Chapter Text
Chapter 9
(23 hours and 21 minutes to the deadline)
Miles Hayes’ POV
Darkness; That was all he could see. He has no idea how much time has passed, but the room, or wherever he was, still didn’t lighten up. It was as dark as it had been when he first woke up. And he has gotten nowhere since that moment. He still doesn’t even know where he is or what happened.
He swallows thickly, throat protesting. He had screamed… he had screamed for hours until he just couldn't get himself to do so anymore.
He had screamed for everyone he could think of that would help him. First of course his mother, she was always there for her, but after a long time she didn’t come. Miles had tried his sister, because what if it was her doing? But no, Emma would never stoop to that level in her life so he quickly discarded it.
He even screamed for his dad, but he didn’t expect him to come, so he had quickly switched to his teacher, and then his neighbour. The old lady who would always try to give him more cookies than mom allowed. She was incredibly sweet, surely she would come? But nothing was less true.
His throat was raw, scratchy, and dry. It was so incredibly dry, and he just wanted someone to give him some water, anything. But there was no one around him to help him, no one that could hear him, or maybe they did and it was all part of the plan. Miles freezes for a moment, eyes widening.
It was probably just all a prank, a sick joke his friends were pulling. Emma would never but maybe his friends..
Or maybe it was those bullies at school, Troy and James. He has pissed off the two when he got them into detention after he hit them. But in his defence, they were going after his sister Emma, and while he was technically a few minutes younger than her, he wasn’t going to let them bully her.
So it must be them. Maybe they took him on his way to school.. or on his way back? Miles frowns slightly, the memory hazy. They must’ve gotten him and taken him somewhere else. There were probably camera’s or something watching him, laughing at his panic. Miles grits his teeth at that.
No, he wouldn’t allow them that satisfaction, he had to get out. His arms flexed, feeling the rope against his wrists, digging into them. He carefully pitches forwards, getting onto his knees. His stomach immediately lurches, and he falls down again, back colliding with.. whatever was behind him.
Miles groans, rolling his neck to try and reduce it. That… didn’t go well. He takes a shuddering breath, shuffling on the ground. His hands flex again, and he runs his fingers along the structure behind him.
Then, his fingers suddenly brush against something. Miles’s eyes widen, adjusting slightly to get a better feel. It was definitely a lock, the kind of lock that you have in the bathroom. I could get out of here. Miles immediately jams his nail into the groove, twisting. He hisses, feeling a tinge of pain run along his fingers.
Shit. He could feel his nail give in, and he whimpered in pain but didn't give up. Try again, try again.
Then his fingers brush over the floor, and his hands brush against the coin he had found in his mouth. A coin he could use to get out of here…. His captor had just given him a way to get out.
*
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*
(23 hours and 13 minutes to the deadline)
“Honestly, it all just feels like one of those movies,” Taylor mutters behind Buck, running her hands across her face and sighing sadly. “A really bad movie.” Buck glances at her through the mirror at her words, slightly confused. But the woman didn’t elaborate on what she was talking about, leaving Buck with more questions than answers.
“What do you mean?” Buck asks, focusing on the road in front of him again. The last thing he needed was for him to accidentally crash the car. If that happened then he might as well drive himself to the police station right now because he wouldn’t be able to leave that hospital before they completely cleared his name.
Knowing Lou and Gerrard… or even Athena, that wasn’t going to happen until at least the current ultimatum has run out. And Buck wasn’t going to risk more children dying. Not even the 118 would let him leave until that, not that they believed he could ever be responsible.
They probably believed that Buck would do something stupid… and in their defence, they wouldn’t be wrong if Buck was honest.
Taylor takes a deep breath. “I’m stuck in a bad movie, and these visions are flashbacks,” Taylor explains and Buck lets out a questioning noise before he can stop it. He practically sees the annoyance on her face. “I know what flashbacks are, we still watch television,” Taylor explains at the noise, a little more irritated.
Not that Buck could find it in himself to particularly care right now. He didn’t mean to even ask her about her choice of words but that was too late now. So instead, he remains silent, eyes trained on the road and waiting for Taylor to continue her train of thought. Taylor eventually sighs again, defeated this time.
