Killer Instincts

Chapter Six

Bailey's heart pounded in her chest as she pulled into the parking lot of the precinct. She hadn't planned on leaving so abruptly, but something inside her snapped when the conversation with her friends drifted to fear and helplessness. The uncertainty gnawed at her, clawing at her mind with every passing moment, and the walls of the apartment felt like they were closing in. She couldn't just sit there, pretending that everything would be fine. Not when Mia and Carlos were gone, and not when the city seemed to be teetering on the edge of chaos.

She parked her car, killed the engine, and sat in silence for a moment, staring at the cold, impersonal brick exterior of the Tucson Police Department. Her fingers drummed against the steering wheel, her mind racing with questions she wasn't sure Sergeant Rodriguez would be able to answer. But she needed to know—had to know—what they had on the Phantom Ripper, what the police weren't telling the public, and whether they were any closer to catching the person responsible for the murders that haunted her every thought.

Bailey grabbed her bag and stepped out of the car, her shoes scuffing against the asphalt as she made her way toward the entrance. The automatic doors slid open with a soft whoosh, and the sterile, fluorescent-lit interior greeted her with the low hum of activity. The precinct was alive with movement—officers talking in low voices, phones ringing, and the rhythmic clatter of keyboards filling the air. But it felt distant, like white noise in the background of her anxiety.

Sergeant Rodriguez had agreed to meet with her—her tone on the phone had been wary, but understanding. She knew that, as an intern, Bailey wasn't technically supposed to be so deeply involved. But Rodriguez had seen the fire in her from the beginning, her relentless need to dig deeper, to understand the dark undercurrents of crime that swirled through the city. And now, with Mia and Carlos dead, it had become personal. She had to know that Bailey wouldn't rest until she had answers.

Bailey approached the security checkpoint and set her Ghostface crossbody bag on the belt, her heart still pounding. The officer who sat behind the belt, who was operating the x-ray, belt, and metal detector, gestures for Bailey to walk into the metal detector as her bag moves down the belt, scanning for anything that could cause harm. When she was cleared, Bailey grabbed her bag and slung it across her body, and through the door the officer had unlocked for her. 

Bailey thanked the bored officer as she slipped through the door and in the direction of Rodriguez's office. "Sergeant Rodriguez is expecting you. She's in her office," an officer, that she had seen around the precinct, said, his voice brisk but not unkind. He gestured down the hallway, and Bailey nodded, her throat tight as she made her way toward the back.

Rodriguez's office was a small, cluttered space filled with case files, half-empty coffee cups, and an old fan that whirred noisily in the corner. The blinds were half-drawn, casting the room in a grayish light that matched the somber mood of the precinct. Rodriguez herself sat behind her desk, her face lined with exhaustion. She looked up as Bailey knocked lightly on the doorframe. "Bailey," She said her voice a mix of surprise and understanding. "Come in." Bailey stepped inside, closing the door behind her. The quiet click felt like the final barrier between her and the outside world. Now it was just her and Rodriguez—and the questions she needed answered. "Thanks for seeing me," she began, her voice steadier than she felt. "I—I just couldn't sit around anymore. Not with everything that's happening." Rodriguez nodded, leaning back in her chair, studying Bailey carefully. "I figured you'd show up eventually. It's a lot to process, I know." She rubbed her temples, sighing heavily. "But you need to understand, Bailey—there's not much I can share with you right now. This case... it's bigger than any of us anticipated." Bailey swallowed hard, her hands clenching the strap of her bag. "I get that. But Mia and Carlos—Sergeant, they were my friends. I can't just sit around and wait for the next news report, or the next body. I need to know what's going on. Please. There has to be something."Rodriguez's expression softened for a moment, a flicker of sympathy passing through her tired eyes. "I wasn't aware they were your friends Bailey. I'm sorry to hear that." Rodriguez frowns. "I know this hits close to home for you. But we're doing everything we can. This killer—whoever they are—they're smart. Too smart. They're careful, deliberate. Every move they make feels planned." Bailey knew that the murders were planned in some way. These murders weren't crimes of passion. They were pre-meditated.