[OOC: Rolled for who?]

 PM

[OOC: PMed]

Samson shook his head as if he'd been hypnotized and coming out of the haze, "Work what out now? Miller, I'm opening the drawer. Place your firearm in the receptacle and you'll be returned it when you leave."

Bob put his firearm and sling holster in there as well as a smaller firearm strapped to his ankle before resolving to wring Samson by the neck. He was about to launch into a series of questions about the blood on the floor and the dirt but when he went to the back, he saw a discarded bottle of nail polish in the trashcan. Samson blushed, "I, uh...look, I paint my nails alright? It cheers me up. I spilled the bottle and some of it got on the ground. I left the booth to use the hose outside in the courtyard and tracked dirt in. Please don't tell anyone about me leaving my post!"

Bob went to the section where this evidence would be filed based on case number and shook his head, "You're lucky I'm an enlightened man, Samson. Some of the people I used to work with, well, you probably can guess."

He left the evidence area and collected his firearms, tossing off one last insult for the grief, "Color is hideous on you."

Bob left before he could see Samson's dejected face and muttering to himself that Bob was just some rummy dinosaur.

Bob got back in his car and laid his head on the steering wheel. He wanted to just go to his (thankfully) rent controlled apartment and drink himself to sleep. He couldn't do it though. He had to go back to the scene. Eileen Price weighed heavy on him.

As he drove to the scene, he saw a young woman talking with the patrolman of the year. "Girl shouldn't be in this neighborhood with everything going on," he thought dully before getting a better look at exactly who the girl was.

This night was just bringing all of it to the fore. He beeped the horn twice and both the girl and the patrolman looked over, each of them wearing the same expression for different yet similar reasons.

"Vicky, get in the car."

There might have been more vinegar in his words than he thought so he let it alone, hoping Vicky would come soon. It was a stressful night. It's rare to have a second chance at the one who got away. They usually stay gone. This was more than making up for a black eye. Before the past could be addressed, Eileen needed justice. He needed this chance for redemption, to plug the dam.

There was one wrinkle. Opening up a fifteen year old cold case meant putting a lot of red back on the board for unsolved murders and splashy ones at that. Bob wasn't getting this revived on his own. "Time to play Mom against Dad," he thought to himself as he speed dialed the DA's office.

"Hello. You've reached the Department of Justice switchboard. Please state the nature of your call."

Bob quietly cursed. Apparently his station as liaison did not warrant putting his number straight through. How many gatekeepers would there be before he reached who he wanted to?

"This is Detective Miller calling for DA O'Connor."

There was a silence for what felt a fortnight until a voice with some measure of distaste replied, perhaps for the familiarity or the full moon, "Please hold."

Muzak played as he waited. There was something oddly comforting about the nauseating nothingness of the sound being universal with the DOJ, to the grains of sand that drop in the hourglass while on hold. Another less than pleased voice greeted him, this one he knew. Gladys, daughter to St. Peter for the way she acts. No one shall pass.

"Hey Gladys. It's Bob. Can you put me through to the DA? It's pretty important."

Gladys cleared her throat and put him on hold without a word. Such a charming woman. But perhaps her fate had been sealed when she was named Gladys, a name preordained to be of short temper and a resentment of the world for never getting her piece of the American Dream. There was no hourglass needed. She probably ate one of her candy bars while leaving him hanging but it was quick enough to know. She didn't check.

"I'm so sorry. The DA is on a conference call. Try back at a later time."

She wanted to hang up but wasn't fast enough before Bob got out, "Ms. Juneau! Please let me speak with Ms. Juneau."

Gladys had feigned ignorance but Bob persisted and the resentment was clear, "What exactly can Ms. Juneau provide, as an assistant, that I have not already told you?"

Bob thought to himself, "Infinitely more she can provide, you miserable harpy."

"Nothing of business. It's more of a personal nature. I just wanted to thank her for the lovely gift and card on my birthday. No kids, always on the job---it's a rarity to get one at my age."

He could hear the gears of her eyes rolling but she put him on hold again before returning. She wanted to say anything but what she did in that moment, "Ms. Juneau says she would be---happy---to talk with you and to please hold."

Now it was a waiting game for someone truly busy to give him the keys of the kingdom. As far as his standing with Andrea Juneau went, he felt like she liked him well enough. But then she made everyone feel important. What were his chances?

Andrea had been up early, as was customary for her.  Mornings started with a jog or a trip to the gym, sometimes with her boss, Judith O'Connor, the DA if there was an early spin or yoga class.  This morning it had just been a quick jog around the man-made lake a few blocks from the apartment that she shared with her sister.  After showering and blow-drying her hair she still left the apartment before 6 AM.

DA O'Connor took her coffee black with a hint of Swerve, having dropped sugar when she began her latest diet.  Andrea arrived to the office at 6:55, gave a cheerful hello to Gladys, the receptionist at the front of the DA's office and left the coffee on DA O'Connor's desk.  It would still be hot 5 minutes later when the DA arrived.

Popping back to the front reception Andrea set a small, brown bag on the desk next to Galdys' elbow.  "Butter Croissant.  Still warm, I think.  You are looking well-rested today Gladie. Did you and Peter have dinner together?  How is Sophia?"  Andrea was being generous, Gladys' roller-curled hair was mussed and her lipstick was smeared on one corner.  Peter was her husband and Gladys loved to complain about how little they talked anymore and how he just came home and sat with a beer in front of sports on the TV.  Sophia was their daughter, she had moved to another state.  Gladys' face lit up at the mention of her daughter.

"The old fart drank three beers and ordered pizza because my roast was dry.  But Sophie called me and we had a long talk on the telephone. I miss her so much."  Gladys answered.

"I always have the same trouble with roasts." Andrea offered.  "My mom says to add extra beef broth and a little bit of butter.  Maybe try that next time?  I am glad Sophia is well."  She looked up at the DA walked in and gave Gladys a nod. "Talk to you later."

Andrea clicked open her PDA as she fell into step with the DA.  "Good morning.  You have your first meeting about the Johannessen case at 10:00 AM. The mayor wanted a call and I scheduled that for you at 11:30 and lunch at 1:00 at the bistro around the corner.  If you need me to re-arrange because the Mayor wants to meet for lunch, I can change it to that Club he likes- they will take a last minute call. Conference call at 4:00 on the anti-drug initiative.  I will be getting your dry cleaning sometime today.  Coffee is on your desk."  The DA gave Andrea a  grateful smile and opened her office door.  Andrea did not follow her in, but went to her own small office nearby.