“I’m tired, these visions, they’re not a gift to me,” She complains eventually, seemingly staring at Buck, but he knows that was impossible. “I can’t control them, they happen when I’m not even suspecting it,” She speaks up, and Buck could clearly hear the frustration in her voice.
If the woman was telling the truth about her visions, then Buck could see why they would bother her so much. Because who would want to be confronted with random memories of people, especially if that included seeing the actual kidnapping of a child by a notorious serial killer.
“You can’t control them?” Buck asks, but it wasn’t really a question, because Taylor had been very clear. She had no way to control them. And Buck wasn’t surprised to see Taylor shake her head at his question, signalling that she indeed couldn’t control her gift, or control when she saw these visions.
Which left him with more questions than before, because if she couldn’t control the visions, then what was triggering them? There must be some way that these visions were starting, or why. That is, if the woman was telling the truth. Because so far, if it weren’t for the right ultimatum, Buck would’ve discarded her story.
“So how about we go back to the vision, you said you took the children into your car after you gave the mother the stopwatch?” Buck instead continues when he realises that Taylor wasn’t continuing with her other story, and there were still holes in the story that Buck needed to fill.
Taylor shakes her head again, reaching down to scratch Bret’s fur. “Child,” Taylor says abruptly. “Just one.”
“So you’re sure there wasn’t another child already in the car?” Buck asks, because that was one way her story could still make sense. “Did you black out? Lose part of the vision?”
“No I never blacked out, Buck, I remember just fine. There was one child,” Taylor claims, not even an ounce of hesitation in her voice. She fully believed what she was saying, but that didn’t make sense to Buck at all. Because there were two children currently being held captive. Emma and Miles. Meaning, that there was a major flaw in Taylor's story that she was telling him right now. Something wasn’t adding up.
But if the woman was actually making this story up, then why would she? Everyone right now knew that the Eye Collector currently had two children. It was all over the news right now, and was spreading all across their town. Two children, not just one like any other time. So if Taylor really wanted to consciously trick him, she would have incorporated that into the story.
Either believing she had a magic gift… or she was completely mental and probably unstable?
“So just one child was in your car, did you see anything else? Something weird?” Buck asks, but Taylor huffs out an annoyed breath.
“I told you, no. I drove until I was on a hill, and I took out my binoculars to look-”
“And you didn’t have to search for something? You knew where you had to look?” Buck tries to press again, because nothing about it made any sense.
“Yes,” Taylor tells him shortly. “And so did the man in the garden somehow. He was looking in my direction, he couldn’t see me but he knew I was there.” Because that’s what Taylor had told him before. Somehow the father of the twins had looked up, and that meant that he knew where the Eye Collector was standing, he didn’t just see him.
He knew where the man was, because otherwise it would make no sense. The binoculars already revealed that they were standing too far away from each other to spot.
“So why did you watch?” Buck asks, but Taylor shrugs.
“I don’t know why I got out to watch, Buck, I can’t read minds,” Taylor says curtly, and Buck sighs. Because of course she couldn’t.
“All I know is that I got out of the car and I watched. There was no one down there at first but I waited until I saw the car pull up and a man jump out of it. He was frantic to get to the body, falling to his knees and crying,” Taylor shudders. “And I know I felt happy, accomplished and that only got worse when he looked at me. Maybe I was laughing, I don’t really know for sure,” Taylor continues.
Buck shudders at that, to think that someone would enjoy someone else’s suffering so much.
“And you’re sure he couldn’t have seen you?” Buck presses, and again Taylor shakes her head.
“No, he was definitely too far away, I already needed those binoculars to see the man. There was no way he would be able to see me, maybe a figure-” Taylor says, cutting herself off suddenly. “Why?” She asks instead, and Buck takes a deep breath. For a moment he contemplated sharing his thoughts with her, but in the end it didn’t really matter, she would soon realise where they were going.
Because if Taylor was telling the truth here, and that was a big if, then the father of Miles and Emma had to know the Eye Collector would be standing there at that time. After all, from that distance he could maybe see a figure in the distance standing there on the hill, if he could see anything at all.
