Birdeater

Chapter 1

Florence Hill is an academic.

That is why he carries a water-stained copy of Rebecca everywhere he goes.

Florence Hill does not like to stand out.

He drives the same car as everyone else; a boring silver Ford Taurus.

Florence Hill is a natural blond. The week he first moved in he had been a natural ginger. Or so Blair had assumed. That was his mistake.

Florence Hill is the most beautiful man that Blair Grant has ever seen.

Blair did not write that part down. He set his bent 3-subject notebook down in his lap and reached over to grab his coffee. It was only nine in the morning and finally over 60 degrees. He still wore a bit of a jacket. It smelled like smoke and laundry detergent.

His front patio wasn't much. He had a small table and two outdoor chairs that were almost too broken down to carry out their purpose.

He kept his notebook on his lap because he did not want it to get wet. There was a fresh coffee ring on the table. It made all the old coffee stains look pale.

He drank a lot of coffee. He spent a lot of mornings out here. Florence always went running at 6 AM. Blair made sure to be outside on his patio by 5:45 AM.

Blair turned a crinkling page, heavy with ink, and glanced at his notes from the day before. A lot of them read the same way. He tried to notice something new every day. He tried to find every interlocking piece of the puzzle that would come together and create a complete profile.

It was starting to get more difficult. He had been studying Florence for the better part of two years; ever since he moved in. And it was helping. It truly was. One subject over in his notebook was his latest draft of his profile for the "Birdeater". He could already see significant improvements in his method. It was so vastly superior to the one he had first sent the sheriff almost three years prior. They never responded to Blair's letters and always brushed him off if he went straight to the office.

But then, they never caught the guy, either. They never delivered Blair's profile to the media, or his sketch.

So it was hardly a surprise that Virginia's most prolific serial killer was still walking the streets.

Hopefully they had learned their lesson. And once Blair gave them the updated profile, they would let him on the team for sure.

He would be a goddamn hero.

Blair's watch beeped.

7 AM.

Florence slowed to a jog once he reached the end of his driveway and then trotted up to his door. He unlocked it with a passcode from his smartwatch.

He was barely even breathing hard.

Blair thought about greeting him. He always thought about saying something. Florence never looked his way. They had only spoken once. Blair had written down the exact date.

It was the day Blair accidentally received a piece of Florence's mail. Junk mail. A cable advertisement. But the envelope had an important shape and he knew he could get away with 'Sorry, I wasn't sure'.

He went to take it over, gracelessly stepping through the line of hedges that divided their driveways.

Florence was getting out of his car. Their eyes met and he dropped what he was holding.

It was a well-loved copy of Rebecca. Blair almost fell to his knees to pick it up.

When he held it out, his hand was trembling.