[Police HQ – Evidence Room – 9:15 AM, Next Day]
Tim flips through autopsy photos, rubbing his temples.
Carol's voice is sharper than usual.
"This guy—he wants attention. He's escalating. We need to figure out what the next message is."
I remain silent, pretending to be focused on a tissue sample under the microscope.
Escalating? No. He's begging.
He wants me to look. He wants to be seen.
And I will give him that… right before I take everything away.
Tim turns to me.
"What do you think, Daniel? This… copycat. You said yesterday he lacked 'discipline.' Still think he's untrained?"
"Yes," I reply calmly. "But he's learning. Quickly. He mimicked the thoracic opening better this time. The folding was… almost elegant."
Carol frowns. "So he's watching us. Watching you?"
Not just watching. Studying me.
Trying to earn my approval. Poor thing.
⸻
[Victim's House – 4:47 PM]
The place is taped off. Blood still stains the floor.
Tim's scanning the room. Carol's taking photos.
I kneel beside a faint imprint in the corner—something the others missed.
A boot print. Narrow, almost delicate. And faint scratches in the floorboards nearby. Like someone dragged something heavy.
Interesting.
Not heavy. Metal. Equipment? A sculpting tool?
Trying to create like me… but lacking the instinct to clean up.
Messy little hands.
Carol crouches next to me. "Find something?"
"A boot print. Size nine, I think. Could be a young male. Left-handed, judging by the depth of the cuts and entry angle."
Tim raises an eyebrow. "That's specific."
I glance up with a smile. "Observation is an art form."
⸻
[Daniel's Apartment – 11:11 PM]
I lay the boot print sketch beside two others—collected quietly from the last scenes. They match.
He's not just copying. He's following a pattern. A routine.
A student without a teacher… until now.
I tap the metal scratch marks.
Sculpting tools. Dental picks. A rare choice.
There's only one art supply store in this city that carries them.
He's local. He's within reach.
⸻
[Police HQ – Surveillance Room – 11:33 AM]
Tim frowns at the security footage Josh handed over. "That's him?"
I nod. "Watch his gait. Nervous. He's left-handed. See the way he signs?"
Carol's voice darkens. "We got him. What now?"
I turn toward the camera.
Now… we lure him in.
No more hiding. No more pretending.
You wanted my attention, little imitator?
You have it. And now, I'll teach you the difference between creation… and butchery.