Yesterday's weather might have been more than perfect, but today was nowhere near that.  I didn't know how Florida did it, but overnight the air had turned humid, muggy, and suffocating to an extent.  I was now dreading the walk to work, but I decided if I took a few essentials I could fix myself up in the bathroom once I got there. At least, I felt it was the best I could do, all things considered.

The walk to work, as I had already anticipated, was not peaceful.  Instead, there were bugs, I felt sweaty, and my hair was certainly frizzy now with all the humidity attacking it.  I was not excited to see what I looked like when I arrived at work.  But, I knew that I would have to get there eventually and face myself in a mirror.

When I walked inside Dawn FM, the station was cool.  It was such a relief in comparison to the disgusting outside air.  Grenadine smiled at me when I walked in, the familiar face beginning to become someone that I enjoyed seeing every morning.  After all, she was such a kind woman that I couldn't imagine a nicer person to start my day with.

"And how are you doing on this nice humid Wednesday?" Grenadine asked.

"Oh, it certainly goes.  Harry showed me the bathrooms one time, but can you just point me in the correct direction?"

She nodded, telling me that Mr. Watson wanted to speak with me when I got a chance.  Thanking her, I headed toward the bathroom.  It didn't take long as all for me to set my blazer and purse down on the counter.  I was delighted to see I did not look half as bad as I had been anticipating.  After I grabbed some toilet tissue, I then began to dab my forehead, under my eyes, and above my lip.  Those were the three spots that I felt looked the most sweaty.  It was followed by tossing the tissue out, leaving me to open my bag and reapply some powder to the few spots I had just dabbed. 

I was quick to reapply some antiperspirant as well, knowing that I probably was in the clear but I wanted to be certain.  After that, I spritzed some perfume on my wrists and neck, hoping that I was fully refreshed now.  Slipping on my blazer since I had cooled off, I washed my hands, heading out of the bathroom and toward Mr. Watson's office.  Of course, I had to walk by Harry, though.  It was no surprise.  And, while I would have liked to not make eye contact with the guy, it was truly impossible.  He was so enthralling to look at, that I wasn't sure how anyone sitting on the floor with him behind them could truly work. 

Of course he was animated when he spoke.  He always was.  I had absolutely no idea how he could do it, but it was like I could tell he truly enjoyed his job.  This wasn't something he ever wanted to quit, and I aspired to enjoy my job just as much as he did.  Though, it was obvious when he noticed me, his eyes narrowing briefly before he smirked.  It was a much different reaction than the first day I saw him, but I watched as he sent me a small wave, leaving me to send a small one back before I quickly walked down the hall to Mr. Watson's office.

Knocking on my boss' door, it was a few moments before I heard shuffling, followed by the door being pulled open.  He looked somewhat irritated, but it wasn't long until the look on his face changed to one of excitement, Mr. Watson inviting me into his office. 

"Good morning, Miss Holmes! How are you today?"

"Honestly, I'm doing well aside from how hot it is outside."

He laughed.  "You know, I feel the same way.  At times, Florida is a dream vacation spot.  On days like today, I could not be paid enough to sit outside."

It was exactly how I felt.  Days like yesterday where the weather was truly perfect happened a good amount of times, but not enough to compensate for the days that we had like today.  It was simply insane how one day there could be barely any humidity, and the next I was genuinely drowning in the air that I was breathing in. 

"Come! Have a seat! I'm sorry if I look disheveled in anyway, I am trying to work on a grant for the bigger building."

"Oh, grant writing?" I asked.  "I've done that before for my college.  Do you want me to do it?"

"Oh, I couldn't ask that if you.  It's due next week so I have time."

"I've already finished the newsletter," I told him, taking out the pages from my bag to show him the one that was all finished.  "I don't know exactly how you want to print it, but this was what I drew up."

He took the page front my fingertips, his eyes reading over the material quickly. I knew it wasn't a whole lot, but it was just enough for a first newsletter. Enough to get the listeners interested, and plenty informative to possibly get more listeners at different times of the day. While I knew Dawn FM had one popular personality, I hoped that the newsletter might draw attention to a few other hosts as well.

"This looks wonderful!" he grinned. "I will get this printed immediately so we can start sending them out. We'll talk about it on the air as well to see how many people would be interested."

"I'm glad you like it."

"Like it? I love it. This is better than anything I anticipated, and I had pretty high ambitions for you, Miss Holmes. Thank you so much again."

Nodding, I was nervous in front of him now. I could feel my face burning, but I didn't know what to do. It wasn't like I had chosen for my face to be bright red with the praise, though, I was very pleased that Mr. Watson was happy with all of my hard work. Sure, I had gotten it all together in just a few days, but I was incredibly proud of what I had done.

"Do you have the stuff for the grant?" I asked him.

"Oh, yes!" he nodded, collecting the papers on his desk and grabbing a file folder so he could neatly organize everything. "Okay, so, here is all the paper work. Again, you have until next week to finish it. I know they want all the proper wording and stuff. You're a life saver, Miss Holmes."

"Not a problem," I smiled. "If you have any questions about the newsletter, or any new information for the grant, I'll be upstairs."

