Paint the town red

Chapter XVIII

In the morning, as we agreed, Max went to the seller to ask him about the buyer of the "burner" phone, and I went straight to the station to talk to Logan. Although I tried to focus on my work and our case, thoughts about George's strange behavior towards Max still wouldn't leave my head. I remember the first time we met, they literally hit it off, but a friend knows perfectly well that I have feelings for my partner. Or is it because of what George knows and my belief that partners can't date, that he decided to make a move? They get along well, they're not partners like me and Max, and what's the point of stopping them from becoming a couple? Gosh, just thinking about it really gets on my nerves. I'm gonna have to talk to George and get it straight from him, and not to beat myself up in case I've thought something wrong.

When I got to the station, Max wasn't there. Apparently, he decided to go straight from home to the seller and not come here. Well, that's what I'd do, 'cause why waste time? But I was a little upset I didn't see him this morning. But, anyway, even if the morning turned out to be so-so, work will not keep you waiting, so, leaving my outerwear in the office and grabbing a cup of coffee from the coffee machine in the hallway, and headed to Sargeant's office.

When I walked into his office, the guy was sitting at his desk typing something on his computer. Sometimes I think he doesn't sleep at all, but he sits at the computer for days and he's searches for something, typing something, or trying to improve something.

I walked up to the guy and sat at his desk, and he turned his chair to me.

"Well, by the looks of you, was it a restless night?"

He chuckled softly, and I rolled my eyes and leaned back.

"You better tell me what you found on the recordings."

Logan turned to the monitor again, did a couple of clicks and brought up the video: it was evening, but there were a lot of people in the park; a guy in black clothes stood out among the crowd, who literally swept past several pairs of people in the park lane and threw his cell phone in the trash, where we later found it. And again, nothing new, because the guy's face didn't get on the camera - this time he was covered with a cap visor and a hood pulled over it. He was dressed almost exactly like the night Piastri was killed, and there were no distinctive or prominent features in his behavior or appearance. I sighed and Logan turned it off and turned back to me.

"He's a bloody genius. He doesn't leave any evidence, he works fast, and do it clear and well-thought-out, and he skillfully avoids getting caught on camera."

"Yes, and it makes us desperate."

"Maybe that's his goal?"

"To make us desperate?"

Logan shook his head, then looked at me carefully and folded his arms across his chest.

"Not us, but you, buddy."

"I just don't understand why he even targeted me."

"I don't understand it either, but everything points to you. The first victim, according to your correspondence, was your best friend; the second one has no contact with you, and in general he seemed to accidentally come to hand, but in the end he was once connected with you; the third victim... as I understand you and him... well..."

"We we're together, yes."

I nodded and took a small sip of the cold coffee from the cup. We need to tell Fred to change the vending machine, otherwise the coffee from it seems to be getting worse and worse every day.

Logan and I spent some more time talking about the messages between me and the victims, then we tried to find at least some clues among their correspondence with other people, but we never found anything remotely threatening. While we were rereading texts history on Carlos's phone, my own phone vibrated in my pocket. I took it out and saw that Max was calling, so I took the call right away.