Sarah Chen was still breathing when Pocho got to the hospital.
That already made this different.
She was in surgery when he arrived. Both legs broken. One arm fractured. Jaw damaged. Skull injury but not crushed.
The grocery store parking lot was taped off. Blood on the pavement. No witnesses.
Store closed at ten.
Attack happened around ten fifteen.
Same pattern.
Heavy blunt object. Repeated strikes. No robbery.
Her purse was still on the ground. Cash inside.
Pocho stood outside the operating room doors for a few minutes before a doctor came out.
"She's stable," the doctor said. "Barely. Whoever did this knew how to hurt someone without killing them immediately."
"How long was she conscious?" Pocho asked.
"Hard to say. Probably most of it."
Pocho nodded.
"When can I speak to her?"
"She's heavily sedated. Maybe tomorrow."
That was fine.
He didn't need full statements yet.
He needed pattern.
---
Back at the station, they pinned Sarah's name under Rick's on the board.
Two victims.
Both attacked alone. Both at night. Both beaten, not stabbed. Both wallets untouched.
Harris leaned back in his chair.
"Okay," he said. "Now it's something."
"Yes," Pocho replied.
Morrison walked in, already tense.
"Tell me we're not looking at a serial."
Pocho didn't answer immediately.
"Same method," he said. "Same weapon type. Same lack of robbery."
Morrison rubbed his forehead.
"Keep this quiet."
"For how long?" Pocho asked.
"As long as we can."
Pocho didn't argue.
Not yet.
---
The next morning, Sarah was awake.
She looked smaller in the hospital bed than she had in the photos from her employee file.
Her legs were in casts. One arm in a sling. Bruises across her face.
Pocho pulled a chair next to the bed.
"I'm Detective Pocho," he said.
She nodded slightly.
"Do you remember what happened?"
Her voice was weak.
"I was locking up. I heard footsteps."
"Did you see him?"
"Big. Taller than me."
"That's not hard," Pocho said calmly. "How tall?"
"Over six feet. I think."
"Face?"
"Shadow."
"Anything you noticed?"
She swallowed.
"He didn't rush."
Pocho waited.
"He… he wasn't angry. He was focused."
That matched Rick's injuries.
Controlled damage.
"Did he say anything?"
She closed her eyes, thinking.
"He told me not to scream."
"Anything else?"
She hesitated.
"He laughed."
Pocho didn't react.
"Describe it."
"Not loud. Not crazy. Just… like he was enjoying it."
He wrote that down.
"Did he smell like anything?"
"Yes."
She didn't hesitate.
"Motor oil. And cigarettes."
That detail stayed.
"Did he take anything?"
"No."
"Did you know him?"
"No."
She opened her eyes fully and looked at him.
"Is he going to do it again?"
Pocho didn't lie.
"Yes."
She nodded once.
"Then don't stop."
That wasn't dramatic.
It was simple.
He stood up.
"I won't."
---
By afternoon, they had third confirmation from forensics.
Tool marks on Sarah's bones matched the angle and pattern on Rick's.
Same weapon type.
Same hand dominance.
Same level of force.
Harris stared at the report.
"This isn't random."
"No," Pocho said.
"This is practice."
Pocho didn't answer.
He was thinking the same thing.
---
At 8:17 p.m., Pocho was still at his desk.
Most of the station had cleared out.
His phone rang.
Unknown number.
He stared at it for two rings.
Then answered.
"Pocho."
Silence for two seconds.
Then a calm voice.
"You work late."
Pocho didn't speak.
"You should go home more."
The voice wasn't loud.
It wasn't distorted.
It sounded normal.
Adult male. Controlled. Slight rasp.
"Who is this?" Pocho asked.
"You already know."
Pocho leaned back slowly.
"How'd you get this number?"
"That's the wrong question."
The voice almost sounded amused.
"You've been busy today."
Pocho kept his tone flat.
"What do you want?"
A short pause.
"To talk."
"That's unlikely."
"I was curious."
"About what?"
"About you."
Pocho didn't fill the silence.
"I watched you at the grocery store," the man said. "You don't look like someone who quits."
Pocho's jaw tightened slightly.
"You're making a mistake," he said.
"No," the voice replied calmly. "You are."
Another pause.
"You're already thinking about the next one."
Pocho didn't answer.
The man continued.
"You won't sleep much tonight."
Click.
The line went dead.
Pocho stared at the phone for a few seconds.
He replayed the voice in his head.
Not angry.
Not rushed.
Not unstable.
Confident.
Harris walked over.
"You look like you saw something."
Pocho stood up.
"He called."
Harris froze.
"Who?"
Pocho met his eyes.
"He's not hiding."