"Perfect."

Taking the file folder with me, I began to head out of his office. Walking into the hallway, I realized I would have to walk past Harry again, my eyes focusing on the papers in the file folder so I could act like I was really busy. It would keep me from staring at the very intimidating curly-haired personality, and I wondered if it would frustrate him at that. Making my way upstairs without a glance in Harry's direction, I went to my office, placing the folder on the desk. I decided that while I had been daunted to look in his direction, I could listen to him. Turning on the radio that was already set to Dawn FM, I heard his voice cascade through my office. Shutting the door, I sat at my desk, listening to him speak about the Night Stalker. It was clear he had struck again, and Harry was in a very serious talk about it. Or, he was until he said excuse me, and there was chatter on his side before he began speaking again.

"Well," he started. "I just got word that the family I spoke with today are willing to allow me to discuss a new murder. The victim is twenty-four year-old Hailey Wheeler. She was murdered last night and found this morning, according to Winter Haven Police."

Another murder? Another murder while I had been babysitting, or reading, or at home asleep? The thought was dreadful, and I had no idea what to even think. I was confused, I was nervous, and honestly, I was scared. If she was twenty-four, that was only three years older than I was. That girl had her whole life ahead of her yesterday morning. Now, she would never get the chance to do what she may have wanted.

"I'm getting more information as we speak as it is coming in to the station. Winter Haven Police want to believe that this is the same person who killed Miss Janice Fileman.  We have no actual understanding of who it was, just that the M.O. is the same.  As usual, if any of you have any idea or tips, please call in.  I am always interested in what the audience has to say."

He continued to speak about the new murder for the rest of the morning.  Harry spoke about the victim, her family, what the woman had been doing with her life before she died.  It was sad to hear.  I mean, she sounded like she accomplished so much and still have a lot left to do, but she would never have the chance to do those things now.  Instead, she would be stuck at that same point for the rest of her life.

Something else Harry brought up were possible motives.  Why was someone killing a bunch of females? It wasn't like there had been any guys that had dropped dead.  Instead, it was two, young women.  Both of which were about my age.  I was definitely a little more than frightened as I thought about it now.  After all, I did walk everywhere? What would stop the killer from picking me off the street.  By the time he was finished discussing the possible motives, Harry said that the segment was coming to the end.  He thanked a few people on the air the way he normally did.  And, I found myself hearing him close out the show in his very catchy manner.

"Thank you for listening to Dawn FM, dead or alive every morning at 7a.m."

And just like that, the little music jingle played before it went to a commercial break.  I decided that I needed to focus on my work, so I stood up, walking over to the radio.  Carefully shutting it off, I found myself sitting back down at my seat, beginning to glance over all of the papers that Mr. Watson had allowed me to take.  It appeared to be a bunch of jargon, and I knew that it was probably difficult for Mr. Watson to get what they had been talking about.

As I started to make notes of what the grant company usually gave grants for, I found myself feel more confident about what I would have to write. At first, I had been a little worried, but now it seemed easy. The company was interested in making sure that radio stations flourished. Of course, it was clear that they usually wrote grants for only about a thousand dollars, and we were asking for much more, but hopefully with the amount of listeners we had, it would be easier to ask for more. Plus, I would be sure to word it in a way that they would feel as though they were missing an opportunity if they didn't give us the money.

It was around ten-fifteen when there was a knock at my door. I didn't know who it could be, especially since I had just spoken to Mr. Watson not that long ago. Though, when I called for the person to come in, my eyes immediately focused on the intimidating dark-haired man. He was wearing a light blue button down, the shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His tattoos were again very obvious, my eyes focusing on them for a long moment. Though, I was quickly brought back to his face when he cleared his throat, green eyes not shifting once from me.

"Good morning, doll," he greeted.

"Morning," I nodded.

"Did you hear?" he asked, walking into my office and allowing the door to shut.

"Hear what?"

"There's been another murder."

I had heard. His voice had taken up space in my room less than a quarter of an hour ago. How could I forget that something so horrible had happened? The thought was still playing on in my head, especially since she had been so young. She had been just like me. It hurt to hear, honestly.

"She looks like you again," he stated. "Winter Haven Police enjoy my segment, so they always fill me in with the details. I got a picture faxed to me and well, let's just say she looks a like like Miss Fileman, and you looked a lot like Miss Fileman."

I was scared more than I had been. It wasn't something I wanted to hear. Actually, why was he so insistent on telling me I looked like these two murder victims? Then again, maybe he was saying it so I would be careful. He probably wanted me to know that whoever this murderer was had it out for women who looked like me, were about my age, and the person that was killing them was still out there for sure. Janice Fileman wasn't a one and done, and I should be very scared.

"Are you trying to scare me?" I asked.

"Never," he stated. "I don't want you unaware of what's happening. You're a young woman, and you look like the victims of what seems like a serial killer. I'm looking out for you, Magdalina."

"Okay, well I'm scared."