A normal day.  Except by 1:00 Andrea's little sister Kat had still not answered any of Andrea's texts asking how her date had gone the night before.  Andrea had popped home and found the bed unused and while her sister was a grown woman and sometimes had sleep-overs, not hearing from her about it seemed odd.  By 4:00 Andrea was sincerely worried; Kat's phone was rolling straight to voicemail.  Neither her parents, nor her brother nor Kat's best friend Ashley knew where she was.  Andrea took the rest of the day off and filled out a missing person report, but she was sure nothing was being done on it yet- her sister was not a vulnerable adult and she could show up any time; she'd only been gone a few hours.

Andrea was driving to a rather crappy part of town after having picked up the DA's dry cleaning to visit the theater her sister had been going to.  Andrea would personally never ever go some place like that by choice, but it was apparently the only theater in town running a particular indie movie her sister and date, Edward, had wanted to see.  It had been a midnight showing.

When her phone rang the car IDed it at Gladys.  "Hi Gladie. Everything ok?"  She hadn't expected a call, having left for the day, but at the DA's personal assistant work never really ended for the day.

"Oh yes.  I'm fine." Gladys answered, sounding entirely put out.  "That Bob Miller is calling.  Asked for the DA, but she's busy, as you know.  Then asked for you.  He says it personal. You be careful Andrea.  Men like him can't keep their grubby paws or dirty minds from doing horrible things to pretty girls like you."

Andrea laughed.  "It's ok Gladie.  He's always been completely professional with me. You can put the call through to my cell phone since I am out.  I will make sure to report anything I need to with the Title 9 office, but I am sure it's fine and I am happy to talk with him."

When Bob was transferred to Andrea he could hear the ambient noises of a car on speaker as the line connected then Andrea's voice.  At first, her voice was tired or perhaps showing some kind of stress "Detective Miller" she said.  "Always a pleasure to hear from you. What can I help you with?"  Somehow, even when stressed or distracted with driving or life issues, Andrea always seemed to be making all the time in the world for the person she was talking to and it certainly made him or her feel like they were the most important thing in her world at the moment.
This message was last edited by the player at 04:36, Mon 04 Oct 2021.

The Muzak was winning. Bob found himself humming to it in irritation and then fuzz as the line was being connected. Andrea sounded tired but for a moment and then the professional yet amiable slipped into place. It was a skill set he didn't have and it took him a moment to snap out of it, "Right. Sorry to call so late but I have a big ask. And that when you haven't cashed in your chit for the tasteful bottle of bourbon I received along with card. Thank you truly."

He turned his head away to cough and sniffed as he went back on the line, "Scuse me. So, you're going to hear some of this anyway. I'm giving you the full picture so you can see the import. Yorkshire looks to have resurfaced. We're not going to have the benefit of FBI profilers and interdepartmental cooperation with other precincts after that black eye he gave all of us. No one will believe it but I know he's back. He finished the loop he started with Eileen Price and there's six other people missing. Women I should say. IDs and keys were left at the scene and it's looking to be tied into the animal disappearances. My gut instinct is he just happened to see the handiwork of someone else and they're not connected but it could be he's always wanted to add the theatrical element. The IDs were found at the Gemini Theater. I'm actually outside waiting for my niece, god knows what she's doing out this late."

He took a breath before the drop, "DA is gonna have to apply pressure on my people if we want to get ahead of this. Exigent circumstances for multiple warrants, I'm hoping. We have the keys to the houses for all that's holy. You're the rising star. Get her onboard.  And...try to finesse me in there. I don't have to be lead. It would be distracting to have 'Rocky Road' Miller head this. I get that. But I need this."

It was like unburdening at a confessional. All of that out in one burst. He let out a big breath. His knuckles were white at the tight hold he had on the steering wheel. It was true. Andrea was a rising star and hitching herself to Bob with this request was as long a shot as he could see. He wanted to beep for Vicky again, the anxiety mounting but he calmed his nerves with a quick nip of that very bourbon.

The truth was, when Bob rolled up, she had only just started the conversation, and the man was about to answer her question when Bob interrupted.

She recognized the voice, and she didn't like recognizing the voice. A glance to the source of that voice confirmed her suspicion: it was her uncle, Bob. Things weren't good with him, she didn't think, but she wasn't really privy to everything behind that estrangement. The last time they were really close, Vicky was just a wee teenager.

She looked at him for a few seconds and responded: "Hold up, I'm asking about something!"

"As you were saying?" Vicky turned back to the fellow.

"Yeah, uh. Well, I don't know about cat breeds." There was a pause, as Vicky looked on at him like he might be a moron.

After a short time, she followed up by asking: "Well, can I see them? I just really need to know for sure."

He looked over to Bob, obviously thinking on if that would be a good idea, and then he froze up. She looked at Bob next. Then, she looked back at the cop. Finally, he responded: "Uh, I don't think I can. You know, procedurally." He glanced, nervously, at Bob.

Message received: this guy doesn't want to cross Bob Miller. "Well, that's awesome. Thanks for your help."

Victoria took a moment to think on how she could get what she wanted from Bob. What was the best way to emotionally extort access to whatever was going on with these cats that required a god damn detective looking into it? She looked over at the car, and a few moments later she had herself an idea.

The next thing Bob knew, when he finished taking his latest swig of whiskey, she wasn't in the car's light anymore--she was just there by his driver-side car door, without any warning. She started begging at her first opportunity: "Can I ask you a really big favor, Uncle? I need to know if my roommate's cat is dead." She might have been pouting slightly, to try and get Bob's sympathy.

OOC: Sorry for the hold-up, I don't always post over weekends, although I post once or twice a day outside of the weekends most of the time. :)

OOC: Sounds good :)

Bob put the flask away but not fast enough when Vicky had regarded him and dismissed for the moment. It hurt more than he might have thought. He missed his niece. If she knew the number of science fairs and other events he'd been to without her (or her dad) knowing, a restraining order might have been filed. When Dudley "Am I Doing this Right" looked at him however, he glowered and whatever was going on between the two had not gone Vicky's way.

And then just as suddenly, the kid vanished and tapped on his door, asking him what felt to be a ridiculous favor in light of everything. He got out of the car and took his phone with him, cognizant that Andrea was still on the other end and he didn't want to miss her. Hopefully she'll need the time to tabulate whether it's worth putting on galoshes to wade in the mud with Bob Miller.

