The screen went black for a long time. Finally, the recording was finished.
Reilly gave a deep sigh – she was unsure how to feel. They now knew for sure that were dealing with the same killer, one with a Dante fixation. They also had a better sense of the perp’s motive – he was a vigilante, someone who had been failed by the system and was dishing out his own form of justice in his own unique way. And clearly his chosen victims had somehow helped bring about this injustice.
The light mark she’d noticed on the ex-cop’s jacket deserved further investigation, but that could well turn out to be nothing. She felt deep frustration . The killer was, as Kennedy had observed, a tease – a clever, motivated, meticulous tease. She glanced across at the detectives. Their faces seemed to be registering the same emotions as her own.
‘Thoughts?’
Kennedy scowled. ‘He’s a clever little fucker.’
‘Let’s include that in our next press conference, why don’t we?’ Chris said drily.
‘Might as well – nothing else we’re doing is getting us any closer to finding him.’ Kennedy stood up and stomped over to the far side of the room where the coffee pot stood steaming. ‘He holds all the cards, doesn’t he?’ He poured himself a cup and looked over at the others. ‘You lot want any?’
Both Chris and Reilly nodded, and Kennedy kept talking while he poured. ‘So he tells us it’s all about justice – well, we’d kind of figured out that much. He tells us there are two more to come – but how do we know who they are, or how to stop him?’
‘I hate to say it,’ Chris admitted, ‘but Knight is right. Until this guy fucks up, we’re still just pissing in the wind.’
Kennedy scowled. ‘And from where I’m standing, the wind is blowing straight towards us.’