But it was too far to see a face, or to actually recognise someone. So why would the father look if he didn’t know the Eye Collector was there? Which could only mean one thing, the man in the garden knew the Eye Collector would be standing there. And if he knew the Eye Collector would be there…..
Then there had to be a connection between the father of the twins and the Eye Collector, and the father would hold the clue to finding his own children.
Maybe the man was even in on the killing, maybe the police had been all wrong about their suspect. Maybe it wasn’t just one man, maybe there were two, partners in crime that would do the killing together. And now the man had turned on the father for whatever reason.
Or maybe there was just one, and the Eye Collector had set up everything just to get to his current victim. Nothing was certain anymore.
But one thing that was certain was that Buck had to go to the father if he wanted to find out what was going on here.
*
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*
(22 hours and 48 minutes to the deadline)
Lou glances around the room for a moment, an annoyed expression on his face, and even Gerrard seemed as annoyed as he was. The other man on the other hand was perfectly content to be there it seemed, even excited. Lou grumbles.
“Why are we here, and not out there like we should be?” He mutters angrily, glaring at the man in front of him. However, the man, Rick Romero, didn’t seem to take offence. Instead, he smiles despite the remark that was thrown at him. The glare remained on Lou’s face as he watched the man.
“We are trying to establish a motive, paint a picture of the man-” Rick explains, but he can’t even finish his sentence.
“Or woman,” Gerrard interrupts with a stern look on his face. Rick coughs at that, nodding quickly and looking at the rest of the room to see if the rest had seen his slip up.
“Yes we are not ruling any gender out, but most perpetrators are male. But that is exactly what we are doing right now; Paint a picture of the person we are hunting,” He continues, voice rising slightly as he finds his footing again. “By doing so, we will be able to understand him, and predict where he is going, and what he is going to do.”
Rick explains, once again glancing around the room. Only Vincent Gerrard and Lou Ransone were currently in the room. The rest of the force was, as Lou had wanted, out there on the streets to look for the Eye Collector. Instead of following their lead however, they had been stuck in this room.
“What more do we need to know about him? Whoever he is, he is a psycho, a sick twisted bastard who deserves to rot in jail for the rest of his life,” Gerrard grumbles, clearly annoyed like Lou was. Rick shakes his head, turning himself back towards the drawing board that was behind him.
It was like the man was explaining something to a class of middle schoolers, a project that wasn’t in the curriculum but one of the students had asked about. And of course he was overly excited to explain the concept. That’s how he looked right now, instead of trying to profile an actual, and currently active, serial killer.
“There is so much more to learn about them,” Rick points out, glancing at Gerrard at the pronoun but Gerrard didn’t react visibly. “Either way, serial killers are smart, they are skilled, insightful; all of this is necessary to commit all these murders without getting caught. Of course there are exceptions, but most are incredibly smart to stay off our radars for so long.”
“So where is this going?” Lou asks, and Rick points to the man.
“This already tells us much about what we should know. The Eye Collector is skilled like the others, we can see it in the methods used. These murders are planned, they are carried out skilfully so to not leave a trace. That tells us a lot about who this person is,” He answers Lou’s question. “Based on statistics we can also see that these serial killers are rarely afro American, and usually will be white. And also almost never a woman.”
Gerrard shrugs as Rick looks at him at that, not really interested in spending too much time theorising the gender of the serial killer. That didn’t matter as much as catching him.
“There is no evidence anywhere on the crime scenes. We know the police has found nothing; no fingernails, no hair, no tissue samples. Whoever this guy is, he is careful, patient as well. He knows how to prevent himself from being caught. Make no mistake, this person isn’t an outcast like you would think. No Hannibal, he would be able to blend in, look as ‘normal’ as possible from the outside.”
“So we aren’t looking for people with records, or outcasts in society?” Lou asks with a frown, and Rick shakes his head.
“No, contrary to what we may want to envision, this person is well-established into society, they may be a teacher, or volunteer at the shelter every weekend. Some may even have fond memories of them, or be charmed. But they have everyone fooled that they are a normal person and that could not be further from the truth-”
Rick jumps suddenly, mouth slamming shut mid-sentence as Gerrard slams his fist on the table. Anger was written on the man’s face, and he glares at Rick. He was off his seat now, towering over the table.
