Chapter 13 FRESH EYES
\[ARIA POV\]
Captain Ford asks me to come by her office around nine in the morning.
I stayed awake all night - perched on the edge of the sofa, eyes fixed upward while daylight slowly crept in.
Ethan slipped out before dawn - no farewell, just quiet footsteps fading down the hall.
I take my coffee, head to her room. Tap on the door.
"Come in."
She’s near the window, while a person takes up the seat opposite her desk.
A woman - around thirty-five. Hair dark, tied tight behind her head. Her gaze? Piercing, like she sees right through you.
"Aria, this is Detective Sarah Chen. She's transferring in from Seattle. Specialized in profiling."
Sarah gets up. She reaches forward with her palm open.
"Nice to meet you."
I give it a quick jerk. Yet her hold stays tight.
"You too."
"Detective Chen's here to help with the Origami case," Ford says. "I brought her in because we need fresh eyes. Seven victims and we're nowhere."
I nod.
"Alright," Ford says. "Show her the files. Get her up to speed. Work with Marcus on the latest leads."
"Sure."
I start walking away.
"Aria."
I stop.
"Yeah?"
"You look like hell. When's the last time you slept?"
"I'm fine."
"That's not what I asked."
I don't answer.
Ford sighs.
"Just don't burn out on me. We need you."
"I know."
I walk out.
Sarah follows.
Marcus sits by his desk - munching on a glazed treat. He glances up, spotting us through the room. A pause, then recognition flickers across his face.
"Who's this?"
"Detective Chen. She's helping with the case."
"Great. More people to watch me fail."
Sarah doesn't smile.
"I'm not here to judge. I'm here to help."
Marcus shrugs.
"Fair enough. Let me show you what we got."
We spend the next couple of hours inside the meeting room - laying out documents, snapshots, charts. One after another.
Sarah stays quiet. Yet she watches closely. Jots things down. Then comes sharp queries.
"The birds," she says. "They're all identical?"
"Yeah," Marcus says. "Same folds. Same paper. No fingerprints."
"And no connection between the victims?"
"None that we've found."
"That's not true," Sarah says.
We each turn to stare at her.
"What do you mean?" I ask.
"They're all connected. You just haven't found the connection yet."
"We've looked. There's nothing."
She’s indicating the pictures.
"Seven people. Different ages. Different backgrounds. Different locations. But same method. Same signature. That's not random. He's selecting them deliberately."
"We know that," Marcus says.
"But do you know why?"
One stays quiet. The other doesn't speak either.
Sarah leans back.
"He's not killing out of rage or impulse. This is controlled. Planned. Each victim serves a purpose in whatever story he's telling himself."
"You think it's a story?" I ask.
"I think he sees it that way. The origami birds are chapters. Each death is part of a larger narrative."
My stomach tightens.
"What kind of narrative?"
"That's what we need to figure out."
We take a lunch break. Meanwhile, Marcus heads out for sandwiches. On the other hand, Sarah hangs back in the conference room.
I head to my desk - grab my phone right after.
Text from an unknown number.
Folks call me James Reynolds - reporter by trade. We never met, Detective Kane, but I knew Michael Cordero, close enough to matter. Got some thoughts on what went down, so maybe we grab coffee? Not asking for much, just ten minutes. Truth is, I’ve been digging around since he passed. Something feels off. You’re the one who handled his file, right? So how ‘bout it - free tomorrow afternoon?
I look at the monitor.
Michael Cordero - number four on the list.
I reply: Where’d you find this number?
Three dots appear.
I’m a reporter who digs into stories - just what I do. So, wanna meet up or forget it?
I hesitate.
Okay. Tomorrow. Café near Palmer. Ten in the morning.
See you there.
I secure my phone.
Set it down.
Check out the papers lying around my desk.
Seven victims.
A reporter showing up to chat.
Marcus returns carrying snacks - so we grab a bite right there by the computers. While he unpacks plates, I check my screen between bites.
Sarah joins us.
"I need access to everything," she says. "All the crime scene photos. Autopsy reports. Witness statements. Background checks on every victim."
"You got it," Marcus says.
"And I want to visit the sites. All of them."
"That'll take a few days."
"I have time."
She glances my way.
"You've been on this case from the start. What's your gut telling you?"
I put the sandwich down.
"My gut says he's close. Closer than we think."
"Close how?"
"Like he's watching us. Watching me."
Sarah doesn't blink.
"You think he's targeting you specifically?"
"I don't know. Maybe."
"Has anything unusual happened? Anything personal?"
I wonder about the pen - those cranes too. Or maybe Ethan. Sometimes it's just one thing after another.
"No," I say.
She stares at me - quite a while passes before she blinks.
Then nods.
"Alright. Let's get back to work."
I hang around after hours. While I flip through folders. As I hunt for links.
Sarah headed out close to eight. Meanwhile, Marcus made his way back by nine.
I'm alone now.
I check the pictures of the people again.
Sarah Jennings. Then there’s Rebecca Holt - Lisa Tran pops up next. Michael Cordero follows close behind. Jane Doe shows up outta nowhere. That leaves one person unspoken for - the silent sixth. And finally, Emma makes an entrance.
Seven faces looking right at me.
I wonder what Sarah mentioned.
Every person targeted has a role.
What purpose?
I check Ethan’s profile online - flip past his pictures one by one.
Pause at one from three months back.
He’s in a book shop. Grinning wide. Putting his name on copies.
Someone’s hanging out behind.
I zoom in.
Rebecca Holt.
Victim two.
My fingers turn icy.
I check a different picture.
Back then, it was a café. About eight weeks prior.
Lisa Tran stands behind.
I keep scrolling.
Stop on another.
Sarah Jennings - parked on a wooden seat. Her eyes stuck to the pages. Not looking up, just flipping every few seconds.
They're all there.
In his photos.
A few weeks prior to thtime.alassing.
I can't breathe.
He’s had this in mind for a while.
Watching them.
Selecting them.
I didn't see it at the time.