He tapped Vicky on the tip of her nose like when she was a kid and he told her it would light up like Rudolph before going to the unfortunate soul that was manning the scene, "Has the scene been fully processed? CSI cameras finish with their photos?"

The patrolman looked as though his soul was leaving his body, "The scene is still being processed, sir. Photographers haven't been out yet. They're finishing up processing an assault and battery at Bridgeport. It's going to be fifteen to thirty before they even get here."

Bob wanted to say something but ultimately the stolen moment of bourbon and seeing Vicky had softened his disposition, "Alright. That's, um, that's good work. We might be coming through in a minute so hold tight."

He turned back to Vicky, "Can't believe you're in this crummy neighborhood for a cat. You know what your dad would say? Alright, here's your options. The scene is not pretty. But you're an adult. If you want to see them now, you can. Or! We wait for CSI photogs to come here, take more exhaustive photos and different angles of the staging. Option 2 will give you more visibility and we could chat. Want to maybe go with 2?"

There was a long pause on the other end of the line from Bob. So long that he might have thought she hung up on him, once he realized she hadn't responded.  The lack of speech was filled with the quieter, muffled sounds of deep breathing, like yoga breaths used to calm ones mind. And a few honking horns. Then Bob heard Andrea's GPS telling her to turn right on a street which ran across the city, but crossed blocks from him.

"The Gemini?" her voice finally came across the line. It sounded strange as though she was controlling her throat, straining not to cry or yell. Bob had never heard her sound like that before. "I need you to stay there, please Detective. I am actually about 2 minutes away.  I have to get off the phone now." She hung up without further explanation.

The Yorkshire Rock murderer. Andrea had been only 14 when the murders had happened, but she had no trouble remembering the splashy news media, gruesome photos and failure to find the perpetrator.  She had known Detective Miller had worked the case and hadn't fared well in the aftermath, but she tried not to hold peoples' pasts against them and interacted with anyone by looking at their current interactions with her. She could feel a sense of the terror from that time rising to the surface and gripping her chest.  For months during and after the investigation Andrea and her sister had not been allowed to go anywhere without an adult male escort despite the fact that they lived three hours from the city.  Her parents weren't taking any chances- anyone was a potential killer at that time. Her high school had even hired off-duty cops to patrol and watch over kids.  That was when she had first gotten a cell phone so she could check in with her parents every hour and between every class to let them know she was still alive and where she was supposed to be. All of that had eventually faded; things went back to normal at some point, but those memories surfaced now and she wasn't frightened for herself. All she could think was Where is Kat? Where is my sister?

Someone laid on the horn near her and she snapped back to it, narrowly avoiding ramming her sleek, black sedan into another car. She restarted her yoga breaths, cleanse and calm. Everything will be FINE. Kat is fine, she told herself, though she couldn't get herself to believe that statement.

Two minutes after she hung up, Andrea parallel parked her car on the street close to the cop cars nearby the Gemini theater. Most people felt uncomfortable parking so close to cars with their lights on, so despite the premium on free street parking there were a few open spots. Bob recognized her as soon as she got out. In this neighborhood she was especially hard to miss. She was tall and slender in her black pumps, wearing slacks and a cream silk blouse with a ribbon bow at the collarbone. Her blonde hair was classically arranged in a low chignon over her left shoulder.  From this distance Bob could not see the color of her eyes,  but he could certainly recall the striking one-blue, one-brown detail, however they did appear especially wide giving her a classic look of shock or fear.

Andrea clicked the lock on her car, the telltale beep announcing to everyone that the car was locked, but she didn't look back as she purposefully crossed the street to where Bob was standing with another officer and a young woman, possibly the niece he had mentioned.  "Officer. Miss." She said, giving them both a nod of greeting as she walked up.  It was apparent she wanted to grab Bob by the arm and rip him away, but she was restraining herself.  The fingers wrapped around her purse strap were stark white in contrast.

"Detective Miller.  When you have a moment, I would like a word." she told him, and she stepped away to give them space to finish whatever was taking place and so that she would have his full attention.  While she waited she looked around at the cars parked on the road, looking for her sister's car.

When Bob came over she gave him a thankful half-smile, though she looked on the edge of tears.  "In answer to your question, I will help you fast track this.  With the addition of six new identities, I don't think it will be as much trouble as you are anticipating.  The DA will want to get out ahead of any news media and rumor mills. She wasn't DA when 5 women went missing and turned up..." her voice hitched. "Dead all those years ago, but she does know what it did to the career of the DA who was on at the time."  She paused to collect herself.  Bob had never seen Andrea so shaken in all of the times their paths had crossed.

"Now, I have to ask you something and I need full honesty.  I know that I am just a civilian, but I have to know, Bob." Andrea had never called him by just his given name before and by that Bob knew that this was not a request from the personal assistant of the DA, but from Andrea Juneau.  She took a deep shuddering breath and started. "My sister.  Her name is Kat, Katherine.  She- she came here to a movie last night with a guy friend and she hasn't been responding to any texts or calls and now her phone is off.  I... Bob, you said there were IDs. Was one of them for Katherine Juneau?" The look on her face was pleading as she was practically begging him for an answer and he knew that the answer she truly wanted was "No," but she also wanted the truth.

He heard activity on the other end of the line and held a finger up for Vicky, mouthing the word "Sorry" as he put his ear to the phone. It didn't take long though and he could feel his stomach turn as he waited for Andrea to arrive, "We're gonna have to make it quick, Vicky. There's been a development here and it's not just animals. I can't say more but tonight is a night where I'm not thinking about regs. If you're looking for this cat and continuing to go all corners, you're with me like white on rice."

As Andrea made her way across the street, Bob found himself overwhelmed at her grace amidst this rundown street. It was like watching a doe trample through weeds. Vicky and her both. Roses springing from the cracks in the pavement unbidden and he could only hope they wouldn't be trodden on. That was the reality of this city. Glass teeth and metal limbs ready to feast on anyone walking the streets. And then the quiet returns. The world doesn't mourn.

He walked over and watched her put on a brave face, nodding solemnly at the information and then when he heard her call him by name, he felt a lump in his throat. The hammer hit the nail and he was going through pictures of the evidence logged.

"Eileen Price is the bridge. Four women died back then. She didn't until now. This is a new cycle, which means what we knew before, scant as it was, does not necessarily apply here. Is there any news on the guy? Were you able to contact him? All of the previous victims were alone. A young in shape man would've made your sister a harder target."

