Autopsy of a Mind

She shook her head. "No, this was specifications on the offices and their names. At the time, we had weird office names for each person and no placards. So, if someone hadn't been inside, they wouldn't know."

I recalled the strange words in the letter and nodded, finally understanding. I had thought it was part of the style he was writing in, but now it made sense.

"Did you consider it being one of the people who came to tour the station or a guest?" I asked. 

Her eyes widened. "I never thought of it that way…" she trailed off. 

"Around that time, what was the news that was most spoken of?" I asked. 

She rubbed her chin. "It was all about the BTS Killer. We were analyzing every millimeter of the information out there. We had whole segments getting answers from police and others." And then she gasped. "Could it be one of the panelists in those discussions? Someone who wanted to stroke his ego?"

"We shouldn't speculate about such matters. But if you could give me a list of people who were panelists, that would be great. If you have records of any visits or tours, please give that to me as well." 

She smacked her lips together. "I might be able to get the records, but I am sure the list of panelists and guests is available to me."

The woman in front of me had covered the BTS Killer so well that she had received praise for it. I remembered listening to her passionately speaking about the cause despite being threatened by the letter. She had spoken about it on live news without regard for her life. 

Now that I was sitting in front of her, I knew that she had been pretending back then. She had been scared out of her mind.

"Please get it for me," I said quickly. She didn't dally around and went behind her desk.

"I have a list of people I spoke to. It's like a resume I keep. It's something all reporters do. Take pictures of who we shake hands with," she commented as she scrolled through the screen. "Here. Found the lists," she looked up and smiled at me. The printer whirred beside her and she picked the papers out and handed them over to me. 

I flipped through the paper, seeing a lot of familiar names on it. "You need to email it to me as well," I informed. I kept my eyes on the paper and pulled out the list already in my possession.

More clues but still nothing confirmed. At least we were getting somewhere.

"Do you have any pictures with the panelists?" I asked out of the blue.

She blinked. "I think I do," she frowned.

If the accomplice had seen a picture of the crime scenes, it didn't necessarily have to do with the evidence we had at hand. I had checked the records and knew that no one had accessed them in years. It could be that the BTS Killers took pictures alongside taking memorabilia from the crime scene. They could have taken pictures with the reporter as well. 

It would fit the ego-related tendencies.

She was searching for the pictures when the call came in.

"Any new leads?" I asked breathlessly the moment I picked up the call. We had barely had any time for pleasantries since this began. It felt like a routine to just focus on business and facts and in finding the answers.

"Yes. We're already back at the station. We're analyzing the new evidence." I could hear the surprise and delight in Nash's voice.

"What is it?" I asked, waiting with bated breath. 

"It was a manila envelope inside the locker. Opened it and found a floppy disk… remember the ones we used years ago?" I hummed in acknowledgment. I knew what he was talking about. "It was wiped clean with only a document that said test on it."

I chuckled. "And prints?" I asked. 

"We took everything. I don't have much hope for partial prints. The locker had been touched so much. But we are cracking the floppy disk. It's not commonly known but even if you delete files from CDs, disks, and pen drives, they can be retrieved. We are also looking at the model and administrator names. We'll have an answer to all your questions soon," Nash said light-heartedly. "Any progress on your part?" he asked. 

"I have a shortlist. Nothing as impressive as you," I complimented. 

"Shut up. You're the one who came up with all of this." He paused. "I haven't told anyone about this. Do you understand? Only the analyst and I know of this matter… that we found something. Once we have a name, you have to come back and we need to formulate a plan to dupe them into talking."

I sucked in a shuddering breath.

"I have some leads left. I'll be back in no time," I whispered into the phone.

"Great. Oh—" Nash interrupted. "I have a call coming in. I'll talk to you when you are back, okay?"

The call ended in a rush and I was looking at the anchor scrambling.

"Emailed it to you," she chirped after a while.

I looked at the email and scrolled through the pictures. I knew some of these people. I hadn't talked to them personally but they were bigwigs now. Very different from who they were years ago.

And I had it. "I may have more questions. I'll come by if I have anything else."

The anchor nodded enthusiastically before leading me outside.

I was finally in the car and driving back when the call came in. I blinked at the phone and put it on speaker. 

"Got a name?" I asked. 

"Yup. I confirmed with the prosecutor who was working on Collins' case, too. It coincides," Nash breathed. I could hear the relief in his voice. "I haven't said the name out loud and I have forbidden the analyst to do the same. Once you come back, we'll discuss it."

The phone was cut and I realized that today was the day I would break all the traffic laws I would in this lifetime. I was back at the station in record time.

Nash was waiting for me at the entrance, a small smile on his lips.

We walked through the hallway with Nash talking about lunch. I didn't smile or comment, but I didn't let others know we were doing something. There were eyes on us. 

It had been there since Evie went missing.

We were locked inside Nash's office and the food was brought out. The smell of lunch wafted through the air as we sat across from one another.

"Who is it?" I asked. I couldn't wait for the answer. 

"Guess," Nash joked. He knew I didn't have time for this. But I could play along. I had my suspicion. When you saw a name come up again and again, it was no coincidence.

"It's the Director-General of City Police." I was not confident, but this was my gut speaking.

Nash's eyes widened. "You're right," he said softly. "My God, you really are a genius. Did you have a psychic moment?"

I scoffed. "You got his name?" Nash nodded. "I had the pictures, the lack of knowledge that floppy disks can store deleted information… Add in the infamous rumors about the nice son he has… it fit."

"It is him but it also makes it harder for us," Nash claimed. "Every email we have sent regarding the accomplice case and the BTS Killer updates have had been in CC. It was only recently we stopped briefing anyone about our movement. The DG is weary. We cannot bring him in for an interrogation. He will lawyer up and not say a word."

I thought about it for a moment. "He is easily influenced by his son, is he not?" I questioned. "Then, why don't we ask him for his opinion on the case… he was a lead detective in violent crime for a few years, right?"

"But we can't film him. Even if we get a confession, it will be nothing more than hearsay. How do we pin this on him?" Nash asked. 

I squeezed my eyes shut. "Hidden camera," I announced. 

Nash shook his head vehemently. "It's not allowed. That would not stand in court. The lawyers will exclude it from the list of evidence the moment prosecutors submit it," he claimed. 

"Aren't you on good terms with that prosecutor? You gave him two big cases in the past month. He could get us a court order for surveillance, right?"

I was desperate at this point. 

Nash's eyes brightened for a second before he deflated. "A court order will take a day in the least." And then he became silent. "We could… ask him," he whispered. 

"Tell him who the order is against before he promises to get it?" I asked. 

Nash nodded. "I could entice him with another brilliant case. He wouldn't say no."

I sagged and gave in. The conversation happened right in front of me and I could hear the struggle in the conversation. Once the prosecutor heard the name of the suspect, he bottled up his emotions. He couldn't do that to one of his own!

I understood loyalty, but it was his job. "It's because he is one of your own that you need to do this. He's been parading around as a good person for years while he brutally slaughtered women and families. He needs to be held to the highest standard."

That seemed to poke a hole in the prosecutor's logic. He sighed. "Okay. My wife is a judge. I'll ask her to get a rushed court order." 

I looked up at Nash with a wide grin.

Bill Phillips, Director General of City Police.

An infamous serial killer. 

Loving and protective father to the twenty-seven-year-old day trader, Benny Phillips. 

Benny Phillips, the man who took Evie.