He shook his head, sitting down in on of the chairs on the other side of my desk. He always made himself comfortable in my office, the curly-haired man confusing to me. Then again, I was also confused because of the way he acted around me. It was like he was trying to get to know me, and watch out for me, but I had no idea why. Then again, I didn't really see him speaking with other people here at the station, so maybe he was hoping to make a friend.

"I don't think you should be scared. I don't know what you usually do in the evenings, but I'm sure if you stay home and mind your business you should be fine."

"I don't know. I mean, I don't go out in the evenings by myself really, but I live alone."

"I say you're fine. Just keep the doors locked, don't go anywhere by yourself past eight, and dont answer the door past the same time unless you know someone is coming over. My friends at the police station say this is the best way to stay safe when something like this happens."

He made good points. They all seemed simple enough, but it eased my nerves to think about the few tips he had given me. I was sure if I followed what he had to say, I would probably be perfectly fine. After all, the odds of someone fully breaking into my house were low. Sure, they were never zero, but I figured that the murderer was probably going to go after women who were out and about at late hours of the night all by themselves.

"Instead of talking about something that terrifies me, why don't you tell me about how drinks with your friends went?"

He chuckled. "My mates are good. We got a little hammered so I am a bit hung over, but nothing I can't handle."

"I might have some medicine," I quickly told him. "Here, let me...."

Without him even answering, I was rummaging through my purse. Trying to find the little pill bottle was difficult, but I soon found it, pulling it out and opening the bottle. Dumping two pills in my hand, he chuckled, holding his hand out over the desk for me to place them in his palm. I did so, Harry saying he'd be back shortly. The man left my office, leaving me alone to work on my grant writing again. Though, he wasn't gone for long, Harry coming back to sit in one of the chairs in front of my desk again.

"Thank you," he stated.

"It's no problem. Thank you for cooking dinner last night and helping me with my friend's kids. I know I could have done it alone, but you made it so much easier."

"I know a different way you could thank me."

For a long moment, I stared at him. I genuinely had no idea what he was implying. The thoughts were clouding my mind the way they normally did. If there was an award for an over thinker, I was almost certain I would win without any tough judging. It wasn't like there weren't others who also were over thinkers, however, I felt like I was one of the only ones who did this and went through so many different possible scenarios so fast.

"And what would that way be?" I asked.

"You could let me take you out," he stated. "I'll take you to the movies this weekend when I know we're both free."

Take me out? Why on earth would he want to take me out? I was confused, to say the least. I mean, it was one thing for him to want to hang out with me, but taking me out implied that he truly wanted to come pick me up, and pay for my ticket, and my popcorn, and my drink. It was all way too much, and I certainly didn't know why he was so interested in becoming close with me. We had known one another all but three days, and I was simply shocked with how he was trying to always win me over, so to speak.

"I would totally love to, but I still have stuff to finish stuff up at my house," I told him.

"What kind of stuff?"

"Oh, you know. Things," I told him.

He stared at me for a long moment, sitting up in the chair and leaning forward. I was looking down at my papers, but I could feel him staring—his eyes were burning into my flesh. While he was not nearly as intimidating after yesterday, I was still a little uneasy around him. It was like he was this high and mighty man, and I was just sitting in the presence of someone that a lot of people dreamed of meeting. Something about a famous man really put the pressure on, and I didn't like it much.

"I'm not playing games with you. Tell me what you're doing, doll," he stated, his voice lower now.

I was surprised. His tone sounded impatient and as if he was genuinely not one for riddles. Of course, I was only saying those things because I didn't want him to come over. My house was truly in shambles. There were boxes everywhere, things were broken. The last thing I wanted was to let this man into my cold, barely moved in home. It was embarrassing how little was pieced together. And, while I didn't want to tell him what I was doing, I figured that was better than him becoming even more impatient.

"I just have to get a bookshelf built, and I need to fix a lightbulb. Oh, and one of my cabinets are coming off the hinges."

He chuckled then, and I had no idea why or how he could go from one extreme to the next. It was like he could quickly switch moods, whereas I was nowhere near as talented to do so. Then again, there was a lot that I was sure Harry could do and I couldn't. Though, I wasn't exactly sure as to why I was comparing myself to someone who was very different from me. After all, I was almost certain none of our life aspects matched up. But, maybe that was why it was so easy to talk to him.

"You know, I happen to be very crafty," he told me. "I could get those bookshelves built, and fix that cabinet no problem. I have a woodshop in my garage, actually."

"Oh, do you?" I asked.

"Yes! So it's done then. I'll be at yours on Saturday in the morning."

"Oh, Harry, no."

"The only thing I want to hear from you is, 'Oh, Harry, yes,'" he stated, getting up from his seat before I could truly fight back.

"I don't think you have to do all that," I told him.

"I know I don't. A woman should be able to do a man's work, but she should never have to. We'll talk more tomorrow about what I might need to bring over. I have some errands I must attend to. Have a lovely day, doll."

And just like that he was out of my office.  Of course, I was used to him coming and going, but I had no idea why he was so insistent when it came to helping me.  It was like he needed to, and while I appreciated the gestures, they just didn't always make sense.  Sighing softly to myself, I continued to work on the grant writing, praying that I would be able to get everything situated so that we would get the grant we were asking for.