Such a huge thank-you to everyone who's still reading, and especially to everyone who's taken the time to review... reading your thoughts and comments as you read the story means a ton. Thanks. :)
Boleyn and Elainhe, you rock.

Chapter 12

Lindsay looked at Joe Park through the one-way glass. He was seated in one of the interrogation rooms, his hands cuffed and folded on the table in front of him. He didn't move, except for the rhythmic rise and fall of his shoulders. But something about him now, alone in this room, sent shivers up Lindsay's spine. He stared at the glass, as though he knew she was standing behind it. His eyes were deep grey, filled with hate and rage. They were empty, soulless. His long hair hung down over his forehead and ears. His cheeks were sunken and wrinkled, with no colour or life. And his lips were thin lines, parched and chapped.

"Hey," said Danny from behind her, causing her to jump. "It's okay, just me." He smiled at her, and she let out a small laugh.

"What'd you find?"

"The partial print we found at Natalie Dumont's matches this guy's thumb. We found a blade in the trunk of his car that Sid said could have been used to carve the numbers into the bodies, though he couldn't be sure. The knife had traces of blood on it, but not enough for a sample – he cleaned it with bleach. There was no gun, though. We're going to need to get something from this guy to close this case."

Lindsay nodded, turning her attention back to Park. "Let's get this son of a bitch."

"Mr. Park," said Danny, sitting down opposite Park, Lindsay taking the seat beside him.

"You got nothing on me," he said, peering at Danny through the hair over his eyes.

"That's not true," replied Danny, opening the case file. "See this? This is your print at the apartment of Natalie Dumont. You made a delivery to her apartment three days before she was killed."

"So what?"

Lindsay pulled out pictures of the three victims.

"First victim. Emma Mezzolo. Killed two months ago, two days after you were at her house. Second victim, Michelle Gregor, killed three days after you delivered to her apartment. And Natalie Dumont, she's actually the fourth, killed as Detective Messer just said, three days after you were there too."

Park pulled the pictures towards him, looking at each intently. Admiring his work.

Danny leaned forward, reading for the photos, but Park stopped him. He looked at Danny through the top of his eyes, a grin forming on his paper-thin lips.

Park sat back in his chair, licking his lips and lifting up the picture of Michelle Gregor. "How long did it take you to find them?"

"Excuse me?" said Danny, grabbing the picture out of Park's hand and placing it with the others back in the folder.

"How long were they dead until you found them? Three days? Four? A week? Two?"

"Why does that matter?" asked Lindsay, clenching one hand in a fist underneath the table.

"You seem like a nice woman," said Park, leaning in towards Lindsay. "You're pretty, you're smart. One might say you had the whole package – looks, job," he glanced at Danny, "the guy… but tell me. What if you disappeared? Would anyone notice?"

"Listen here, you—" started Danny, standing up.

"No, Danny, it's okay, I got this," said Lindsay, reaching for Danny to pull him down, but not taking her eyes off of Park. Danny sat back down beside her; she could feel his eyes on her. "What are you trying to prove?"

"You didn't answer my question, pretty lady." Park smiled, his yellow teeth visible from behind his greasy grin.

Lindsay felt Danny tense beside her. "Last time I checked, I was the cop here, which means that I get to ask the questions." She sat up straight and leaned towards Park. "What are you trying to prove with this? Why these girls?"

Park looked over at Danny, then back to Lindsay. He lifted up his arms, pushed his hair out of his face, and drew a breath. "I proved a point," he said simply.

"What point would that be?" spat Danny. Lindsay put a hand on his arm, knowing he was close to leaping across the table and strangling this guy himself.

"You haven't found the third one yet, have you."

"We will," said Lindsay.

"But no one's phoned her in. No one's filed a missing persons report, called in a body, nothing. You'll find her because you have my dispatch logs, and when you contact her family, they'll have no idea she was even missing, let alone dead." He stated it as straight fact, smiling as he explained it. "People think that their friends, their families, that people care. Little do they know that people are so wrapped up in their own lives, so focused on their personal bubbles, that they don't even notice when their supposed 'friends' go missing. As for me? I simply brought it to their attention."

"You sick son of a—"

"Danny," Lindsay said sharply, tightening her grip on his arm as he knocked his chair backwards behind him. She looked into his eyes, startled by the intensity in his expression. "Wait outside, Danny," she said softly.

"Lindsay, I'm not about to—"

"Danny, I said, wait outside," she repeated, more firmly this time. Danny looked from Lindsay to Park, and back to Lindsay, wanting to argue, but hesitated to do so in front of Park. It only took him a few strides to reach the door, which he purposefully slammed shut behind him.

"Pretty boy's got a temper," said Park, grinning.

"Don't think I did that for you," Lindsay shot back, leaning towards Park. "I'd let Pretty Boy strangle you if it were my choice."

The expression on Park's face changed from amusement to anger. Lindsay stood up, leaning over the table towards him.

"Your point? You think that proved a point? Murdering four women, numbering them, to simply prove a point?"

"It worked, didn't it? And I would have had a fifth one too, that blonde chick, if you guys hadn't shown up," said Park, raising his voice. "Those girls, they thought they had it all, that they were loved. That first one – Emma, you said her name was? – she was going on and on and on about how much she loved her job as she signed her credit card receipt. Told me she didn't like weekends, because she missed the kids. Kids! She was placing her life with kids!" He laughed. "It was pathetic!"

"And that was reason to kill her?"

"I'll bet all her coworkers were at her funeral. The same people who never bothered to check on her on weekends, or call her after work. I'm sure they were all there crying, not realizing what role they all played in her death."

"The only person who played a role in her death was you," said Lindsay though gritted teeth. "These women are dead because of you. No one else."

"The others were just as bad," continued Park, dismissing Lindsay's words. "Smiling as they told me their sad stories, visiting people they thought cared about them, like the one who was going to surprise her boyfriend. Total crap, that was. She cared about him soooooo much," he mocked, "but he didn't notice she was gone, did he." Park laughed at the thought. Lindsay's blood ran cold.

"Those women did nothing wrong," she said slowly, resisting the urge to jump across the table and strangle him with her bare hands. "Those women died at your hand, no one else's." She turned to the guard in the room. "We're done here."

"You keep telling yourself that, pretty lady," called Park behind her as she slammed the door to the interrogation room behind her, and fell back against it, tears stinging the backs of her eyes as Park yelled through the door. "You keep on pretending that the people around you give a shit!"