He was grasping for straws as he looked to each license and the fourth one stopped him in his tracks, "Andrea, could you take a look at this license? I need you to formally identify it, as your sister, if it is. And I need to know if you owned a kind of fluffy black haired cat named Jinx. Or maybe it's your neighbors cat and you fed it."

 "If it is your sister..." The words came out disbelieving in themselves. How many Katherine Juneaus could there be in the city?

[OOC: You hold Kat's fate in your hands, Andrea. As tenuous a connection as it could be, maybe she could be significant because of her nickname and connected to the cats more closely.]

OOC: the laptop kept going on the fritz every time I went to work on a post, so typing from my phone...

I am going to skip the dialogue colors, and I'll edit the colors in later. Typing in all those brackets would be a pain.

Victoria could smell the alcohol from where she was standing outside the car door. Whiskey, she was pretty sure. Focusing on that, she found herself surprised when Bob tapped her on the nose. She had to press the back of her finger to  the bottom of her nose to stop a sneeze from coming on. She wanted to tell Bob not to treat her like a kid, because she hasn't been one for a long time--but she didn't want to make it all awkward. She was pretty sure she didn't really want to think about the long years since she'd seen Bob, and he probably didn't want to be reminded either.

So she stepped back and watched the ensuing conversation. The poor cop was terrified of Bob. Then, at his moment of greatest fear, Bob relented. Huh.

"I...guess I can go with option two. Um, how are you, Uncle Bob?"

She had barely spoken when Andrea arrived, and suddenly, Vicky did feel like a little kid. A lot of it went in one ear and right out the other, and an expression of mild panic spread over her face. One moment, she was looking at Andrea in shock, the next she was nodding to Bob and repeating his words: "Like white on rice..."

Finally, she interrupted: "Wait, but, but, b-- I thought these were just missing cats, why I'd there a serial killer? Is someone going to hurt my friend?!" There were tears in Vicky's eyes, but something else, too...a resolute intention.

[OOC: Damn. That sucks. Even with functioning stuff, I opt to use the drop down and just type in the pop up box, make any corrections I need after pressing OK. Not sure if that'll feel weird or not to you but it's more seamless for me. "]

Bob rubbed the bridge of his nose in frustration at himself. Of course she wasn't going to just process this without issue. She doesn't live in this world; she lives in the other side of it and by the grace of that thin membrane Bob and Vicky's father Jesse and all of the blue wall create by their work, she would normally never have to have the worm in the apple. Just an astonishing lack of awareness, Bob. Not to mention she was only six when all of this was happening in the past. He spoke gently to her and felt embarrassed as a waft of alcohol accompanied his words but he charged through.

"Vicky, I know this is a shock. But the DA, thanks to Andrea and O'Connor's own interest in this, he will not have the shadows to conduct his sickness in any longer. I'll make sure your campus is put on priority to coordinate with our department for campus security awareness. Your friend will be safe as long as she follows the safety tips we give out during adverse events like this. And the odds are remote. I know it doesn't feel that way but it's true."

It was right now that Bob was grateful didn't have his own children but he realized that wasn't true. He had Vicky standing right here and niece still felt like his heart was walking outside his body. He found a moment of fear but dispelled it with anger instead, tempered by resolute focus.

"I'm going to show you the cats. It's grisly but to help me protect your friend and put something very important to rest, you tell me if any of them are the cat you're looking for. And tell me your friend's name. We're going to put to rest whether the cats are connected or not. Ok? Call her now even if it wakes her. You'll feel better to know she's just fine."

He awkwardly introduced Andrea to Vicky and told them both to wait a moment while he talked to the patrolman.

"You're gonna help me out here, Officer...Richards. My niece, the girl you spoke with, is going to be escorted by me to look at our feline tableau over there. If she recognizes one of the cats, we can rule out if there's direct connection between the cats themselves and the victims with the IDs."

Officer Richards chewed on that a good two minutes or so, "What about protocol?"

There was an edge to Bob's voice, "What about protocol...what do you think, Richards?"

"I think I should have been a gym teacher. Just make it quick. The sergeant is coming out here soon according to the radio and it'll be both our asses surely if he sees what you're doing."

Bob waved Vicky to come over, holding the tape up for her to bend under.

[OOC: I'm sure there's any number of rolls I should be making here. Just let me know.]
This message was last edited by the player at 14:43, Tue 05 Oct 2021.

Andrea swallowed audibly as Detective Miller looked through the photos of the IDs and asked her questions.  "I don't have the number of the guy that Kat was going to the movies with. I just know his name is Eddie and he goes to her school."

When Bob came across the fourth ID and held it out to her, Andrea held his gaze for a moment, postponing the inevitable, then her eyes flicked down and he read the recognition on her face as she choked out a cry and one hand flew to cover her mouth. Then her knees gave out and she stumbled. She only just kept herself from falling into the gutter by grabbing onto Bob's forearm.  "Oh Kat..." she moaned.  A moment later she realized she was holding onto Bob and let go, rebalancing on her heels. She took a shuddering breath and closed her eyes, swaying a bit.  "I would like to see her.  Can I see her please? Don't make me wait to ID her at the morgue." Bob had to explain that there were no bodies, no bodies of people, just cats and tongues and this confused Andrea.

Once she had gotten the details and was able to process it Andrea looked Detective Miller in the eye and stepped closer to him so that she could speak quietly and no one else could hear.  She smelled like honeysuckle and vanilla. "Detective, I think that you are making a grave mistake assuming that the women in these IDs are dead and also that the tongues found with the IDs belong to them.  It is a perfectly reasonable assumption, but procedurally stupid.  I understand that this perpetrator previously caused you a lot of trouble, but you should not let your past and the fact that Ms. Price is one of the identities, throw you off your game. You are speaking to me about warrants when you have all emergency contingency to send as many officers into the residences of these women as you want. We don't know they are dead. We haven't even confirmed they are all missing.  If you have not dispatched officers to each of these addresses and also to the Yorkshire Rock to check for any sign of repeated activity there then I would suggest you do so as soon as possible.  I don't want to tell you how to do your job, but I sincerely think that if you want to be involved in this case you do as much of this as you can before your Sergeant gets here, asks you why you didn't request this action and gets it done himself.  If the DA concludes that any harm could have been prevented by swift action to recover the women identified as possibly in danger here I can not being to stress the pressures you will find yourself facing."  Andrea stepped away.  She didn't look angry, but she did look very purposeful and intensely interested in the outcome of the next minutes.  She could feel the pulse in her neck racing at a high pace from the adrenaline running through her.  If there was any possibility of finding Kat alive, she was going to take it and she was all-in now.  They would not be able to stop her from pursuing this to the end to find out who was messing with her little sister.  "I am going to call the DA now so that she can get ahead of this mess.  I would like to be able to tell her that you are handling things exactly as a First Grade Detective should."

