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I step onto her keycard which I haven't bent to pick up yet, covering it with my foot quickly before handing it back to her. “I'm just gonna check to see there's nothing on the floor,” I lower myself, using my free hand to quickly grab the keycard and place it away from view, slipping it into my blazer pocket.

“You're a lifesaver, Damien, thank you,” Jessica says and I nod my head.

We all go back to watching what's taking place and I use this as an opportunity to slip away.

A few hands with some of the men and fellow agents slow me down on my way out. Out there, the hallway is empty, nothing but my footsteps echoing off the walls as I approach her office. The keycard slips into the lock perfectly and I make my way inside.

I head over to the grey metallic filing cabinet first, using the key attached to the lock to unlock it, the hinges whine as I pull it all the way out.

“…1980, 79…75…74—1972, here you are,” I mutter to myself when I find what I came here to do.

The folder is upwards, as I place it onto the desk and start to search through it.

As I comb through the sheets of paper, things that I have concluded don’t add up with the information within this folder. For starters none of the agents from the year of 1972 have gone to the city where the first victim was killed out of Seraphin Bay. Apart from Spencer Porter and another man who decided not to pursue a life as a federal agent, all of the agents are women.

I look through the amount of students that were supposed to have graduated.

Thirty agents

If thirty agents have graduated then why does the file only seem to document twenty nine agents? This doesn’t make sense. Unless… someone has forged this, and removed their name from admission archives. But that level of skill takes months, or even years of planning.

He did this.

The killer.

I fish my phone out of my pocket, snapping pictures of the archives before placing it back into the folder and into the filing cabinet.

This case just gets more and more complicated and every time we take a step forward, he’s already four steps ahead.

117

Damien

Play - Glass Eyes by Radiohead

Please don’t leave

I wait until I’m outside then call Kyle. The fundraiser is still wrapping up behind me. People are beginning to leave the building and move toward the parking lot, talking in small groups.

I stay near the side entrance, where it’s quieter, and lit a cigarette while I dial his number.

“You’re calling again,” Kyle says. “Did you find something new?”

“I went into the physical archives, and checked the registry myself,” I replied quickly.

“Is that allowed?”

I take a long drag of the cigarette and continue, “It wasn’t exactly authorized.”

He sighs. “What did you find?”

“There are thirty expected affiliations for that graduating class, right,” I reply looking around. “I only found twenty-nine.”

“You’re sure about that?” He asks, confused.

“Positive. I checked twice. The physical records match the digital ones.”

“So one is missing.”