GH 2018 presents The Drakes; #004

The Patterns of Time

(with special thanks to Walter Black)

Inside a briefing room at Berkeley City Police Headquarters

It was Friday, and on Fridays, Robin would spend most of the day at the Berkeley police department. Ever since Emma's abduction and her safe return (which was an earlier storyline in the issues of GH 2018) Robin felt that to help repay the debt of gratitude she owed to the Berkeley PD, she would be a part time consultant.

And in that time, she had actually helped solve a couple crimes by digging into the forensic puzzles that riddled most hard (active) and soft (unsolved) cases.

On this day, the briefing room had its usual attendees; detectives and senior uniformed officers, and as always, leading the meeting, was Captain Amanda Croft. Robin did a head count and found that there were 18 people crammed into the room, with only two of them being women; Robin and Amanda.

Amanda was a plain-clothes detective who had risen up through the ranks and was now in charge of the detective department of the Berkeley P.D.

She originally hailed from Kentucky and had a thick southern accent that went along perfectly with her medium length flat brown hair and her in-your-face demeanor; meaning she was friendly but didn't take shit from anyone; especially men…which was why Robin really liked her…she reminded her of her mother Anna.

There was a bunch of murmuring going on in the room, and when Amanda stepped up to the head of the table behind an old wooden podium, Robin could already guess that the southern firecracker was going to launch an F' word to bring order.

"Alright," Captain Amanda Croft said, with her southern drawl and raised voice, "stop f**kin' around you greasy assholes!"

Robin, thanks to having been around many police officers growing up (her father Robert Scorpio and her mother Anna Devane had each spent time as the Police Commissioner of Port Charles), had never known such a high ranking official who cursed as much as Amanda did, and especially in the current political correct atmosphere the country was existing; it was entertaining at least.

All of the men took their seats; none of them wanting to get on their captain's bad side.

"As you all know," Amanda continued, with a serious look on her face, "our fourth victim (* the woman who was murdered back in the issue "Homeward Bound") was found earlier today (Friday). And just as before; it happened exactly five-weeks after the previous victim's body was found."

Amanda turned back toward the whiteboard behind her. One by one she used a wooden pointer to point at each of the pictures of the four victims; they were arrayed across the top, with the pictures of the four different locations where their bodies had been found beneath the corresponding photo of the victim it went to.

Amanda turned back to face her subordinates.

"Do the f**kin' math people," Amanda said with gritted teeth; she was being very serious. "There are now three dead men and one dead woman on that board behind me. Each… of… them… killed… differently," she enunciated each of those words slowly, "and as of yet this department's inability to get even a single lead makes us, in my humble opinion, look lower than a snake's belly in the water of a wagon's rut."

No one had an idea what that even meant.

One of the uniformed officers asked a question.

"Captain; how can we be sure the murders are even related?" He asked.

Asking Captain Amanda Croft a question was always risky; one never knew her temper level on a given day. Amanda open her eyes wide and glared at the officer; never a good sign.

"Gee, I don't know officer Lakes," Amanda came back with; her words laced in sarcasm. "Maybe it's because this small city has had only five f**kin/ murders in the past 20 weeks. Did you even attempt to do the f**kin' math that I asked you to do when I started this meeting about a minute ago? And all of them, every single one, happened five weeks apart on a Thursday, with the body being found in the morning of the following day," she stared directly at Officer Lakes, "the day after Thursday is Friday," as if educating him on the days of he weeks.

While Amanda continued her briefing, Robin thought back upon what she had just said; and it was correct. A random person (the four victims were unrelated and each had been killed in a different way). Robin had an idea!

"…so," Amanda continued, "Since we know all four victims were unrelated, and each of them killed in different ways at four different locations; that alone must tell us something about our killer." No one replied. "S**t people, think! What kind of person would kill like this?"

Robin blurted out an answer.

"They're crazy," Robin said with a soft voice.

Usually, well always, Robin had never said much at the briefings, being that she was just a consultant; and yes a woman in a room dominated by gruff men. And that was why everyone slowly turned their attention to her.

"Mrs. Drake," Amanda said as she walked over to where Robin was sitting on the far left of the front row of seats by the door, "what did you just say?"

In all the time Robin had known Captain Amanda Croft, the police captain had never cussed at her; not even a damn or a crap had ever been uttered.

"Well," Robin said as she felt the eyes of all the others on her, "everything about each of these cases it totally different, just as you pointed out. Unfortunately, I have known many unbalanced people in my life (*Port Charles seems to be is stuffed with them) and each of them did share one trait; abstract detached logic."

It was a term she had once heard Dr. Kevin Collins used.

"So," Amanda cut in with quickly, "you think our unknown killer is a nut?"

Robin nodded her head.

"I wouldn't… generally… use that label," Robin replied. "But yeah. However," Robin added, "there does seem to be one concrete structure in the killer's mind…"

"I know what it is," a detective sitting next to Robin suddenly said.

He was an African-American man whom Robin didn't know that well; his name was Martin Combs.

"Do tell us," Amanda said, shifting her glance to Martin; and without cussing.

Martin looked at Robin and then back to his captain.

"Time," Detective Martin Combs replied. "So we know that every five weeks the murderer kills someone. What if the killer's unstable mind (he briefly looked at Robin, who then nodded her head) becomes detached from our reality during those five weeks and only resurfaces when reality steps in."

It was a very heady idea, Robin thought to herself; but it had a frightening trajectory.

"If that's the case," Robin continued, again with Amanda's undivided attention, and everyone else's as well, "we need to find the place, outside of reality, where this killer goes to; or in five more weeks…"

Amanda raised her hand and Robin stopped talking; Captain Amanda Croft didn't need to hear the rest; she simply looked back at the whiteboard and the empty space next to victim #4…as if it were waiting for victim #5.

"Shit…" Amanda said softly.

Continued…

This issue featured;

Kimberly McCullough as Robin Scorpio-Drake

Holly Hunter as Captain Amanda Croft

Anthony Mackie as Det. Martin Combs