Andrea stepped a few paces away.  She had always been good at getting a hold of herself in a crisis situation if she could take a professional approach, especially as it related to matters of justice.  Right now it was not just Kat, but 5 other women and even Bob, whose career could be on the line, depending on her not having a break down.  So she set those feelings aside and made her call. She could scream and cry in the shower at home and eat three tubs of ice cream after her sister had been found.  Prior to calling, she texted the DA the emergency code so that the DA would pick up no matter what was happening on the other end.

"Your Honor," Andrea started out as Ms. O'Connor picked up the phone.  "I have some important information about a new case, possibly connected to the Yorkshire murders, which you are going to want to get ahead of."  She lowered her voice to fill the older woman in on what was happening and true to her word, she put in a plug for Detective Miller, who was the man on the scene handling things from the beginning.

The smell was pleasant and distracting at first but when Bob heard her level voice calmly leveling him, the romance was gone and he was able to listen calmly as she proceeded to make several good points. He waited for her to finish the call to the DA and then spoke quietly when he approached,

"I'll put aside that you think I'm devoid of sense and mention some things you neglected to or could not have thought to. Firstly, if we take a small tissue sample from you and cross reference it with the tongues, we are on our way to finding out whether any of them belong to your sister. I'm not the greatest at biology but sisters or rather siblings in general are the closest genetic match to one another in the entire world. You'll share more than enough markers to make a conclusion. We also have preserved DNA from Eileen Price because we took hair, blood, everything fifteen years ago. One confirmed tongue won't be persuasive but two will be for a pattern. As for dispatching units to the locations, that is beyond my purview even as the Detective on the scene. My sergeant will be doing that regardless. However, if the DA is breathing down his neck, he can't drag his heels about doing so and trust me when I say that that would happen. I have a vested interest in seeing this case active. My sergeant does not. This is a pile of shit for him and negative stats on the board. As strange as it might seem, it would be less of a hit to the department to drag their heels and let this go cold and something of a draw than to keep their feet to the fire with interested yet contained press and an invigorated DA that wants results, risking red to overall case resolved stats. You're right. These women could be alive. But if he's even remotely keeping to his past MO, only one will be. We didn't have long to construct a profile on him before he vanished and Quantico bailed very early on. The profile we mutually constructed was one of some religious or cultist design. Eileen appeared to be venerated by the dead. It was supposition that she was meant to die that night in a ceremony but as you might say, that's an assumption. Before we could get an expert, pictures got out and "Rocky Road Miller" was born. It wasn't just that I was dragged through the mud. It was that every news outlet reported simultaneously his failure and drove him to ground. We're going to be scrambling to not let the same mistakes occur again."

He was sure that the departmental attitude of lassitude would ring false to Andrea but there was a sad reality that this has all the makings of a lost cause from the get go in terms of the spread of missing women from varying socioeconomic backgrounds, racial make up and other disparate elements that render them all distinct from one another and patternless. The ME would need to report back the rate of decomposition of the tongues to give a time frame of when they were abducted or when they were dispatched. Either way, that was necessary. And then there were the damn animals.

"I need you to tell me about that cat I asked about so we can try to rule out a connection or confirm it. Black fur, fluffy, name is Jinx. That is the cat that held your sister's ID, set of keys and...a tongue. Suffice to say, I'll be searching Eileen Price's apartment and with your permission, keeping as tight a loop as we can, we handle your place as well."

He looked to her expectantly of protest or angles he hasn't covered.

Vicky couldn't immediately respond to Bob, she was still a bit shocked at all of this. Just when she got her tongue again, she was left momentarily with this Andrea person.

So, turning to her, she asked politely, and stupidly: "So, what do you do for a living?"

Not too long after, Bob was back. She nodded and said: "OK, I understand. I'll call her while I'm looking, just make sure she's alright." She paused before telling him the cat's name--she felt like she was outing her roommate as a communist or something. "Uhh, the cat's name is Mr. Engels. She's Alice Baker."

She stepped forward, creeping under the tape into the scene itself.

Victoria's stomach went sour right quick when she saw the cats. Laid out, connected together with fishing wire. They were put together kind of like...a Christmas ornament. And right there, forming part of the tail of the star, was Mr. Engels. (Actually, he was a bit small for the job, especially compared to the tubby fellow just by Mr. Engels, and it gave the whole formation an ugly, asymmetrical shape.)

Vicky breathed in and out hard and slow, forcing herself not to hyperventilate through force of will. She crouched down to look at the words, in blood, all over the ground there. It was a stupid pun.

But it gave her an idea for just a split second, and without thinking she reached forward to nudge open Mr. Engels' mouth with her hand, through cloth. Freezing, she stopped and pulled back her hand. What the hell am I doing?

She stepped back, and pulled out her phone. She put in a call to her friend.

It rang a few times. "Hey, Vicky, 'zat you? What's going on, did you find him?"

"Hey. It's...uh, it's really bad here. The cops are going to get out, like, safety information soon, I just really need you to follow it." She hung up before Alice could respond, because she found herself choking on words.

As she calmed herself, Richards peeked around the corner. "Are you alright?"

"Some privacy, just for a second."

Richards cast a glance back over to Bob and, likely not wanting to offend him somehow, let it pass.

Vicky gave it a second. Then she made a decision, and she went to go check the cats. She was careful not to touch them in any way, unless it seemed like she had to.

None of it made any sense to her, and she was pretty sure she wouldn't be able to figure anything out from this.

"Hey, get away from all that, you almost stepped in the blood. You're gonna get me put on desk duty!" Looking back, she saw who it was, and retreated from the crime scene.

Outside, she caught the tail end of a very intense and very quiet conversation. She thought she could sense some romantic tension, but she was way too young and out of her uncle's league, so she was pretty sure she imagined it.

Stepping forward again, she said first to Bob: "Hey. It's her cat in there, but she's fine right now. I really need to know what happened last time. Were there cats last time? If there were, was there a gap between the cat killing and...I think this person killed a bunch of girls or something, didn't they?"