“Listen here, whatever you think you’re providing us is nonsense. You’re wasting our time with this, because we already have a suspect. And we could spend our time better scrubbing the toilet with our toothbrushes than listen to this nonsense,” Gerrard hisses dangerously, and to Rick’s credit, he doesn’t back down.
Still, they could all see the man gulp, and for the first time Lou almost feels sorry for the man. He sighs.
“I’m not so sure boss,” Lou interrupts, and Rick glances at him. “Sure Buck knew a few things he shouldn’t know but that doesn’t necessarily make him a suspect.” Gerrard shakes his head in disbelief, sitting back down.
“He knew of the ultimatum, we all know that that information has not left this room, not even Athena knows. Unless either of you want to tell me you talked,” Gerrard informs in a low voice, and Rick shakes his head.
“I don’t think anyone here would ever talk about that, but you can’t ignore reality lieutenant, and I think it’s good if we listen.” Lou continues, and Rick smiles gratefully at that.
“Yes we can all theorise here about Buck, but let’s forget about him for a moment, I want to ask you, Gerrard,” Romero turns towards Gerrard again. “Since you seem to know all the answers, please speculate this for me; what exactly does the Eye Collector want to accomplish with all of this?”
*
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*
(22 hours and 16 minutes to the deadline)
“So you’re really a suspect huh?” Was definitely not what Buck hoped to hear when he put his phone against his ear, but that sentiment didn’t carry over to his colleague it seemed. Buck would’ve glared at Tommy if they had been face to face right now, and if they hadn’t been on the phone.
“Tommy-” Buck warns sharply, and Tommy is silent for a moment. Buck knew that the police were after him right now, at least he assumed they were. He knew too much, and how Buck had been roped into this mess was beyond him. First the radio call that never happened apparently.
And then his wallet had been found at the crime scene and he couldn’t recall seeing it after he bought something from the vending machine the previous day at his office. What had happened to it afterwards, Buck really had no idea and he didn’t particularly want to care about it right now.
But the worst part was the ultimatum that he shouldn’t even be aware of. Because how would he explain how he knew? He barely even believed Taylor himself, and he knew that he shouldn’t know about the ultimatum, the police didn’t. So of course they would be looking at him as a person of interest.
“On the run then? Does Eddie know?” Tommy asks eventually, and Buck sighs. If the police hadn’t filed for a warrant yet, they would soon. And if Buck wanted to elude them long enough to check out Taylor's story, he needed a different car to go unnoticed. They all knew what car he drove, and it would be too easy to pick up on it.
And he couldn’t really rope Eddie or any of the 118 into this right now, he couldn’t do that to them because they would surely talk him out of it. But Tommy… that was another story. Tommy would understand.
“I’m just being careful right now,” Buck muses, ignoring the sceptical look Tommy was no doubt giving him.
“Are you serious? The police are after you for potentially being a serial killer!” Tommy points out with a huff. “Marsha doesn’t know whether to put this story on the front page or force everyone in the office to sign an NDA to stop it from spreading to the public.” Buck winces slightly at that.
Masha Blevins has been working closely with the news about firefighters for years now, following in her older cousin’s footsteps and getting into this field. Buck had caused Marsha a fair share of scandals before, the entire 118 had, so she wasn’t a big fan of him because she was supposed to solve the scandals from happening.
Writing about a firefighter possibly being connected to the case, and knowing information that he really shouldn’t know, wasn’t a good look on them. Still, the story about the Eye Collector was a huge sensation if it was published. So of course he understood the dilemma she was in right now, not like he quite cared.
After all, he had bigger things to worry about than thinking about how the public would receive the story about a famous firefighter that somehow ended up being a suspect in the search for the notorious serial killer; the Eye Collector.
“She wants us to call her the moment any of us hears from you, she was very adamant about it,” Tommy eventually continues. Buck frowns, taking a right turn. Buck couldn’t hear any distinctive sounds from the other side of the line.
“Don’t,” Buck pleads softly, and for a moment Taylor looks up from her spot.
