I leave the library feeling the most solidified I have in a long time.

I need to find a way to tip off the police to where I'm sure they can find Jasmine's body, but how?

Gone are the days of pay phones that used to sprinkle every corner of every city. You could slip into one undetected and place a call that could never be traced back to you.

Now there are cameras everywhere, people's eyes always watching, and waiting for you to do something wrong so that they can spill all of your secrets to the next listening set of ears.

I could go into a store and ask to use their phone to make the call, but this town is too small. Too consumed with the doings of others. Surely as soon as the police tracked the call back to that place, there would be a store clerk ready and willing to tell them all about the strange girl who came in earlier asking to use the phone.

It's too dangerous.

I'm already entirely too close to these cases as it is, my own blood runs with the blood of the original terrorist of this town. Even without the evidences they think they already have on me, my presence here alone would set off their suspicions.

But I made Courtney a promise.

I promised to help Jasmine in the way that I had failed Courtney in that alley.

So I could make a call, or deliver a letter, or try some other anonymous attempts at leading the police in the right direction, but all of them would lead back to me.

In the world we live in now, nothing is truly anonymous.

Big bother is watching.

The line from Orwell's novel 1984 rings through my mind. A book I so loved as a teenager, staying up late to write my essays with enthused earnest for the material.

But now, his words aren't so otherworldly. They no longer ring as a tale of fiction but as the life I'm living right this moment.

No matter how I go about it, the line will inevitably lead back to me. I will look even more guilty in their eyes when they discover I'm the one with the tip.

So that leaves me one option.

I have to do whatever it takes to bring an end to this towns suffering and the only way to do that is to come forward with my suspicions, no matter the cost.

I force my thoughts of doubt out of my mind and I make the short walk towards the police station.

Walking inside again is like being in a fever dream. I was just here, but everything seems so different now. The details from before were like tunnel vision, all of the edges blurred out.

Now I see and hear and smell it all.

Phones ring, filing cabinets slam, furious typing across keyboards.

The walls of the lobby are filled with the photos of past officers either retired or fallen.

Stale coffee permeates the air all around me and all of the sensations almost make me turn around and walk back out again.

But I can't.

The female officer sitting behind the long blue front counter is already eying me.

Big brother is watching.

I school my expression, feeling the gaze of the others in the lobby and the tiny camera set up in the corner, tracking my every move. Watching me for signs of guilt.

I wait for the woman in front of me to finish speaking to the officer behind the counter. She turns to walk away, her eyes red and swollen with hours of shed tears.

I watch her as she goes, a tissue in her hand.

"Can I help you?"

The officer calls back my attention and I step forward to the counter. I start to put my hands up on it but the shaking in my fingers makes me think otherwise of it. Instead I tuck them into my pockets and take a slow shallow breath.

"Is Officer Gillians in today?"

The woman furrows her thick brows for a moment before answering. "He is." She tells me. "Is he expecting you?"

"No." I admit. "But I really need to speak with him."

"And what should I tell him this is regarding?"

"Just tell him Missouri Jacobs is here to see him." I say softly. "He will know what it's about."

I turn away as recognition crosses her face.

I hear her stand and type a few numbers into the pad beside the door before it beeps and clicks open.

Moments later the door to the side of the counter buzzes and opens and Officer Gillians stands in the doorway.

"Come on." He says, annoyed. "I appreciate you saving me the drive out to your place."

I follow behind him, not trying to look at the gun on his hip. He leads me down a dingy hallway and into a large open room scattered with desks and officers on their computers or speaking into the phones.

A few glance up to watch me walk by, but I keep my eyes centered between Gillians shoulder blades.

His desk is towards the back of the room. Like the others there is a small folding chair sitting on the side of each desk and I take that one while he settles into his seat with a huff.

His desk is covered with files, a couple with what looks like coffee stains. Smashed into the back corner is a wedding photo. He stands smiling looking down at a beautiful blonde woman with a flowing lace veil on her head.

"You caused quite the commotion earlier, didn't you?" He says, leaning back in his chair, thumbs tucked into his belt.

"That's not why I'm here." I sigh.

