Petra had indeed finished talking to the other police officers, and was now looking at a chalkboard that held the names of the six girls that had already been killed. When I reached her she turned to me.
“Besides the gem stones for names, there is nothing that really ties them together,” she said. “They weren’t even found in the same place, but in six different locations. I am sure this killer was one smart son of a bitch, and whoever is helping him must be too.” She turned back to the board and stared at the names. “They had no shared background, worked in different layers of society and did not know each other. As far as we can tell they didn’t even know the murderer … but he knew them. He knew their names, knew they were named after gemstones. But why gemstones? He never gave a reason for that, he just said he was saving them. Did he think life in New Billingham was that bad?” She sighed and sank into her seat. “Did you come up with anything, and did Andreaa have anything new to tell you? I saw you and lion boy go down there.”
She didn’t like Victor much, but for now that didn’t matter; she knew that we needed all the help we could get.
“We found out that the nails that the killer used are not concrete nails like Andreaa suggested, but in fact coffin nails, and that the serial numbers on them are the same as the apartment number of the murderer, and the date or time that he left as a clue.”
Petra couldn’t help smiling. “You mean to say Andreaa made a mistake? Bet she didn’t take that well, she is a perfectionist.” I nodded in agreement. “Yeah, it didn’t go down well at all. I’ve got them looking over the morgue files again, to see if we missed anything else.”
“I understand, you thought that lion boy might offer a fresh pair of eyes,” she replied.
I stood up and stretched. “I’m going home. I need to do some talking,” I said.
Petra looked at me. “Your house or your demon’s house? I need to know where you are if we have to get hold of you,” she asked, getting up and heading to the coffee machine. “Fraza’s house,” I replied as I waved at her on my way to the door.
I really didn’t feel like talking to Fraza, but I had to, especially about what had happened with Kendra. The more I thought about telling Fraza about it, the sicker I felt. How would she react? Would she be angry? She certainly would have a good enough reason.  

Next Chapter: A creepy reporter