She paused for a second and said, more simply and more resolutely, to the both of them: "What's going on here?"

Bob tapped the information into his phone's notepad as Vicky spoke. He couldn't register any amusement he felt at the name. He couldn't be an uncle.

When she returned and asked her question, he shook his head with a small measure of satisfaction, though it wasn't conclusive.

"Cats or for that matter...any animal...they weren't at the scene fifteen years ago. Your friend's cat being used indicates---"

He was struggling with the idea of telling her more but relented to some degree.

"You were six when a major case broke. There was a cluster of murders and the victims were gathered amongst the large rock on Yorkshire Beach. They were dubbed the 'Yorkshire Rock' murders. The killer escaped justice. There was evidence found tonight that suggests he may have returned. My gut says the cats are an improvisation. One killer using the set dressing of another, coincidence. The Yorkshire killer applied symmetry with the items he left for us to find. The cats would have belonged to these women if it were his design."

He saw the look in her eyes, the expectation. She was her father's daughter.

"You'll just go off on your own if I don't loop you in, won't you. And then Jesse will be booked for murder. Mine."


Bob's shoulders sagged as if he'd tagged Atlas to spot him holding the world. He sat on the curb near his car and waited to see what Andrea would say to Vicky.

Andrea watched Vicky and her uncle interact.  The way he treated her was more like a daughter and it wasn't beyond Andrea's notice that he was breaking the rules for the both of them.

When Vicky asked Andrea's profession she looked a little surprised. "I work in the DA's office. It is coincidence that I am here tonight, but now that I am, I certainly cannot go home to bed."

She waited while Bob handled Andrea looking at the cats. It was not something she was interested in seeing herself. Had it been the actual women, she would have wanted to see her sister. In fact, until she saw her sister, dead or alive, she knew she would continue to feel the knot she felt bearing down on her abdomen which was anchoring her fear, embarrassment and guilt to her every motion.

When Bob explained why he couldn't rush off that moment in search of the missing women, Andrea's lips tightened to a thin line. "Of course you can have a DNA sample. Though as a civil servant it's in the system already. I'm not as interested in proving the tongues belong to the women on the IDs as much as trying to find them. It's very frustrating to me that you are already treating this like a cold case when this might be the hottest thing you've touched in years." And it very well may burn us all. She blew out a frustrated breath, then blushed as she realized what she had implied. "Hottest case. I meant to say 'case.'" she sighed. "Look. Your boss is not going to be able to sweep this under a rug, but if he is going to drag his feet then you are my only ally in speed here and I know you want to get this guy, or girl, or group of people, but I need you to focus on recovery of these women until we have them. Dead or alive. Because if there's any chance.... Her voice stopped working for a moment. "Please. This is not 15 years ago. It's now. Losing your tongue is not an automatic death sentence and we can't assume that all is lost already." The pleading note in her voice was not for show, she truly hoped he would help her. There was no way that she could talk to the Sergeant like this and the both knew it. In the interaction she'd had with the Sergeant he'd definitely treated her as ornament material; pretty to look at, of no value to him beyond that. The DA, being a woman, also had a rough time getting the Sergeant to cooperate well with her. He was solidly in the old boy's club. So Bob was Andrea's life line. But she was done telling him what she thought he ought to do and straining the relationship of kindness which she had built up over the years so she stepped back, no longer needing to keep the conversation private.

At this point she conceded that she had not answered his questions. She shook her head. "No cat. We had plenty on the farm growing up, but our apartment doesn't allow cats.  Though she loves them. If there was a stray around she might have fed it. And yes, you can search our apartment, though I doubt you will find anything.  If we're all waiting for your Sergeant then I am too. I want to know what happens from here."

Andrea tried to go sit in her car to wait, but the space was too enclosed. So she got back out and stood near the cop cars and police tape. She was drumming her fingers against her elbow. At one point she said to Vicky. "I'm glad that whomever you called is ok." with a little smile.  All the while she was planning. If the Sergeant didn't jump on finding these women and their assailant, she would do something herself. The first place she figured she should go would be the Yorkshire Rock itself.

Bob stood back up. Restlessness was replacing the emotional fatigue and he needed to be sharp as Andrea is smart yet there were gaps in her understanding, "The tongues matching will potentially give us an aspect to his MO. The tongues matching means we have six victims. The tongues not matching means we have double, alive or dead. If we have cause to doubt the link between any piece of evidence, we will have more chaos in this pursuit. If none of the evidence is linked, we have triple the victims and the only thing that indicates is an insatiable, sadistic psychopath. We have nowhere save the Rock to look if the keys don't match the IDs. No, I believe they're all connected and he wants to take us somewhere."

The train of thought was quickly derailed and he found himself laughing despite everything at the intimation. He gently laid his hand on Andrea's shoulder, "It's not cold to me, the trail. It's not a statistic to me. There's a reason besides the drinking I'm not the golden boy anymore. I'm far from a careerist now. That's why we're not waiting for the Sergeant to act. 'Detective Bob Miller has left the scene to escort the DA's assistant home as one of the victims appears to be Katherine Juneau, the assistant's younger sister.' ME Murphy should be coordinating with forensics to determine a time frame of how long the tongues have been separated from their persons, which will determine whether there is cause to treat the trail fresh or if we have to fight the dreaded 48 hour mark."

He didn't keep his hand lingering, letting his hand drop to his side once he'd finished speaking. He turned to Vicky. There were so many things he wanted to talk to her about but it wasn't the time. He finally settled on something, "How's school? And Jesse...how is he?"
This message was last edited by the player at 14:54, Thu 07 Oct 2021.

Vicky listened to Bob's explanation, not calmly but determined to seem calm (and failing, but only just a bit). When he finished, she only nodded.

Then Andrea started talking, and when she said hottest thing, the look of alarm and embarrassment on Vicky's face was evident. It was obvious the implication of that was too much for Vicky to handle. (Inside, she felt a bit vindicated--there really was some kind of tension there, she was pretty sure of it now.)

"So...we're just waiting for your Sergeant, then?" She paused for a second, and grimaced. "He won't recognize me or anything, will he? Should I go sit in your car when he gets here? I don't want you to have to explain why I'm here." There was a second pause, and finally she said: </Coral>"Thanks for letting me come along."</Coral>

She replied to Andrea shortly thereafter: "Thanks. She's really important to me. I hope your sister is fine--or, I hope we can help her if she might not be, or, uh..." She stopped talking there, in order to save herself any further embarrassment.

