The River Runs Dry by L. A. Shorter Page B

Jess bluntly.
    “Yeah, well people aren't so sure. I mean, do you wanna be next because the cops are too incompetent to find this guy? And if not you, Darcia or someone you care about. Or don't you care?”
    “Of course I care, don't be stupid. I just don't think this sort of thing helps when they're trying to investigate murders in there. You don't have a clue how they're going really, none of us do. We only know what we read about in the press, and they'll stir the pot over anything to make a better story.”
    Lena shook her head and turned back to the action. “That's bullshit. They're sitting in there doing fuck all and we're being killed out here.”
    Screw this. This girl's got no idea how things work, none of these people probably do.
    Jess kept moving, rounding the throng and walking past the Burgess PD where they were all gathered, mindlessly staring and chanting. Jesus Christ this place is turning to turmoil.
    Then a murmur ran through the gathering and boos rang out as Jessie quickly turned her head. Her eyes saw through a gap in the crowd to see the front door of the building open, and the Chief of Police walk out.
    He raised his hands and the crowds began to hush, keen to hear what he had to say.
    “Ladies and gentlemen, I understand your frustration...”
    “Frustration...girls are being murdered,” someone shouted, and the jeers of the crowd started up again.
    “I understand that you're all hurting,” shouted the chief, once again quietening down the crowd, “and I understand that you're all scared, for your families, for your friends, and for yourselves....but I assure you we are doing everything we can to bring this killer to justice.”
    “This butcher, you mean!” shouted the same man. “He's not just killing, Bill, he's mutilating people.”
    “Yes, and I assure you that when we catch him, he will pay for the crimes he has committed.”
    “And when will that be? When another girl is dead? Or maybe two, or three?” The crowd started getting worked up again, their voices rising.
    “All I can say is that we're doing all we can,” the chief repeated. “I can't tell you anything more than that at this time. I know it's hard, but you're going to have to trust us.”
    “Yeah, we trust you , but what about this kid running the investigation. He's too wet for this. Why can't you get a real investigator in? Where's the FBI?”
    “Detective Slade is a fine investigator and he is doing a fine job, but we understand your concerns. This killer, as far as we know so far, hasn't killed across State lines, so is currently within our jurisdiction to bring to justice. If, and when, we need assistance from the FBI, we will ask for it.”
    “Well ask for it,” came the calls from the crowd, “we need all the help we can get.”
    “Now please,” shouted the chief over the clamor, “please go back to your lives and understand that we're doing all we can here. This protest isn't helping, it's draining our resources and taking out attention from the case. If you want this killer caught, help us, don't hinder us.”
    Jessie then watched on as the chief went back inside the building, the two officers shutting the door and standing guard against it.
    He's right. This isn't helping. The press, the people, they're all just getting in the way.
    She began walking again, heading around the corner and down the adjacent street. The loud murmuring began to die out as she moved away, the crowd slowly dispersing but for the more passionate few who remained.
    She was shaking her head and looking back as she went, mumbling to herself a few things about 'letting them do their jobs' and 'you're only making things worse'.
    Then she heard a sudden voice, in reply, coming from the small parking lot at the back of the building.
    Her pulse soared for a brief moment as she turned, the voice close to her, but behind a metal fence.
    “I see you're not so impressed with all that Miss Trent.”
    Her eyes squinted in the sunlight