Silvia
The police station reeked of bleach and day-old coffee, making my stomach flip while the officer talked.
I hunched forward on that awful plastic chair, fingers fidgeting against my jeans as his words hit me like bricks.
"Ms. Brown," he stated flatly, arranging papers in a worn folder. "We're looking at victim number four in what appears to be connected killings. Evidence suggests we have a serial predator targeting specific women."
I gaped at him, feeling like someone had sucked all the oxygen from the room.
Everything went fuzzy around the edges, sounds becoming distant.
"Seriously?" The word barely escaped my lips.
His grim nod confirmed it.
A f*****g serial killer?
Breathing became impossible, my throat constricting as panic set in. Questions flooded
