Chapter 4.
The wind has picked up significantly from before, so Cho, Jane and Lisbon are quick to the scene. This victim was killed in an alley, similar to that of Phillip Harding, the scene is almost identical, the body lying amongst the dirt and rubbish dumped by passers-by; Jane can already see the tuft of fabric on the brick wall. The crime scene unit has placed a protective barrier around the entrance to the alley, so no possible evidence can escape; officers are busy taking pictures of the body when the agents have the opportunity to finally examine the victim first hand. Knowing that this poison isn't contagious, the body has not been removed; alike Harding, this victim has a swollen neck; each blister looks like it is set to burst at any moment. From the frozen look in his eyes, he died a horrible, painful death.
"I take it back," Jane says, coldly, "this killer isn't pretty cool."
"Glad to hear it," Lisbon replies, before stopping a passing office. "who's the victim?"
"James Tuffnull, local estate agent," the young officer informs her, "his wallet was in his pocket."
"Any witnesses?"
He points to the entrance where a few of his fellow officers are interviewing a couple; both look in shock, and every so often, glance back down the alley to see if it is all real.
"Cho," Teresa prompts.
"On it," he replies, and approaches the group.
"Jane," she addresses him, "what's your take on this?"
"He's getting more confident," he surveys the scene, "from the looks of things, this man hasn't been dead long."
"Correct," the ME appears from a group of CSU officers, "this man died at approximately 7.00am," he approaches the two agents and shakes their hands, "Maxwell Johnson," he introduces himself.
"Teresa Lisbon CBI," she responds, "and this is Patrick Jane, our consultant."
"This is an odd case, don't you think?" Jane asks the Medical Examiner.
"It certainly is Mr Jane," he replies, crouching down beside the body, "I managed to have a quick look at the first victim, the cause of death is identical, a single injection to the left side of the neck. There is also a small wound on the back of his head, consistent with the suspect shoving the victim up against the wall quite hard before injecting him."
"The press are going to have a field day with this," Lisbon sighs.
"What ticked this guy off?" Jane thinks out loud.
"What do you mean?" Johnson enquires.
"These attacks are very quick and the killer has no problem overpowering them," he begins, "he kills in an alley, somewhere public, but secluded."
"Hey," Cho interrupts, "you're going to want to hear this. The witnesses saw a man flee from the alley, dressed in all black wearing a mask."
"What kind of mask?" Jane and Lisbon ask in perfect harmony.
"They're being taken to see a sketch artist; their description was a little difficult to understand."
"Does he live nearby?" Jane asks.
"Yeah, just a few blocks away," Cho replies, "I got a look at his driving licence before, I've written it down for you."
"Thanks," Lisbon takes the piece of paper from him and looks at Cho's neat handwriting, "Jane, you coming?"
"Do you mind if I stay here?" he asks.
"Sure, I'll see you later then," Lisbon responds, and then she takes Cho aside, "keep an eye on him will ya?"
Cho nods, before crouching beside Maxwell to get a closer look at the victim.
"Cho, do you mind if I take a look around the next few blocks?" Patrick asks.
"If you want, just don't go too far," Cho dismisses him
The streets are overcrowded now; news has spread quickly of the estate agents death and now everybody wants to know what has happened. From his experience chasing serial killers, he knows that patience is a virtue; they eventually slip up and will reveal themselves to the CBI. A killer such as the one they are chasing is drawn to death; he will inevitably end up close to the scene of his crime, attracted like a magnet to its opposite pole. He scans the crowd, many men of the same height and build as their suspect. He doubts that this man will be in the main group of people; he would be observing from afar, watching the reactions of his crime. Moving away from the crowd, he keeps his head down, he moves away from the hustle and bustle of the morning rush hour and heads down the street. Someone is following him, subtly, he manages to catch a glimpse of a lady walking with her German Shepard. He moves aside to let her past, she thanks him and carries on with her walk. As soon as she is out of sight, someone suddenly grabs him from behind, covers his mouth and nose with a cloth and drags him back into the darkness. After inhaling a sweet odour, his body goes limp.
An hour later, Lisbon returns from speaking to the family, and is greeted by Cho, who has stayed inside the yellow tape to comb through every square inch of the scene.
"How was it?"
"Same reaction, the wife was in shock," Lisbon replies, "but it's the same story, wife beater."
"Another commonality," Cho sighs, "this guy is going after people who abuse their own wives."
"Where's Jane?" Lisbon abruptly changes the subject.
"He went off just after you left, but I told him to stay close," Cho answers, "I completely forgot that he was gone."
"I told you to watch him, you know what he is like," Lisbon retaliates, a little angrier than intended.
Cho pulls out his phone from his pocket and dials Jane's number, no answer. He shakes his head at Lisbon; she immediately heads out of the alley and makes her way up the street. Luckily, many of the crowd have now dispersed, leaving the street pretty much empty.
"Jane!" she calls out to him, but receives the same answer as Cho: nothing.
She continues up the street only stopping to look down each alley for him, in case he is off on one of his little explorations; but every alley is exactly the same as the last: empty.
"Patrick, where the hell are you?"