“Don’t worry, Buck, I won’t tell,” There is a silence, and for a moment it sounded like Tommy was hesitating. “I do wonder why you aren’t turning yourself in, you have done nothing wrong after all, right? So why can’t you just go to the station and clear your name?”
Buck takes a deep breath, because from his point of view Tommy did have a point. He had done nothing wrong as of now, if you didn’t count the illegal police radio he had in his car that is. But the problem wasn’t with his crimes, it was how he couldn’t explain any of it to the police, nor would they believe him.
Because how did he explain how he knew where the body was when he shouldn’t know since apparently nobody called the code on the police radio? And how would his wallet be found at the crime scene if he hadn’t been there before? He knew he had never been there before, and he had seen his wallet the day before.
So while he knew he was innocent, he couldn’t exactly tell the police that. They wouldn’t believe him, and going to the police would mean he wouldn’t be able to follow up on his lead.
“What would you say if I told you I met someone who can look into the past?” Buck asks instead, and Tommy sucks in a breath. He was probably thinking about what to say, or how to respond to it.
“Are you for real?” Tommy asks on the other side of the line, and Buck hums as a confirmation. “That would be the story of the century,” He acknowledges and he nods mindlessly because he was right. If Taylor was truly able to look into the past, and they could prove it, it would be even bigger than him being a suspect.
It would reach beyond the borders of their town even, Buck glances at Taylor for a moment in the mirror.
“I know, which is why I need your help. You know the police won’t believe me and I need to figure this out myself. I can’t do that if they catch me before I can.” Buck holds his breath, and eventually Tommy sighs audibly.
“Why did you have to go to me with this?” Tommy groans, and Buck just chuckles soundlessly, knowing that they both knew the answer to that question. Because Tommy was the only person he trusted enough right now who wouldn’t try to talk him out of it.
Bobby, Chim, Hen and Eddie would all do one thing, get him to do the sensible thing and go to the police. Too bad he wasn’t going to do the sensible thing.
“This is insane,” Tommy mutters darkly. “But I trust you, what do you need?” He asks, and Buck can’t help but feel accomplished for a moment, and grateful that he was still willing to help despite the slander his name was no doubt going through right now.
“I need your car, they probably already have an APB out on my jeep so I need another car,” Buck continues, and Tommy makes a disapproving sound on the other side of the line, clearly not happy with the request.
“Alright, send me your location and I will be there in 30 minutes,” Tommy eventually relents.
“Thank you,” Buck breathes out, and Tommy hangs up with an accomplished feeling. Tommy would be there when he needed the car to get away, before they would find him and his car. He lets out a sigh for now, hanging up and lowering his phone. It was just in time as well, as he noticed he reached the street he was heading towards.
He parks the car on the side of the road, opening his phone again to see that he had several missed calls from several people. Most of them were from Eddie, which didn’t surprise him both because of what was happening and because Chris’ birthday was still coming up.
He promised he would be there in the morning of his birthday, now… he wasn’t so sure if he was going to make it. There were also some texts from Bobby, Athena, even Hen and Chim had tried to contact him. Maddie as well, but he ignores all of them.
“What are we doing here?” Taylor asks a few moments after Buck stopped the car, especially since Buck hadn’t said anything after hanging up. He sighs, quickly sharing his location with Tommy before turning to her.
“Finding out if you were right,” He says shortly, unbuckling his seatbelt.
“My vision?” She asks for clarification, understanding dawning on her face. “We’re at the twin’s home?” She hisses in disbelief, and a slightly panicked look appears. Buck doesn’t pay attention to it though, getting out of the car before she can stop him. He squints slightly, observing the place.
It looked different now it wasn’t completely swarmed with police agents but it was still daunting all the same. The house was completely separated from the neighbourhood, a lonely house that was a perfect pray for the Eye Collector. It wasn’t necessarily deserted, but it was far enough from other houses.
The garden where the mother has been dropped, a perfect spot for whoever was behind all of this.
“How long did you drive?” Buck suddenly asks, not looking behind him. He didn’t need to know that Taylor had gotten out of the car behind him. How long did it take you to reach that spot on the hill? That was the question that was most important right now, because if they knew where the Eye Collector had gone, it would bring them a lot closer.
Buck glances around, spotting numerous points that would have served as the exact spot the Eye Collector stood in Taylor's vision.
