I got to the office to pick up a few things to keep me occupied and the officers gave me a round of applause. I bowed out of respect. The FBI gave me the look of death as they stared at me with contempt. I was told to rest and recuperate. Some asked me if I got the flowers that they had sent me. A relative of one of the victims reminded me that I have an appointment with the Merman. I said that I am currently recuperating from a gunshot wound. The woman said that she would like closure and I am possibly one who can do it. I asked her, "How so?" The FBI had to ruin the moment by mentioning that my uncle is the Toymaker. To which the nearest officer reminded him that I am the reason he even got the prison sentence and I did everything possible to rescue his last victim. So I am nothing like the monster if anything I am a good person.
The woman was surprised, "You are that little girl from the news. The stubborn young girl who stood up to that monster. I don't think he was your family dear. He may have been adopted. Don't worry we don't hold it against you for his crimes considering how you risked life and limb for that girl." She turned to the FBI and said, "Shame on you for slandering her after her trauma." I told the lady, "I have a doctor's appointment in twenty minutes. I am planning to go and talk some sense into that creep afterwards." The woman had no objections while the FBI said that they need more time. The woman said, "Five years we have listened to your excuses. Now someone else will give it a go. Whatever ego you are trying to inflate please deflate it because you're attitude is choking the life out of my family."
I walked into the prison and saw the inmates stare through the bars as I was escorted to the cage in question. A few extended their hands as though they wanted to feel human contact. Others did cat calls and other derogatory noises. The warden took me to the end of the corridor and then I had to take a flight of stairs to see a row of prison cells with thick glass replacing the bars. I was taken to the one in the last row and the man was on his hands and knees drawing. He had drawn all sorts of stuff. The warden made it clear that he is here because he confessed to committing the murders but the Psychological Evaluation dictates that he is innocent. Which means he is likely to be a cover up scapegoat for the actual killer. The million dollar question is who is this mystery person? Why are these people the target? Conspiracy? Vengeance? Justice? What did these people do to deserve this? How many are there and how to stop it? More importantly. How to catch him.
The cell wasn't brightly lit but it gave me a sense of what he looked like. The man was lean built, had tattoos all over his forearms, his blonde hair was tied to a ponytail and he was humming. I sat down and he took a good look at me and threw away the charcoal. It was as though I was his entertainment. He had a calm smile and I asked him, "What fresh hell did you escape from? Did you find a sense of reprieve here? You are so calm and relaxed. Clearly you walked away from something." He grinned, "Take one to know one. Who are you running from and what service can I provide for you?" He came to the light and I got to see his face. The man had a rectangular face, chiseled cheekbones, a nose that is neither narrow nor broad, almond shaped eyes, milk chocolate colored iris and dimples that appeared with his smile. He asked me about my occupation and I told him bluntly, "I used to be a photographer, then a painter but these days I am a homicide detective." His eyebrows fused, "Why the change of occupations?" I lowered my head, "I lost my family in an accident. The job helps me cope with the pain." He asked me, "Who did you lose?" I looked him in the eye, "My twin sons. Three years old. They suffered from Cystic fibrosis. They had lung issues." He gave me a look of sadness as he expressed the loss of his daughter after a messy divorce.
I picked up my phone and showed him a video and his expression changed. He realized that I was being honest. He sat down and took a good look at me. It looked like he couldn't decide whether to talk or shut up. In the end he chose to shut up. He asked me about the family of his victims. He said that he wants to relive the last moments of their lives but he wants to experience the suffering of their families more. He said that denying them closure gave him a sense of purpose. Their reaction to his answer has always put a smile on his face. He knows that the killing will go on but he won't assist them in stopping it. He believes that these deaths have a particular purpose. Stopping it would potentially rip the fabric of society. I asked him if this was vigilante justice or just egotistical. He said that I won't understand the process because in my mind these people belong with their families and have dinner and merriments. I got bored of him pleasuring himself so I wished him a good day as I walked away. He called out to me, "You didn't ask me" I chuckled, "I don't need you. I don't need you to tell me anything. Your face has already answered my question. Have a nice day" His face turned to panic as he started asking me pointed questions. I ignored him as I walked back to my car. I made one request to the warden. Monitor and record his phone calls and patch it to me. The man promised to send any and all pertinent information my way first.
The ride home was boring but I managed to reach home safe and sound. I sat down to sketch. After a few strokes I checked the recording from the bugged glasses. I got to see that he had left clues in some of the sketches. The drawings in question were more detail oriented while the others were more of a blur. Some of the drawings had passion while the others were drawing depicting his rage and his frustration. A few were coy while even fewer were joy. One picture caught my eye. It was the depiction of a ballerina. I can assume it was his daughter. The drawing was definitely done with care. Every curve was done with expert precision. From the dimple on her cheeks to the beauty mark on her face to the wisps of hair escape her tight bun. These loose strands that slowly cascades down her cheeks. He had spent some serious time sketching her. She could be his ex-girlfriend or a crush. Either he could be using it as a distraction or as a conversation starter. My money is on the latter than the former.
I got down to have dinner and I got a collect call from prison. I chose to listen and it was the warden. He said that what's his name asking for me. He said that he wants to talk to me. He requested that the FBI be denied the right to question him. He was wondering if I could come over. I said that I will be there the next day. The man said the Merman will be in the yard. He is getting it in exchange for a favor. He will tell the police the location of another victim. The man is making a deal right now and one of his requests was to make me amongst the approved list of visitors. The police chief already said that she approves of my visit. Merman wanted to say a few words. I was told to wait a minute before as he is summoned to converse with me. I took a breath and was counting the crease on my favorite dress. I had forty two when I heard glass shatter and a loud bang followed by screams. I asked what was going on and the response was dial tone. Someone hung up on me. I called the prison for answers and all I got was a recorded message that kept saying that the number I have dialed is busy so please try again later. I called the chief and I was sent straight to voicemail. What is going on? I got a message from the FBI. "Your services are not needed. So rest well and let us deal with the criminal masterminds while you go after overdue parking tickets and lost wallet. Have a great recovery." I was livid, "Well you can kiss my..." I heard the door open and I quickly tossed my phone towards the bed and opened my sock drawer. It was DD coming to check in on me.