LUCY SANDERS SHOWED up at the station with her painting by Sean Peirick forty minutes after we ended our call.

“Sorry it took a while to get here, but I live across the river in Cahokia,” she explained. “Anyway, here it is.”

She held up a black and white silhouette painting of a woman with red tears, which was presumably bloody tears. That reminded me of the red painting of me, and I called down to the crime lab.

“I need a swab done on another painting, please,” I told Jackie, and she immediately came upstairs.

“Do you think this is blood again?” she voiced, and I nodded.

“I just wonder whom it belongs to,” I declared. “Also, why did he paint it?” I turned to Eric, who was studying the piece. “While I talk to Miss Sanders, could you see about getting a psychologist in here? Perhaps the police shrink will come in.”

“Sure,” he replied and went to his Rolodex while I invited Lucy to sit by my desk. “So, I’ll call up the sketch artist in a minute, but I have some questions first. Did you talk much with him before purchasing his artwork?”

She looked down nervously at her lap. “Not really. I was talking about how much I liked the piece, and he told me it was his work. That’s when I asked for his autograph, and that’s pretty much the extent of the conversation.”

“Did you recognize him from the area?” I asked.

She shook her head. “No. I always go to the galas for new artists, and I’ve never seen him or his work before.”

“Hmm…I guess he’s new to art then, or he’s just new to this community,” I stipulated and ran another search in NCIC, using some of his newer parameters. I looked up crimes with lacerations, broken bones, and burns, but nothing came up with a combination of the factors. I also looked up holes that were drilled into the body, and it was also null.

“You’re just a different kind of evil, aren’t you?” I mumbled to myself.

“Did you ask me something?” Lucy questioned, and I felt my face redden.

“No, I was just thinking aloud. I’m going to get the sketch artist up here.” I made a call down to the main floor and was told someone would be up shortly.

The first person to step off the elevator, though, was Jackie, and she looked excited. “The red substance was blood mixed with paint again, and the DNA matched your recently deceased victim, Tiffany Clark,” she informed us.

Lucy jumped up from her seat. “Ew! I bought artwork with someone’s blood on it? Who is this creep?” she shrieked loudly.

“He’s a serial killer and at the moment, impossible to catch,” I mumbled under my breath. “As unfortunate as your situation is with the painting, you’re quite lucky you didn’t get hurt or murdered by him.”

She put one hand to her mouth and the other to her heart. “I was talking to the St. Louis Slasher? I don’t believe it,” she whispered and slowly sank back into the chair.

“Yes, you were, and I’m glad you’re all right. We’ll need to keep the painting until after the case is over,” I informed her.

She waved a hand at me. “Keep it forever. I don’t ever want to see it again.”

Jackie was still standing there, and she cleared her throat. “There’s one more thing about the blood. We have a hair this time, and it has the root bulb attached. It’s in analysis still, but I’ll bring up the results as soon as I have them.”

I clapped my hands together once. “That’s terrific news! Maybe we can finally nail this son-of-a-bitch.”

The sketch artist, who freelanced with the station, showed up and led Lucy to the interview room for quiet and privacy. The man in the final drawing had a mole on his right cheek and reddish-brown hair. We thanked Lucy for her cooperation, and she quickly left since her part was finished. Again, she told us to keep the painting.

I held up the sketch of the Slasher and studied it along with my partners. “So, you fancy yourself a master of disguise, don’t you? Well, I’m a master at puzzles,” I murmured aloud. “Eric, did you get ahold of the psychologist?”

“Yes, but she can’t make it until tomorrow morning. They’re doing their holiday celebrating with family today,” he replied.

“Okay. I’ll be here bright and early,” I told them, and then I went down to the crime lab to wait for the results on the hair follicle, hoping that we were finally getting somewhere.