A Hot Day Down South…the rewrite goes on…unedited…

An hour later, Tomas entered the records cage. He seemed worn out, if not a bit frazzled. He ran a hand through his salt and pepper hair and sat on a box of records that was piled on the floor.

“We had to get a doctor called in to sedate her. She’s passed out in her cell. Doc said she would sleep most of the night.”

“Mm-hmm,” Konan muttered.

 Tomas looked at him and shook his head. To Tomas, Konan showed little emotion or sympathy for the victim or her family. He sighed and grimaced, and then asked, “Do you think Waterson or Crump killed the girl?”

“No. Their records show that they have a tendency for violence and rape, but the killer of Amber Wainwright and Daniels is smart. They quit killing for almost a decade and started back with a different M.O. The killer is intelligent. Waterson and Crump don’t fit in that category.”

Tomas nodded. “Do you have any suspects?”

“No. I planned to take my original case notes home, but I can’t find them anywhere in here. We should know something soon about Daniels.”

“I hope. Everyone liked her. You must have been her hero. She said you had a nose like a bloodhound for murder. I am glad you agreed to consult with us.”

“They didn’t give me much choice, Tomas. It was this or jail. I appreciate the sentiment though.”

“Did you really punch Tia Mathers in the throat at the Christmas party?”

“Yeah, I hit her.”

“Wow. Do you suspect the killer is a male, or is it one of those rare female killer types?”

“I don’t know. I suppose we will see.”

“Yeah, I reckon we will. Well, I will let you get back to it.”

“Oh, Tomas.”

“Yeah.”

“Inform the guards to put Daisy on suicide watch. She is going to be livid when she comes to.”

“Yeah, okay. I will tell them.”

“Alright, thanks.”

“You bet.”

Konan made one more pass through the cage in search of his old notes. “Where did they wander off to?” The file from his last case was nowhere to be found. Konan walked down the hall to the office of the IT guy, Ashton Fulton. He hadn’t left for the day. Konan knocked on the door and walked in. Ashton stood behind the counter, shutting down lights.

“We’re closed.”

“Well, open back up because I have questions.”

“They can wait until tomorrow.”

Konan gripped Ashton’s shoulder and spun him around. Fulton put his hands up and backed away. Ashton’s stringy brown hair blocked his eyes, so he flipped it to the side and glared at Konan. Konan met his glare and stepped toward the rail thin technician.

“Whoa, guy!”

“A 15-year-old girl is dead, and I have another murder that is possibly connected to it. Your PlayStation can wait.”

“Okay, okay. What do you want?”

“Run a search for Case File #3695.”

“You can run a-“

Konan flipped out his knife and stared into Ashton’s eyes. Ashton typed in the case file number, while Konan cleaned his fingernails with the knife while he waited.

“There is no file #3695.”

“Yeah, that’s what I was afraid of.”

“You knew there wasn’t a case file.”

“Yeah, I searched for it before I came down here. There used to be a file, but now it has vanished into the abyss of cyberspace.”

“You mean someone deleted it.”

“That’s what I mean, yes.”

“Okay, can I go home now?”

“Sure, if you will do me one last favor.”

“Sure, whatever man.”

“I want you to run a recovery of the drives. I want everything from the past decade that got deleted from the hard drive.”

“That could take a while.”

“Then, you better get started.”

Without another word, Konan walked out of the IT shop and went home. It was time to think. “Someone erased the file and nailed two victims to the floor. There are too many threads and no answers.”

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