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him remained.

Perhaps they'd caught him on video getting gas, or a hooker. Maybe he left behind some piece of evidence. While my coworkers wound their way through the lot and restaurant, I went into the gas station and quietly asked to speak to the manager.

After waiting about twenty minutes an older gentleman came out looking grumpy and extremely unhappy. Based on his tousled hair, either he had been taking a nap or was otherwise engaged in something with a lot lizard. I pulled him off to the side and in a very quiet voice told him who I was; by the look of fear that crossed his face I suspected he had been with a hooker instead of snoozing when his employee went and got him.

“We are looking for a person of interest in a case. We need to see your security footage.”

"We don't keep nothing longer than twenty-four hours."

"That's okay. We still need to see them.”

“What’d this guy do, anyway?”

“Murdered a few women.”

“Oh, dear. When do y’all think he was here? Like I said, cameras only run one day.”

“He would have been here today."

The man's face paled and his jaw dropped.

"Today?" he squeaked.

"Yes, sir."

"Oh, dear."

"Sir?"

"Well, I was here all day, which means I might have talked to him."

The man was even paler than before and was starting to sway. I walked him over to a booth at the attached Wendy's and we sat down.

"It's quite possible."

"What's he look like?"

"We are going to need the security tapes, sir."

"What sort of car does he drive? Would he kill me? Will he come back to kill me now that I've talked to you?"

"Unless you are a woman you have nothing to worry about."

"My wife is a woman." He looked shell shocked.

"Unless your wife is a hooker you've nothing to fear."

"My mistress is a hooker." The old fellow wasn't going to make this easy on me.

"Well, it's best she watches her back for a while and tell her not to take on any new, uh, clients right now."

"Oh, dear."

"Sir, the footage?"

"Yes. The footage. I will get the discs for you immediately. There will be four of them. They cover the whole lot and part of the road as well." He stood and shakily led me into his office, weaving the whole way as if he were drunk.

Coupled with his still too pale face I started worrying about his health.

"Sir, do you have any health conditions?"

"I have a weak heart."

"Okay, sir, I need you to sit down in your chair and slow your breathing. Try to relax a little, please."

"You're funny. Relax. A vicious killer has been through my store today and you’re telling me to relax? What if he comes back for revenge? Sometimes they come back."

"He isn't the sort to come back. He believes he is on a mission. He won't deviate from it."

"You promising me that, young lady?"

"No, sir, I can't promise you anything. What I can say is he has no reason to come back here. He has no idea we know he has been here. To him this was just another stop in a busy day."

"You reckon?" The old fellow started getting some pink back in his cheeks. Slowing his breathing had taken some of the shakiness from him. However, he still sat slumped against his office chair looking as if someone had shot his dog.

"I do." I smiled confidently at him.

With my assurance he leaned forward and opened what looked like a DVD player and pulled out the four discs. He gently nestled them in their cases as if they were golden eggs.

Then he handed me the cases and whispered, "Find him," ever so dramatically before he fainted.

I called an ambulance and turned over the discs to Sheila while I waited for the paramedics to arrive. She and Josh took them back to the office. A few of the agents stuck around with me and spoke to all the lot lizards (hookers who work truck stops), making sure to warn them not to go with any man in a gold Taurus.

Sure, he could change out his car, and, sure, he wasn't going after humans (that we knew of), but better safe than sorry.

By the time the ambulance arrived, the gas station manager was doing much better and they decided he didn't need to go to the hospital. He thanked them for coming out and urged me again to find Grisly.

Like I wasn't fucking trying already? Sorry, I know I shouldn't get riled like that, but it is so frustrating. I hate when people blame the cops because the bad guys are good at hiding. Like we just sit around all day and eat donuts while crime goes on unchecked?

Such a ridiculous stereotype. Most law enforcement officers I know are exhausted from pulling twelve to sixteen hour days and spend every moment they can trying to stop and prevent crimes from happening. Some of them even work six days a week to try and help the world.

Again, sorry about the tangent. At any rate, the video guys would be combing through the surveillance footage looking for Grisly and there was nothing more I could do. I left the gas station and called Quinn on my way to Ben's house. He'd been with the guy all day so I figured it was my turn to bite the bullet and take over babysitting duty.

Chapter 11

"HEY, SAM, I HEARD ABOUT THE LATEST VIC. Sorry you had to work it without me. But I'm even more sorry that I was stuck here watching your maker all day." Quinn was irritated. I could hear it in his voice.

"I know. I get that you'd rather be in on the action than home with the kiddies. Thanks, though, for keeping him safe. Much as I don't care for the guy he was right on about the car. We are definitely looking for a gold Taurus."

I heard Quinn's sigh and tried not to smile.

"Well, at least he has the good sports stations

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