“Do you have a sense of time in your dreams?” She bites back harshly, which was fair enough. “That’s what I thought. So is this going to take long? I’m hungry,” She adds quickly, and Buck shakes his head.
“Wait here, I will be right back” He tells her instead. Taylor's nose scrunches up, but Buck is already gone before she can stop him. He can hear her call out for him, but he was only focused on the house in front of him. The low fence that posed no obstacle for him, the unruly grass that hadn’t been cared for in ages.
Whoever they were, whoever the man is, did not care for maintenance much.
Without much of a warning, the light inside suddenly turns on. Buck can feel his heart jolt ever so slightly. Someone must have noticed him, the father must have noticed him. So to avoid looking like someone who wanted to break in, he walks straight towards the front door instead.
He was already in too much trouble as it is, breaking and entering wasn’t his top concern.
Buck glances through the window, allowing his eyes to roam through what must be the living room. There was a sofa, a TV, and a person sitting on the sofa. The television was on, displaying some kind of low quality movie, as far as he could see it. From inside a woman suddenly giggled.
Buck scowls in disgust, that must be the father. And here he was, just a day after his wife was murdered, hours before his two children would be murdered, and he was just sitting in the living room with another woman?
Buck reaches for the knob. The door opens almost too easily, and he realises that it must not have been locked or entirely shut after all.
Buck walks in, instantly recognising the father, Sean. Alcohol was littered all over the room, empty bottles, shattered bottles, half-empty ones, and the smell lingered, unrelenting. but they were the only two people in the room, there was no other woman with him.
“What’r ya doing?” Sean slurred, glaring up at Buck with aggression that was so typical for drunks like him.
“I could ask you the same thing, don’t you have something better to do?” Buck challenges him. The same woman lets out a giggle, and only then does Buck realise that the giggle comes from the TV. Buck feels his eyes land on the woman, who was wrapped in the embrace of another man. Her face was not visible, but she was clearly comfortable.
Sean stares at Buck with a vacant look, as if he was trying to figure out what Buck was talking about. Or he was just wondering who had just entered his home.
“What do you want punk?” He spat, grabbing the bottle again and taking a chug.
“To talk”
“About?” He spat, dropping the bottle to the ground. It shatters, but that doesn’t seem to faze him at all.
“About the man who murdered your wife, whether you know about this person,” Buck tells him, but it was as if he didn’t want to hear him. His only focus was on the couple on the television; laughing as they were filming themselves dancing to an upbeat song, without any care in the world.
Or the knowledge that someone in the near future would be watching them, but Buck doubts the man knew that he was being filmed. Flashes went through Buck’s mind, and he flinched.
“She was a whore,” Sean roared, trying to reach for another bottle but he missed completely. “A filthy whore,” He continued, straining to get a hold of another bottle. Eventually he succeeded, drinking the contents immediately before throwing it towards the television before Buck could react.
He flinches as glass explodes, but it missed the television by a mile.
“Good for nothing whore,” He growled low in his throat, gesturing to the television. “That is my wife! My house, my living room. That is my wife but this asshole isn’t me.” He continues, and Buck glances at the screen again, but both faces are now invisible to the screen. Buck looks away.
“I don’t care about your wife’s activities, what matters now is finding your kids, and catching who did this.” Buck snaps, and Sean lets out a laugh.
“Those two bastards? They can rot in hell for all I care,” Buck blinks a couple of times, wondering if he heard it correctly. “They aren’t even mine, that filthy whore!” He slams his glass on the ground, but it doesn’t faze Buck anymore. And for a moment he can just feel pity.
He knows how difficult addiction can be, knew it all too well from his captain. But that pity quickly disappears when the words sink in.
“They’re not mine, do you hear me?!” He rages, standing up quickly with scary accuracy. Another giggle was heard on the screen and Buck turns around just enough to catch the television again. And suddenly it had all clicked into place, and he had no idea how he hadn’t made the connection before.
Skip that, he did know. Because just like him, the man on the screen dancing with the woman was completely wasted, and so was the woman. Of course he wouldn’t remember much from that night, and especially not considering the woman was wearing a wig and a full face of make-up.