"Oh yeah?" He rolls his eyes. "Well you owe $1,000 in damages."

I balk. "A thousand dollars?" I sit forward in my seat. "Are you joking? It was freaking plastic glass! I could replace that for less than fifty bucks right now at Lowes."

"With the shattered plexiglass, the broken phone, two smashed chairs, a cracked window I think you're getting off pretty easy if you ask me."

"Wait, what?" I grip the side of his desk. "All I did was hit the stupid plastic divider thing." I explain. "I don't know anything about the other stuff."

"So Dean is a liar then?" He scoffs. "I went by there. You made a real mess of the place, and he's seeking reimbursement for the damages."

"I'm telling you, I didn't do any of that!"

"Right." He laughs. "You only broke the one thing before you ran out of there like a bat out of hell."

"Look at me!" I protest, gesturing to my small frame. "Do I really look like someone who can break chairs and windows?"

"I don't know what all you might be capable of, Jacobs." He retorts sourly. "Maybe you were high and that's why you don't remember?"

"I'm not high!" I shout and I feel the others in the room looking over at me. I lower my voice. "Look, I'm telling you the truth. I'm not high. You took what I had, I haven't had anything in days. I was not high today and I didn't do anything but break the plexiglass, which I'm happy to replace."

"It's your word against his, Jacobs." He sighs. "Am I supposed to believe that Dean trashed his own office? Why? To make you look crazy? You seem to handle that part quite well on your own."

I hold my face in my hands and take deep breaths, fighting against the furious pounding of my heart.

I could tell him that Kelsea was there too. That she could tell him that I didn't do any of the other stuff. That this Dean guy really is lying, but what good would it do?

They'd bring her into the station to question and I already know how much she doesn't need that. I know how people will treat her and I can't put her through anymore of my bullshit.

"I'm telling you the truth." I say lowly. "But that's not why I came to see you."

"What do you want, Jacobs?" He asks, putting his elbows on his desk and staring at me. "I've got a mountain of work and I haven't been home for more than a nap in a week with everything popping off again. I don't have time to entertain your crap."

"That's what I want to talk about." I steel myself to keep going. "Someone is copying my father's crimes to a T. The first two bodies where found in the same places my father's first two victims were found." I go on. "Which means I think I know where you can find Jasmine."

Gillians leans far back into his chair again, crossing his arms over his chest tightly.

"Do you think we are stupid?" He asks and I'm affronted by his tone. "Do you really think the police and the fucking FBI hasn't already figured that out? Christ, Jacobs, this is our jobs."

"But the articles all-."

"We are trying not to cause a panic." He snaps, cutting me off. "We can't just go onto every news site and spill all of the information we have for everyone to see. Whoever is doing this," I don't miss the way he narrows his eyes at me. "Doesn't need to know where we are in the investigation. They're watching."

Big brother is watching.

"But, Frank, it's all the exact same."

"Officer Gillians."

"Officer Gillians," I seethe. "It's all connected. It's all the exact same as before."

"We know that!" He snaps at me again. "We've known that from the first body. You're not somehow smarter than the rest of the world, than the people who do this for a living. We see the connections. Most of us on the force have lived through this before. We see what's going on here and I don't need you coming in here trying to tell me how to do my job."

"That's not what I'm doing," I try to argue but he just stares at me, cold and too blinded by my last name to hear anything.

"Let me guess then, Jacobs." He says in a patronizing tone. "You came here to tell me that we need to search the field, right? Because that's where Rebecca Reeves was found, right? So that's where you think Jasmine is."

"Well have you checked?"

I jump as he slaps his hands against the desk. "Of course we have!" He yells at me. "We have had officers posted there since the second body was found. We know what we are doing and you're wasting my time."

They already know?

Of course they do.

I don't know why I'd thought I could be any sort of help here. They're the police, and the FBI. Of course they already know what I know.

I sit back in the chair, feeling like a stupid child getting lectured. Like the idiot I am.

"She isn't there?" I ask softly, needing the confirmation.

"No." He sighs. "She's still missing and every second you sit here, you're waisting precious time that could be the difference between her life or death."