A little while later, sitting next to Bob on the curb, she sighed. "It's going good. I'm getting a BS in Chemistry. I'm just not really sure what I'm gonna do after I graduate. The job market isn't really good." She held off for a few seconds before continuing. "Dad is really good, I think. We don't talk as much as we used to, because of college. But he's in a good place."

Bob let himself fall into the trap of normalcy when Vicky shared bits of her life, normalcy in any circumstance but now where he was being evasive for a time, stealing minutes from the clock to be in her life, "Pharmaceuticals must always need promising chemists, right? I'm always seeing commercials for some cholesterol medication or antidepressant with side effects that make the condition seem preferable by far."

He found words that he knew he shouldn't have said tumbling out of his mouth, "You ever think about forensics?"

Jesse was adamant, as many police are, that his kid would never touch anything near law enforcement. All things considered, forensics offered insulation from direct dangers but it could take a mental toll. Bob agreed with Jesse. He just, in that moment, found himself pitching the idea as if he were trying to keep the family business going. Working together had a charm to it but he pushed that thought aside with good old fashioned nostalgia.

"You could always revive 'Blue Glue.' Remember that? Other kids were making those fizzy volcanoes and you wanted to revolutionize non-violent pacification methods at the science fair. So you made a glue gun---it worked too well and when you demonstrated it, your teacher couldn't remove her hand from the table. They gave you 3rd and your dad and I stormed the stage. I've never seen a girl's face go so red. Took your mom and aunt to smooth over everything."

Bob laughed the second time that night at the memory and then it subsided into a quiet talk, "I'm glad your dad is doing well."

There wasn't more to say. Neither one could reach out to the other. He broke the awkward silence he was responsible for by answering Vicky about the Sergeant.

"If we wait for my Sergeant, he could assign me to one of the other missing persons houses and we lose our autonomy to conduct this investigation with relative freedom. No, we're going to go to Andrea's and search there first. That will offer some protection to you, Andrea, since your continued presence here is dubiously reasoned at best. If he raises a stink, I can say this was a protective measure. We also avoid having to explain you being here Vicky. And your dad will hopefully hear about none of this. After we look through Andrea's place, we'll go to Eileen Price's apartment. Maybe the Rock. What about school, Vicky?"

There were other considerations that hadn't been brought up yet. Bob knew Vicky had some firearms training because he had taught her. He didn't know about Andrea but he suspected she was no stranger to guns having grown up in the country, "We need to get both of you armed at some point. Andrea, how are firearms monitored for DA investigators? Would you be able to get stock for you and Vicky there? If not, we'll have to make a stop, talk with someone I know."

His forehead had a sheen of sweat. He needed a nip but that would only draw criticism from his partners. Next opportunity he got, he would sneak some. It was hard to tell what was missing in the plan so he said as much, "If I left any gaps, now is a good time to fill them or we can wait until we're at your place, Andrea."

That seemed to cover the bases.

The blood drained from Andrea's face as Detective Miller mentioned the implications behind tongues not matching IDs. Guilt was gnawing her insides. She was supposed to protect her little sister. Her father made her promise. If something happened to Kat, how was Andrea to tell her mother? Would they blame her for letting her sister go to such a rough area of town? And here she was as well, with body parts recovered, wishing all the horror on someone else that was not Kat. Andrea felt so selfish at those wishes, but she couldn't seem to change it, she couldn't wish that the tongue DID belong to her little sister.

She relaxed a tiny fraction when the Detective put his hand on her shoulder and reassured her. She nodded in agreement about leaving and going to her apartment, though she was still pretty sure they wouldn't find anything there.  She also gave a nod to Vicky for the well wishes, but she couldn't bring herself to answer verbally.

Andrea led them closer to the cars as she answered Miller's question about guns. "I don't have access to any guns from the office. I have a rifle at home, under my bed. No hand guns. Do you think we're in immediate danger from this person? I could get something else from Dad, but not tonight... I don't want to call them yet. Or I can buy one, I have a permit, again, not tonight."

She agreed to meet them at her apartment and gave Bob the address before getting in her sedan and driving away from the scene. She drove in a way that would allow them to follow if they wanted. Andrea drove into her underground lot, looking for her sister's car which was not in its spot and went to the front to let the Detective and his neice in. It was perhaps a bit strange that Vicky was coming with, but Andrea didn't have the energy to question it right now.

Andrea and her sister lived in a nicely appointed apartment building with a marble foyer and two keyed doors, but no doorman. The elevator had a sign 'out of order' so Andrea led them up three flights of stairs in her heels. She used a key on a deadbolt and handle and led the two of them into a clean and tidy apartment where she set down a large tote full of work things and her small, designer in purse. Immediately in from the entryway was the large one room area of a kitchen, separated from the rest of the space by an island, a living room with a sectional and TV and a small dining table. Two bedrooms we're on either side of the apartment. Andrea pointed at the bedroom closer to the kitchen. Its door was closed.

"That's Kat's room. That's mine. Fire escape is on my window, if that matters. Do you want me to just stay here? What are you looking for exactly?"

Andrea had moved in when she put her bags down on the kitchen island and she was standing there now with her hands on the edge of the counter. The cabinets on the wall had glass fronts. Drinking and wine glasses could be seen on the first shelf and Andrea found herself wishing she could just pour herself some of the boxed wine her sister kept in the fridge. Her nerves were shot and she needed to relax.

OOC: went with a rifle in the end because that's what night suggested.
This message was last edited by the player at 04:16, Sun 10 Oct 2021.

He tapped his fingers on the roof of Andrea's sedan, "I just think it will prove necessary going forward. We should be safe tonight though. He gains nothing from targeting us now. After all, he wants the press conference."

Bob felt terrible having to go into detail why they wanted the evidence they had to be conclusive. It was the same reason he wasn't letting Vicky out of his sight for the night, despite his reassurance they were safe. The awful has a habit of happening in this city. He wanted to tell Andrea something good, that medical technology has come a long way and a graft could go the distance. And maybe their perpetrator decided to blink with Katherine. If there isn't a match, then his motivations may not strictly be of a logic free occultism. But he could only go off what they had.

Bob followed behind Andrea, every once in awhile checking his rear view mirrors to see if they were being followed. He broke the air of its silence, "Vicky, this probably isn't the time but...I wasn't always like this. It, um, it got bad after being a UC, undercover, and the divorce. I, uh, I lost my moorings. And your dad couldn't bring me out of it. But I have a stack of birthday cards for you and gifts that you're too old for. When we get past this, if you're comfortable, maybe we can keep in touch?"

