She couldn't cross the yellow tape to see for herself; the police were pretty vigilant in keeping out the morbidly curious, and she'd already been warned once as she tried ducking underneath when she thought no one was looking. It was time to implement a different strategy.
She was cute enough, and she looked old enough, and if she'd learned anything from being a cheerleader, it was how to flirt her way out of anything. All she needed to do was single out the rookie and hope for the best.
"So, like, there was a murder inside, right?" she asked, cocking her head and twirling her hair around her finger.
"That's what I hear - they don't let guys like me inside," he replied, smiling. "You're kinda cute. What's your name?"
Claire was at a loss for pseudonyms, and told him the first name that came to her. "Elle. I'm Elle. So, like, what happened in there?"
"Well, Elle, they think it's the same guy who was working his way up the California coast not too long ago. They think he might have doubled back and then started making his way through Arizona to here."
"Why do you think it's the same guy?" Claire asked, jutting her bottom lip out ever so slightly.
"See, that's the important part. He's got a very unusual way of killing his victims, if you know what I mean."
"I don't know what you mean."
The officer lowered his voice and leaned in close, even taking a chance by putting his hand on her shoulder. "See, he takes their top off. Literally. Makes his victims really flip their lids. Brains everywhere."
Claire's eyes widened dramatically and she gulped, pretending to be surprised and disgusted.
"This one's a little different though, because he really looted the place before moving on. Never done that before. There's a possibility that this here is a copycat killer trying to pass the blame a burglary gone wrong."
Claire doubted it very much that someone would be able to imitate Sylar's modus operandi closely enough based solely on the news reports. She began to wonder what exactly Sylar needed before another hand appeared on her other shoulder.
"Officer, don't you have better things to do than scare young girls?"
The policeman glared and walked away, muttering "Nice to meet you, Elle" as Claire turned to discover her uncle Peter standing behind her.
"They're worried sick about you," he said in lieu of a greeting. "Your parents, my mother, even Nathan..."
"What are you doing here?" she asked. "How did you find me?"
"I wasn't looking for you, I was looking for him."
"Looks like we were both too late for this one," Claire sighed. She followed him as he walked to a rental car parked up the block. "We should do this together, Peter, it'd be safer for you for both of us. 'One of us, one of them,' right?"
"I'm not afraid of him, Claire. I don't have anything he wants anymore." Peter opened the door on the passenger side and gestured for Claire to get in. "I'm taking you home."
Claire crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes. "I've got to find him, Peter. I've got to stop him."
Peter hesitated, caught between his instinct to protect her and his need to stop Sylar. He remembered the first time he'd saved her, and decided that she'd be safer with him. "Fine, you can come with me - for the time being."
