peterson." Andrew wasn't holding back his frustration. He was expected to give the police department an idea of the victimology to broadcast for protection over the city, and they had spent the past two days collecting evidence that they were now struggling to decode.

"A lot of people go to bars to get drunk. What singles out these men in particular?" Beatrice wondered aloud and took the folder from Connor. She took out all of the papers and separated them in four stacks for the four victims. She handed Randy Gardner and Kenny Lehrman to Connor, Grover Cook to Andrew, and she kept Chris Green for herself.

"We'll never be able to figure this out if we look at the big picture. We need to break down this case down into pieces," Beatrice relaxed in her chair and began reading through her stack of papers for Chris.

The room was quiet as the three began to narrow down into one singular victim in search of a distinct reason these victims were chosen. Beatrice wasn't going to make this discovery easy for them, as she too didn't understand why she murdered these victims in particular. Normally, these men approached her and when, as always, they acted in a sexual and predatory manner, Beatrice took matters in her own hands. It was almost like fate. Some higher power was sending these men into her life to protect the women of her city. If she wouldn't have eliminated these victims, who knows who they would have hurt.