The air in the police car became stuffy and a faint moldy odor permeated the interior. I wondered how old the vehicle was and how many times the inside had to be scrubbed clean due to drunks. “Can you maybe turn on the AC?” I asked. ”Or maybe open a window? It’s a little warm in here.”
“Yeah, not a problem,” Josh replied, rolling his window down. His demeanor had softened since I acknowledged who I really was and who I was picking up at the airport.
Guess my dirty laundry had been talked about a lot around the station.
Five months ago, after the eighth nurse turned up dead in Denver, Colorado, I took the plunge and went rogue. I took an extended leave of absence, claiming I needed to take care of a cancer-riddled aunt then requested a long bereavement when she died. Of course, there wasn’t any aunt.
It was eventually exposed. I’m guessing Jessie made a call to rat me out during our divorce. Anyway, my work history file was permanently stained by it. Yet, in all, I didn’t have any choice and it was worth every bit of what I paid.
I went undercover and took up the chase for the Nurse Catcher on my own. Every day for four straight months with no bureaucracy to bulldoze through or finagle.
Flew out to Denver on my own dime, used every bit of information I had on this brutal serial killer, and hunted the wintry streets without backup. I think I got close at some point. He must’ve sensed me somehow and fled the city.