Page 7 of Aperture

“At least,” he continues,” they don’t have the detail that all of the scarves are red. Let’s hope to Hell we can keep that one a secret.”

He scans the room again but this time his gaze lands on me and stays there. This is my third year as a detective with robbery/homicide, and I’ve been working this particular case for almost a year. I have a partner but he’s getting ready to retire and to be honest, he does not give a shit anymore. It’s just as well. I work better alone.

“Hudson, you’re supposed to be some kind of genius. What has that Ivy-league brain of yours figured out? Give me something. ANYTHING,” he emphasizes.

“Sir, it appears that the victim was killed in her home,” I start. “She was posed, like the other two victims. No forced entry. The crime scene was immaculate. He left nothing behind.”

“So you’re telling me we have nothing?” His face is growing redder and redder by the second.

“Nothing definitive,” I admit, “but we have built a profile, which everyone has already been briefed on. We are looking for a white male aged 25-40. He is organized, and the killings appear to be mission-based since all the victims are young, attractive women, similar in appearance. There is no sign of sexual assault.” I pause to make sure I have the attention of the room. “We think he has ties to this town. He may even live here. He has a job, and he is highly intelligent. He has been able to talk his way inside these women’s homes, so he is socially capable.” I wish I could say more, but this is all I can offer now.

“Well, that’s not a whole Hell of a lot, is it?” Captain Altmeyer frowns, his eyebrows knit together in an angry unibrow.

“No, sir, it’s not,” I admit.

“Then, ladies and gentlemen, I suggest you get back to work,” with resignation, Captain Altmeyer smacks the folder in his hand on the corner of a nearby cabinet and walks away purposefully.

I go over to my desk and open the file again, looking over the crime scene photos of the latest victim. I know these photos forward and backward. The images are imprinted on my brain. I can’t share my true thoughts with anyone else. I’m closer to this case than anyone knows.

Chapter 5

It's Wednesday and seventy-two hours have passed since Theo gave me his number. That’s the magic number, right? After seventy-two hours, you no longer seem too eager? Too desperate?

I decide to text him a little later since I don’t know his schedule or if he’s even awake yet. Thankfully, I have plenty to do over the next few hours to keep me busy. I need to clean my house and pick up some supplies for work at a local photography shop. Most people might complain about cleaning their home, but not me. I love it.

I inherited my little house from my grandfather and it’s kind of my obsession. It’s a little 2- bedroom, 1-bathroom craftsman-style cottage, with a small front yard, framed by a 3-foot white picket fence that I put in myself. I have two large trees on the property, as well as several small fruit trees. Not to brag, but my curb appeal is idyllic. The house is painted a charcoal color with white framing surrounding the windows and white trim. The door is a big, heavy oak door that takes all of my strength to open. My grandfather built it himself, and I will never replace it.

I’m currently using the second bedroom as a dark room.

Easily, my favorite part of my home is my bathroom, particularly the claw foot bathtub that I had installed last year. It’s become my nighttime routine to take a bath before going to bed each evening. But, alas, there’s no time for that right now.

I’ve got things to do and distractions to create. I light a candle, get out the pine-scented cleaner, and hit play on my “happy playlist.”

◆◆◆

“Thank you, Kathy,” I say over my shoulder as I leave the photography shop a few hours later. “See you next week.”

“Bye, Millie. Take care,” she calls. I try to shop locally whenever I can. I’m aware that if I used a large online conglomerate, I could probably save some money, but I’d rather spend my money within the community.

I step out onto the street, and I’m met with the strangest feeling. Chills break out over my skin, and the hair on the back of my neck stands up. A cold shiver crawls up my spine, and I immediately feel the need to wrap my jacket tighter around my body.

I feel like someone is watching me.

I look to the left and the right, but there’s no one else on the street. It’s deserted except for a few parked cars, which are empty. The day has gotten away from me, and it’s late afternoon. Since it’s fall, it’s getting dark already. The forecast calls for rain later, and the gray clouds have entirely shut out the ability of the sun to touch me and warm the chill.

I’m thinking about how I need to get home and text Theo when I see a man walking in my direction. I could have sworn I didn’t see anyone a moment ago when I scanned the area. He’s wearing black jeans, a black hoodie and a baseball cap. I’m momentarily frozen as I watch him approach.

As he gets closer I can make out the light brown color of his hair underneath his cap. Once he’s in front of me his piercing blue eyes meet mine. He has an intensity about him that commands my attention. My initial thought is that he’s a beautiful man, in a very masculine way. It takes me a moment to realize that he’s saying something to me.

“I’m sorry, what?” I look up into his face. Now that he’s closer I can see his strong jawline covered with a perfect dusting of brown stubble. His lips are full and his eyebrows are pulled together over those ocean-blue eyes like he’s concerned about something.

“I asked you if you were OK?” he says.

“Oh, yes. I’m sorry,” I punctuate my answer with an awkward laugh. “I was just trying to remember where I parked my car.”

I’d have to be a complete idiot to forget where I parked. We both look around the nearly deserted street and see only a few cars. Real smooth, Millie.

He smiles and says, “Do you see it now?”