“Interesting,” Saxon murmured, finding it genuinely so. “Do they know what caused it then?”
“I don’t know,” John replied irritably, reaching for the slide of toast that had just popped up. “I think the sergeant had an idea,” Josh said. “But he didn’t tell me,” he munched thoughtfully. “I think it might have had something to do with that paper he found in the bag.”
He paused for moment, chewing slowly.
“You know,” he said, waving the half-eaten slice of bread in front of him. “There were some papers in the bag in that lady’s car too,” he said. “I just thought they were just her kid’s homework or something.”
He wiped the crumbs off his hands by rubbing them along the front of his shirt.
“I’m going to bed,” he announced. “I’m wiped.”
“Good night,” Saxon offered as his son turned and left the kitchen.
His son said nothing in return, which was not unusual. Saxon watched in silence as his son’s lanky form disappeared into the shadows of the hallway. He heard the sound of John’s door latching closed and turned his attention once more to his breakfast. That is, to his reconstruction of it, as John had eaten nearly half of what he had already prepared once.
He did remember John mentioning part about the snake before, although it had apparently happened only a few days earlier. On nights when his son worked the graveyard shift, though, they rarely saw each one another. When they did, it was usually only a few minutes of brief conversation before John collapsed into bed. This morning was fairly typical, although on most nights John’s night shift patrols were far less eventful.
Saxon pondered what he had heard. A woman was dead; a snake apparently involved in her death. A man had died under suspicious circumstances, ones apparently not involving a snake. Common in both deaths was a gym bag of unspecified description.
So apparently not very memorable in its appearance, Saxon thought.
As far as he was concerned, one gym bag pretty much looked like any other, with the possible exception of it sporting a different athletic team or merchandising logo. Both bags had apparently also contained several sheets of paper. John had apparently not been given a chance to see what they contained.
Saxon mused over these observations as he spread margarine on the freshly toasted bread. Then, picking up the plate and his mug of coffee, he headed back to his computer to see what other news there might be.
#
He checks the public police records and published obituaries. It requires more effort than he would have thought, but he finds what he seeks. Seeing the disorganized state of the local police reports, he begins to believe that he might complete his “project” before he is forced to relocate because they have managed to correlate the evidence enough to suggest his involvement. For now, though, he feels safe.
Two deaths. Any traits in common between them, he knows, will likely be dismissed as coincidence—certainly not enough to warrant any kind of immediate deeper analysis. Even so, he reviews his plan for the next one.
Carefully, he mentally walks through the dependencies and the steps. There are, of course, points during its execution—he smirks silently at the term—where the risk of failure or detection could become too great. He is ready, should it become necessary at those pivotal points, to abandon the plan and try again another time. Doing so might require, he knows, an entirely new plan.
He makes one small adjustment to the timing of one step, but he finds no new flaws in his plan. Satisfied, saves it and begins to print it out. While he waits, he brings up his list once more and studies it.
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