[Ficlet] Breakthrough
It's the music.
Ever since he can remember, Frank Lundy has always used music to get into the right frame of mind: for studying in college, mostly, or to psych himself up for a first date or baseball game. When he'd begun to work for military intelligence, however, he'd found that music had another use: getting into someone else's head.
Every life has a rhythm, a pattern of behavior. It can be frantic and unpredictable, or barely changing. The melody can be bright and warm, or dark and sinister. But it all fits perfectly.
The evidence board in Frank's office has steadily built up with evidence over the past few weeks, and is now a collage of autopsy photos, witness reports, and interviews with potential suspects. He even has copies of evidence Deb had sent him from a few similar cases in Miami. Annie's statement is up there too - even though it's probably unimportant in terms of the case as a whole, he finds himself reading it over and over, simultaneously wishing that she hadn't been involved... and that she'd seen more.
He eats his lunch at his laptop, streaming a "golden oldies" radio station while he chats with Annie online about their friend Jean-Paul's relationship problems, Jono's new shed, and her insistence that she needs to apologize to him. When he signs off, though, there's a hint of a thought niggling him, as though he's forgotten something. One of Carter's school projects? No...
He's staring at Annie's statement again when it hits him. The most important evidence she'd had wasn't what was written here. It was a song.
"My Girl..." Frank whispers, as suddenly the memory comes back to him, of a vinyl collection, of someone who travels with his work, possibly even to Miami. He snatches up the phone, and it takes less than an hour to confirm the hunch: the brother of that poor girl Annie had known, who had been so helpful to him, who treasures his records, who has spent extensive time in Florida with the military...
He's already on the phone with a judge as he runs out the door.
***
The entire might of the FBI comes crashing into the house, but there's no one there, even after Frank has his men check the basement, shed, and any other likely locations in the neighborhood.
What he does find is evidence: newspaper articles of the crimes, and a journal showing photographs of the women he had stalked and then killed, as well as a detailed plan for... Frank recoils. For making his own "perfect woman" from the body parts he had collected from his victims. Perfect hands, feet, face...
And, as he turns to the last pages, he discovers just who the killer has decided will supply the "perfect heart" for his creation.
***
Meanwhile, at the hospital, Annie is making a trek to the storage closet again, on what has turned out to be a particularly disorganized day. But at least she'd had some time to talk to Frank at lunchtime, make sure that Jean-Paul was going to be okay, and arrange for Jono and Pietro to look after Carter this weekend. Two whole days alone with Frank... Even if she doesn't quite manage to ask him that question, it'll be heaven.
Just as she unlocks the closet, she hears a noise. "Hello?" she calls. Plenty of patients - and doctors - get lost along here.
Nothing.
And then, just as she shrugs and turns her attention back to the door, he's right there, arm around her throat. "Excuse me, Miss," he whispers by her ear. "I was wondering if you'd assist me with some surgery..."
Ever since he can remember, Frank Lundy has always used music to get into the right frame of mind: for studying in college, mostly, or to psych himself up for a first date or baseball game. When he'd begun to work for military intelligence, however, he'd found that music had another use: getting into someone else's head.
Every life has a rhythm, a pattern of behavior. It can be frantic and unpredictable, or barely changing. The melody can be bright and warm, or dark and sinister. But it all fits perfectly.
The evidence board in Frank's office has steadily built up with evidence over the past few weeks, and is now a collage of autopsy photos, witness reports, and interviews with potential suspects. He even has copies of evidence Deb had sent him from a few similar cases in Miami. Annie's statement is up there too - even though it's probably unimportant in terms of the case as a whole, he finds himself reading it over and over, simultaneously wishing that she hadn't been involved... and that she'd seen more.
He eats his lunch at his laptop, streaming a "golden oldies" radio station while he chats with Annie online about their friend Jean-Paul's relationship problems, Jono's new shed, and her insistence that she needs to apologize to him. When he signs off, though, there's a hint of a thought niggling him, as though he's forgotten something. One of Carter's school projects? No...
He's staring at Annie's statement again when it hits him. The most important evidence she'd had wasn't what was written here. It was a song.
"My Girl..." Frank whispers, as suddenly the memory comes back to him, of a vinyl collection, of someone who travels with his work, possibly even to Miami. He snatches up the phone, and it takes less than an hour to confirm the hunch: the brother of that poor girl Annie had known, who had been so helpful to him, who treasures his records, who has spent extensive time in Florida with the military...
He's already on the phone with a judge as he runs out the door.
***
The entire might of the FBI comes crashing into the house, but there's no one there, even after Frank has his men check the basement, shed, and any other likely locations in the neighborhood.
What he does find is evidence: newspaper articles of the crimes, and a journal showing photographs of the women he had stalked and then killed, as well as a detailed plan for... Frank recoils. For making his own "perfect woman" from the body parts he had collected from his victims. Perfect hands, feet, face...
And, as he turns to the last pages, he discovers just who the killer has decided will supply the "perfect heart" for his creation.
***
Meanwhile, at the hospital, Annie is making a trek to the storage closet again, on what has turned out to be a particularly disorganized day. But at least she'd had some time to talk to Frank at lunchtime, make sure that Jean-Paul was going to be okay, and arrange for Jono and Pietro to look after Carter this weekend. Two whole days alone with Frank... Even if she doesn't quite manage to ask him that question, it'll be heaven.
Just as she unlocks the closet, she hears a noise. "Hello?" she calls. Plenty of patients - and doctors - get lost along here.
Nothing.
And then, just as she shrugs and turns her attention back to the door, he's right there, arm around her throat. "Excuse me, Miss," he whispers by her ear. "I was wondering if you'd assist me with some surgery..."