felt that there might be enough between them to make this work. He would make the effort to do everything possible to keep them together for as long as he could. He prayed that Lisa would do the same.
Chapter Six: The Best Laid Plans
Day 4: 7: 20 a.m.
The next morning, Jim made the coffee while Lisa watched the news on television. There had been no more murders, thank the Lord. He didn’t start his shift until 9:00 a.m. and now that he was on the inside, there would probably be an enormous amount of information to get a handle on. He was remarkably ambivalent about his new position. Jim knew that he was a good cop, but he never had ambitions to advance in the department. He also never thought that he would be in a relationship again, but there she stood. Lisa had definitely gotten under his skin. He poured them each a cup of Moroccan blend and turned to bring Lisa hers, only to find her standing directly behind him. It took cat-like reflexes to stop him from spilling the hot brew on his “System of a Down” T-shirt that she was wearing. She took the cup with both hands, sipped it, and leaned against the sink. He took a similar position, inches away.
She tossed the opening volley.
“No murders last night.”
“I know, that’s good.”
“Do you think he’s done?”
Jim shook his head.
“I wish. His pattern always seems to be, commit the murder relatively soon after midnight and then move on. It’s almost as if the day itself was important. If he commits the murder early, it gives him enough time to commit the next one. I would love to think that he was done but…”
Lisa filled in the blanks.
“He’s still got the whole day.”
Jim checked his watch. He wasn’t used to having someone finish all his sentences.
“There’s eighteen hours left.”
They drank their coffee in silence as the KVTM morning news team began airing a video of some confused ex-Mousketeer trying to break into her own home in Malibu. Lisa noticed Jim appeared to be deep in thought.
Lisa broke the silence.
“Maybe he didn’t change. Maybe he has committed the fourth murder, but we haven’t found the body yet.”
Jim shook his head.
“I thought of that. He wants them found; otherwise La Pense would still be in her foyer. You said Milt heard that there was an anonymous tip that brought the cops to the house. It had to be him. He wanted the cops to find the body so that he could keep his streak alive and in chronological order. What I can’t figure out is why?”
“I hate to admit it,” Lisa said, “but I love all those crime scene and behavioral analysis shows on television. I keep trying to put myself in their shoes and think, what would the writers have them say next about our guy. That he’s probably a 30-40 year old white guy who blends into the background of every room he enters? He is obviously intelligent and methodical, but no one takes him seriously.”
Jim looked at her in disbelief.
“What?” she asked. “That’s what they say about everyone.”
Now Jim smiled. He put his cup on the counter and pulled her close. Lisa sat down her cup, looked into his eyes, and straightened his tie.
“You know,” she began, “when you go to work today, you’re going to see all those crime scene and behavioral analysis guys in person.”
He kissed her on the forehead.
“I know.”
“You’re going to see all the evidence.”
“I know.”
“Are you excited?”
“A little. What are your plans for the day?”
“I’ve got to get to the studio and prepare the follow ups on our three victims.”
Lisa turned to the sink and began washing out their cups.
Jim was silent for a moment, staring at the TV. When he turned to speak, Lisa pivoted in his direction and put her arms around his waist.
“Look. I know that this ‘us’ thing, if there is an ‘us’ is new and that you had a life before I came along, because, you know, I had a life, too, and that you’re
Chapter Six: The Best Laid Plans
Day 4: 7: 20 a.m.
The next morning, Jim made the coffee while Lisa watched the news on television. There had been no more murders, thank the Lord. He didn’t start his shift until 9:00 a.m. and now that he was on the inside, there would probably be an enormous amount of information to get a handle on. He was remarkably ambivalent about his new position. Jim knew that he was a good cop, but he never had ambitions to advance in the department. He also never thought that he would be in a relationship again, but there she stood. Lisa had definitely gotten under his skin. He poured them each a cup of Moroccan blend and turned to bring Lisa hers, only to find her standing directly behind him. It took cat-like reflexes to stop him from spilling the hot brew on his “System of a Down” T-shirt that she was wearing. She took the cup with both hands, sipped it, and leaned against the sink. He took a similar position, inches away.
She tossed the opening volley.
“No murders last night.”
“I know, that’s good.”
“Do you think he’s done?”
Jim shook his head.
“I wish. His pattern always seems to be, commit the murder relatively soon after midnight and then move on. It’s almost as if the day itself was important. If he commits the murder early, it gives him enough time to commit the next one. I would love to think that he was done but…”
Lisa filled in the blanks.
“He’s still got the whole day.”
Jim checked his watch. He wasn’t used to having someone finish all his sentences.
“There’s eighteen hours left.”
They drank their coffee in silence as the KVTM morning news team began airing a video of some confused ex-Mousketeer trying to break into her own home in Malibu. Lisa noticed Jim appeared to be deep in thought.
Lisa broke the silence.
“Maybe he didn’t change. Maybe he has committed the fourth murder, but we haven’t found the body yet.”
Jim shook his head.
“I thought of that. He wants them found; otherwise La Pense would still be in her foyer. You said Milt heard that there was an anonymous tip that brought the cops to the house. It had to be him. He wanted the cops to find the body so that he could keep his streak alive and in chronological order. What I can’t figure out is why?”
“I hate to admit it,” Lisa said, “but I love all those crime scene and behavioral analysis shows on television. I keep trying to put myself in their shoes and think, what would the writers have them say next about our guy. That he’s probably a 30-40 year old white guy who blends into the background of every room he enters? He is obviously intelligent and methodical, but no one takes him seriously.”
Jim looked at her in disbelief.
“What?” she asked. “That’s what they say about everyone.”
Now Jim smiled. He put his cup on the counter and pulled her close. Lisa sat down her cup, looked into his eyes, and straightened his tie.
“You know,” she began, “when you go to work today, you’re going to see all those crime scene and behavioral analysis guys in person.”
He kissed her on the forehead.
“I know.”
“You’re going to see all the evidence.”
“I know.”
“Are you excited?”
“A little. What are your plans for the day?”
“I’ve got to get to the studio and prepare the follow ups on our three victims.”
Lisa turned to the sink and began washing out their cups.
Jim was silent for a moment, staring at the TV. When he turned to speak, Lisa pivoted in his direction and put her arms around his waist.
“Look. I know that this ‘us’ thing, if there is an ‘us’ is new and that you had a life before I came along, because, you know, I had a life, too, and that you’re
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