He feels himself get sick, flashes going through his mind at the memories of that night. It was never here in this house but he knows he met her. He didn’t even know her real name, and the only thing he knew about her was her last name.
The woman on the screen was Dr. Wells. The woman on the screen was the woman he has had sex with multiple times before he became Buck 2.0. The woman on the screen was the mother of the twins that were now kidnapped by the eye collector.
The woman on the screen was the woman who was just murdered.
And Buck would very quickly join her if Sean would fire the gun he now had pointed at him.
*
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(22 hours and 36 minutes to the deadline)
Rick was fully in his element at the moment, riled up by the participation from the small group in front of him. It was clear that he had given the Eye Collector a lot of thought, time and effort. He knew everything about whoever was behind the kidnappings, and the murders of those mothers.
And he was determined to share that knowledge with the rest of the police, he was desperate to solve the mystery. That much was clear.
“It is safe to assume that something happened in the killer’s formative years. A childhood trauma for example. Killers like the Eye Collector were often bullied, abused, mistreated or exposed to something traumatising during their childhood.
Gerrard growls low in his throat in disapproval, causing the room to look at him. “Excellent idea Rick,” Gerrard mocked. “Let’s give the serial killer an excuse, let’s make him the victim here. Of course, why not?” He continues, throwing his hands up in the air. Rick narrowed his eyes slightly.
“That’s not what’s going on-”
“The traumatic childhood is every criminal’s excuse.” Gerrard shot back, and Rick nods in a calm manner.
“That is correct. Majority of the violent killers, much like the Eye Collector, come from a dysfunctional background so to speak. Which means that this knowledge doesn’t help us much with finding him.” Rick says in a soft but determined voice. He clicks his tongue, bending down to pick up his suitcase.
“And you’ve come here to tell us how we can?” Gerrard mutters, and it became increasingly evident that he wanted nothing more than to just leave. Rick glances at the man for a moment. He had known him for a long time, and he knew that his behaviour was excused in a messed up way.
He had a happy life, until he lost everything. Or more specifically, when he lost both his wife and daughter at the same time.
Rick shook his head at the thought, knowing well enough not to dwell on the past. He put the suitcase on the table, clicking it open.
“Fortunately, the gruesome remains he leaves behind provide us with clues.” Rick says, and Lou frowns slightly.
“Clues?” He asks, leaning forwards slightly and watching Rick as he searches through his suitcase. “Care to be any more specific?”
“And hurry up, we have mere hours left until the ultimatum.” Gerrard grumbles, but Rick ignored his comment.
“Every criminal has some sort of motivation. Let’s say, to justify what they are doing in their own way. It may not always be logical, or clear to us why they are doing something, but to them it is.” Rick explains. “In the case of the Eye Collector, it’s pretty evident.”
“Of course it is, he’s a sadistic pedophile who probably gets off on his victims,” Lou mutters, and Rick sends a glare his way.
“That’s where you’re wrong” Rick shook his head. “There is no evidence on any of the bodies that would suggest that. Besides, how would you explain the removal of the left eye?”
“It’s a sign of regret in most killers.” Lou was the one to answer the question. “They are often repelled by their own actions, and close the eyes of the victim to cover up what they’ve done.” Rick clicks his tongue at that.
“And that begs the question, why hasn’t he taken both?” He asks with a thoughtful look on his face. “If the Eye Collector were to truly be ashamed of his actions, he would’ve taken them both” Rick finally found what he was looking for, pulling out a photograph and showing it to the other officers.
Lou frowns at the picture, suppressing the urge to turn his head away from the gruesome sight. It was the first victim of the Eye Collector they had found, just 12 years old. And just like the other victims, missing her left eye.
“Are you suggesting they are trophies?” Lou frowns, but Rick shakes his head.
“That’s always the first guess, trophies, mementoes, anything when a body part ends up missing from the rest of the corpse.” Rick explained. “No, these are not trophies, we’ve been misled by the media, the Eye Collector is in fact no collector.”
“Then what is he trying to accomplish?” Lou asks and Rick turns to him.
“He’s turning them into Cyclopes, all these children are from illicit relationships, that’s who he’s targeting.”