“And you think it was the same guy who called in the emergency that ended up killing Tim?”
“I do. In my opinion, he’s a serial killer like any other. I think this is a murderer who is so clever that he has found a way not to have to do the actual killing and take responsibility.”
“It’s the perfect murder,” he said
“Exactly,” I said. “Because it doesn’t look like murder. He can sit anywhere in the country and do this. The police usually think it’s a prankster and may try to find the caller, via tracking the number it was called from, but when they can’t find him, they give up. The majority of the time, they don’t even try to find out who called it in since they simply don’t have the resources for such an investigation. They call it an accident or an unfortunate incident, and only the event itself is investigated. Last month, there was a similar event in Utah where a woman was shot in her home because the officer thought she had a gun when it was, in fact, a glittery cell phone. The public demanded that the officer stand trial. He did and was sentenced to ten years in prison. So, it’s not like it’s not taken seriously; they’re just not seeing the real issue. The problem is that the investigators in these cases usually focus their investigation on the event itself. They almost never dig really deep into what started the event, who the caller was because they can’t find him and don’t know that this person is not just a prankster. And they don’t talk to one another across state lines about this. That’s why they don’t realize they have a serial killer on their hands. But they do. He’s a killer who has swatted and killed more than eleven times.”
“But you did. You dug deeper and found a connection between these calls. Why?”
I exhaled and sipped my coffee. “Let’s just say I’m not like most detectives.”
Chapter 18
Liam was back to biting his nails again. I wanted to tell him to stop, that there was barely anything left to bite, but then I remembered I did it myself when I was agitated or even scared. I bit my lip or my nails.
I rose to my feet, then walked to the counter and found a folder. I opened it and pulled out a sheet of paper.
“This is the earliest case I have found so far. I call him victim zero. His name was Peter James. His gaming name was EvilPeterPan, and he had more than six million followers on YouTube. On November 4, 2018, at exactly 8:56 p.m., the emergency operators in New Orleans received a call from a guy who called himself Peter James. He said that he had shot his father in the head and was holding his sister and mother as hostages, that he was armed and going to kill them, that he had poured gasoline all around the house and was going to light them on fire. The police arrived at the scene and shot him on his front porch. It didn’t help that he was African American. Police claimed he was armed, but that was later proven to be wrong by investigators. He’s the earliest one I’ve found so far. But there might be others. I just don’t have enough time in the day to find them.”
“What made you realize that it was the same guy?” Liam asked and leaned forward. “And why did you start looking into it in the first place? I mean, it looked like ordinary police activity, right?”
I paused and took in a deep breath. “I know someone it happened to.”
“Really? Who?”
I pulled out another sheet of paper from my folder. “This one. Victim six.”
“Let me guess. He’s also a gamer, right?”
“That has been the pattern so far, yes. They all stream on Twitch, a live video streaming service that primarily focuses on video game live streaming.”
“Just like Tim,” Liam said. “It was all he ever did.”
“And they’re all celebrities either from YouTube, or they have a famous parent like your son had. Something to make sure the story reaches the news.”
“How did you know him? Victim six?”
I swallowed. “It was a she. KittyWolfGamer was her online name. In real life, she was Stacy. She was also my old neighbor and best friend, Priscilla’s daughter. She was twenty-two when she died.”
“Next-door neighbor here?”
I shook my head. “Back when I lived in D.C. Stacy was killed two months ago, and her mom called me crying the next day and told me everything. I’ve known Stacy since she was eight. I loved that kid. I promised her I’d take a closer look at exactly what happened and why Stacy’s condo was raided. By then, Stacy was still in ICU, and they thought she might survive, but she died three days later. I contacted everyone I knew up there in law enforcement and had every paper and file in the case sent to me. I went through it and just couldn’t believe what had happened. I then started to search through the Internet and found similar stories all over the country. And some of them had more than a lot in common, among them the time of receiving the call.”
“What else? What else do they have in common?” Liam asked.
“Well, as I said, they’re all gamers, which tells me the killer is one himself. And, as I said, they’re all celebrities in some form, enough to make headlines.”
“What else? I have a feeling there’s more?”
“Well…he sort of tells us who will be the next victim. This, I found out later.”
“I see. And that’s how you found out that my Tim would be next?”
I nodded. “Yes. I didn’t know this until his last victim, and that’s why I rushed to tell you. You were the first one I knew beforehand.”
He sighed and slumped his shoulders. “So, it is all my fault. Because I didn’t listen.”
I looked away. I knew it had to be eating the guy up, and I certainly didn’t want to rub salt in an open wound. It had to be killing him. But I guess he was right, even though I couldn’t blame him for not believing me. I was, after all, a stranger, and as a celebrity, he had to have met his share of crazy people.
“So, what is it? How does he tell you?”
Chapter 19
Amal didn’t even realize that she had fallen asleep until she woke up. She blinked a few times when she realized that the lights had been turned on in the cabin, and the flight attendants were walking up and down the aisle, telling people to put their seats up and make sure their seatbelts were fastened.
Are we there already?
Amal looked at her watch. They had only been in the air for an hour. It was a four-hour flight. What was going on? Were they about to enter heavy turbulence?
Amal turned to look at the flight attendants. Their faces were strained. They were smiling and talking in a calming manner, but still, there was an uneasy nervousness behind it. A female flight attendant who walked past her mumbled under her breath. It sounded like a small prayer.
What the heck is this?
Amal had never been keen on flying and hated turbulence like nothing else in this world. She pushed her head back in the seat and closed her eyes to calm herself, mumbling the phrases she knew to be true.
“No plane has ever fallen due to turbulence. It’s just wind and bad weather on the ground. It’s not dangerous. You will not die from this.”
Amal exhaled and opened her eyes again, then met the eyes of the man sitting next to her. He, too, seemed confused. She was trying to smile, but then she spotted something out of the corner of her eye that just about made her heart stop.