They pulled in and followed Andrea up and into the apartment.

Bob couldn't wait for that private moment and he took a sip from his flask, a small one he hoped it would be noted, "When it rains, it pours. Part of the reason I wanted to come here first is for you to pack what you need, Andrea. He had a set of your keys. Your locks need to be changed at a minimum but it would be better for you to either get a hotel room or, if you don't mind messy, live the bachelor lifestyle with me during the nights. I have some board games."

He leaned on the kitchen island, "We've become a new animal, ladies. One that does not walk without the others when the sun goes down. Vicky, as unlikely as I believe you are connected to this, Mr. Engels has tied your fate with ours. In the, again unlikely, event that our animal assassin and the Yorkshire murderer are one and the same, you're here for another reason: keeping your roommate safe. We are all going to have to look at our social footprint and look at who we must protect by becoming absent from their lives. I happen to be in the room with mine because I lead a blessed life of solitude."

He took a sharp breath, "Andrea, we are looking for something that could be missing from the apartment. And we are looking for something added. If there's a bullet missing from your ammunition, that's a threat. If there's a lock of hair, proof of life. He will use the access he had to leave a message. So no, I need your help to find anything incongruous. But I'll take a look at Katherine's room on my own first while you pack and check your rifle. It might have been tampered with."

He offered the smallest of smiles to Andrea, "Half a glass would do you good and you will still be in control of your faculties. Granted, you do not have as much practice as I do but in this small moment of respite, I would take relief where you can."

He looked at Vicky and awkwardly offered the same relief given Andrea's receptivity.

Andrea felt a chill run down her back at the thought that a known serial killer had her keys, could have made copies and could, in fact, have been in her apartment.  She looked around the common spaces of her apartment from her vantage point in the kitchen, there were no lurking bodies in the shadows and a police detective was standing between her and most of the rest of her apartment, which she was suddenly very happy for.  She felt her hands begin to shake a bit and she rested them on the tile counter to steady herself.

"Yes. I think not living here until this is solved is a good idea.  I will call my landlord and get the locks changed.  I can afford a few nights at a hotel.  Don't you think it would be a bit... improper... for me to 'crash' at your place, Detective?  Unless you think that it's not safe.  Should I be asking for police protection?  Are you volunteering to be my police protection?"  Her eyes drifted momentarily to the pocket where he had put away his flask and she looked back up at his face then, assessing his sobriety.  She had not seemed to have any attention on it before this moment, or maybe the moment just earlier when he had had a sip.  She waved her hand at the fridge.  "Vicky you are welcome to whatever you may find in there. You know, if you're hungry or thirsty.  I'm not really feeling either right now."

"Before you get busy in Kat's room, can you just check mine and the bathroom to make sure no one is going to jump out at me from behind a curtain?" She asked Detective Miller.  While he did that, she got on the phone with her landlord, explaining that a perpetrator had gotten a set of her keys and that she would need the locks changed as soon as possible.  She also instructed him to give access to any police officers that asked, no need for a warrant, at least until she told him otherwise.

Miller found her bathroom and bedroom to be just as clean and tidy as the rest of the apartment that he had seen.  Her bed was made with a silky blue comforter and her closet full of nice clothing similar to what he had seen her wear in their interactions: luxury fabrics, designer labels - power clothes, not masculine, but certainly elevating.  The window with the fire escape was closed and locked.  There were no other entrances to the apartment.  When he moved on to Kat's room on the other hand, it was like walking into another world, clothes on the floor, text books stacked in apparently random piles on the desk and bedside tables and the bed was not made.  Kat's life was apparently much more chaotic than her older sister's.

Andrea went into her room once she was given the all-clear and she shut her door.  The rifle was under her bed in a locked case and when she pulled it out it was apparently untouched.  Nothing in her room looked out of place to her, but she was finding it hard to concentrate or see things through the filmy glaze of almost-tears that she kept having to blink away.  Andrea started to pack a suitcase and hanging bag with some things that she would need, but ended up sitting on the end of her bed staring at a picture of her and her sister from a city benefit they had attended the year before.  They were standing together with their arms around each other in complimentary dresses, both with huge smiles on their faces and both very much alive.  Kat was about the same height as Andrea, but her hair was short and dark, her eyes set more widely on her face, her nose upturned at the end.  They were very different, but that didn't matter to Andrea.  She loved her sister and the growing loss was beginning to gnaw its way into her heart.

OOC: failed the investigation roll, so Andrea will be no help on that front.
This message was last edited by the player at 04:18, Tue 12 Oct 2021.

"Um. Yeah, there are a lot of people hiring in pharmaceuticals, I'm just not really sure that's what I want to do. It's, uh, exploitative." Vicky felt real silly explaining in the vaguest possible terms her misgivings about that industry, so she clammed up for a second and did not continue on.

Bob mentioning forensics caught her attention, although she did not show it. In fact, she never had, but...it was an option. She would need to switch tracks, probably, but Vicky was pretty damned sure she could manage it.

Her dad would hate that, but he would get over it pretty quickly, she thought.

"Oh, god, don't bring up the Blue Glue. Someone had to call 911 for that teacher to get her hand off the table, that's why they gave me 3rd place. That lady had a vendetta against me the rest of the year." She was totally red in the face, but smiling a little bit at least.

Then the awkward silence hit. "Yeah, he's..." She didn't finish this sentence, talking about her dad. It seemed pretty clear that Bob wasn't doing as well, and she didn't want to go on about it if at all possible.

"I don't have any, uh, handguns or anything like that."

She started listening for a while here, just trying to absorb the goings-on. When Bob started explaining how he...ended up like that, Victoria wasn't sure how to respond  at first. She thought on it and finally said, "Yeah, I'd like to keep in touch."

That was early enough in their trip over. Following Andrea up was tiring. When she got to the apartment, Vicky put in a token effort, but was clearly not as well-practiced as Bob at just searching for stuff, and eventually she found herself on the sidelines. When offered a drink or food, Vicky rejected it with a shake of her head. She was pretty sure she was too anxious to digest anything properly.

She found herself at one side of the apartment, staring down at people walking by outside. She wondered what some of them were doing, what they were up to. She wondered if the safety instructions had been dispersed to the university students yet, and checked her phone.

Well, she hadn't gotten anything about safety instructions yet.