The Lancaster Murderer

Home, 3:00 PM

"He might be on track with the spree aspect of the killings, though," I remarked. "Multiple murders would be detrimental. It would get attention."

"You know what would get the most attention?" Valeria asked, head on the car window. "Revealing themselves. You think they leave these ominous notes and create these big disasters just to go down as 'unidentified killer?'"

Her words hung in the air, a separate being all in themselves. The impact of her words left us speechless. With how extravagant the murders have been, did we really think we just figured their end result would be to vanish? The killer didn't start this, planning on skating by unscathed. They planned a massive unveiling at the end of their blood trail. They must have - their profile points to nothing else.

The only question is: "Were the victims only accessible to earn them fame? Or was there meaning behind every one?"

Nobody answered. Nobody needed to. Any answer that we could have been provided wouldn't have made anything better. In fact, thinking about the answer only made the reality of what's happening seem incredibly bleak and unnerving. Knowing the outline of the future without any details was terrifying. It was like knowing the day you were going to die, but not knowing the method or how to change it.

Plus, if the victims had meaning, then we've been missing a big message that could have curbed the serial murders. On the other and, if they were simply convenient, then that means countless lives were lost simply for being at the wrong place at the wrong time. If that were the case, then not only is this bastard twisted enough to preform these killings, but they were cold enough to not care who it happened to.

By the time we got home, my head was pounding in a blossoming headache spurred on by unanswerable questions. Or rather, questions that might not get answered until it was too late. The three of us were equally beat and ended up sleeping the rest of the day off.

The next day, we numbly eat food and keep a watch on the news. Now, it's three in the afternoon, and the weather is being interrupted for breaking news. With a sinking feeling, I know what it is before they display the new headline. We all do.

Valeria puts her plate of food on the coffee table and curls up, eyes owlish as they watch the screen, guilt needlessly plaguing her mind. Izayah sits between us on the couch, folding his hands together and leaning on his knees. I go stiff and still, breathing quietly as though to hear every decibel through the speakers.

The reporter pops up on the screen, an out-of-focus but very recognizable house blurred in the background. "This is the home of Lancaster's sheriff, Jocelyn Dumois. Recently criticized for the mishandling of the recent string of violent deaths of Lancaster, she had taken a brief time off from work. However, that time off became a death sentence when, just yesterday, an anonymous call recommended a wellness check for the address. Police traced the call to a phonebooth located outside of Lancaster, but could not gather who used the phone."

Izayah breathes out a sigh of relief. He was thorough in choosing an isolated location, and even used my jacket to handle the smelly phone. Thankfully, it paid off.

"Dumois was found hanging from wires with an ominous note indicating that there was something for authorities to check in her office. However, when investigated, officers only found Dumois's work gun. The entire house was carefully sifted through, but there was nothing to signal a revelation of any time. Officers suspect that whoever knew to call police took what was of value, and they have been scanning for fingerprints since yesterday."

Mentally, I review all my activities inside the house. I didn't touch anything – of that, I'm certain. But what if my shoe accidentally edged into the pool of blood? Or my hair decided to fall onto the floor? Nervousness starts to eat away at my mind, already weakened from recent thoughts.