"They look the same." I whisper, waiting to flinch at his outburst I'm sure is coming.

"What are you taking about?"

I meet his eyes. "The girls." I say. "They're the exact ages as the previous victims and he's picking girls who look just like the original girls."

He stares at me for a long moment and then turns, pulling up something on his computer. I watch him closely as he stares at the screen and then opens the folder in front of him.

I don't mean to see it.

The manilla envelope is so safe and unassuming at first glance. The name Linn Pierce scrawled across the top. When he opened the file the first thing I saw was her school photo. Smiling and wearing a green turtle neck. She looked happy and sweet and kind. Just like Madison.

But when my eyes moved down, below where her school photo was attached to the top with a paper clip....

Her crime scene photos.

Her body is naked and pale, blood and deep green and purple marks mar her porcelain skin.

Deep purple rings are left around her neck that is turned at an unnatural angle. The side of her head looks misshapen and wrong. Her black lips are parted and shriveled looking.

While her eyes stare blankly ahead at nothing but the falling snow above her.

I feel bile rise up my throat.

It's one thing hearing about it, having it described to you as a kid, but it's a whole other thing to see the carnage with your own eyes.

To see a body stiff and laid out carelessly.

To look into eyes that no longer see you back.

Gillians notices my stare and slaps the file shut.

"I'll look into it." He says, staring at me.

"Even Jasmine," I say. "She looks so much like Rebecca they could be sisters."

"I said," he says, standing, sliding the chair out behind him. "I will look into it."

"Ok." I mutter, knowing I'm being dismissed.

I stand on shaking legs and follow Gillians through the office and back into the hallway trying to blink Linn Pierce's dead body from my eyes.

Gillians holds the door at the end of the hall open for me and watches me as I pass by him into the lobby.

"Try to stay out of trouble, Jacobs." He says over his shoulder before he slams the door back behind him.

I feel defeated as I push out into the light flurries that cling to my hair.

I look up at the sky, the day is over and the full moon holds full demand over the night now.

I hear people coming up the stairs ahead of me and I duck my head as I walk quickly down them.

"Missy?"

I freeze, turning to look to my left right as Aries's eyes meet mine.

The bright white glow of the moon does something to the shine of his eyes, making them seem to glow.

But then I notice the officer behind him.

The one who is pushing him up the stairs towards the police station.

Aries's hands cinched tightly at his back, the silver handcuffs catching the glint of the moon above us as they move.

"What's going on?" I turn on my heels and peruse them back up the stairs. "Stop!" I shout. "What are you doing?" I grab at the officer's arm but he shakes me off.

"Stay out of this!" He snaps at me, shoving Aries roughly up the final step.

I run ahead and block the door with my body. "Aries, what's going on?"

"I don't know." He says, looking at me with this awful pain in his eyes. He looks scared. He features usually so carefree and light are pulled tightly.

"Get out of the way!" The officer snaps at me, trying to grab at me to remove me from the door.

"No!" I yell back. "Not until you tell me what is going on!" I demand.

The officer let's go of Aries and grabs me tightly by the shoulders. "I said get out of the fucking way!" He snaps.

"Don't touch her!" Aries shouts, using his shoulders to try to separate me from the man's grasp. "Leave her alone!"

The officer sends an elbow flying backwards, connecting with Aries's nose and he stumbles backward, losing his balance.

I watch in horror as his foot slips from the edge of the top stair and with his arms behind his back he tumbles backwards, his body slamming and banging against the hard cold concrete steps.

"Aries!" I scream, shoving at the officer in front of me, and ducking below his arm to run down the stairs where Aries lays at the bottom on his stomach.

The doors of the police station slam open and a dozen or so other officers come running outside.

"Aries," I say again, dropping to my knees beside him and lifting his head gently to face me.

Blood pours from his nose and his face is scratched and swelling even as I look at him.

"I didn't do anything!" He says to me, a little blood running from the corner of his lips. "I swear."

Officers surround us and Aries is yanked from the ground and they encircle him as they take him away, into the police station, the door shutting with finality.

I'm left on the sidewalk with nothing but the light dusting of snow, spattered with little droplets of Aries red blood.