26- A Pattern of Coincidence.

Mazurka sat in his car for several minutes staring down at his phone, Harlowe's number on the screen.

"Shit," he grumbled to himself knowing that he was only delaying the inevitable. He knew he had to share what he knew, even though it meant he'd have to give up his source. Harlowe was his partner after all.

With a hefty sigh, he started his car, his phone connected into the hands-free system, "Call Renford Harlowe," he ordered his car.

"Calling Renford Harlowe," it responded, followed by the familiar sound of ringing.

"What've you got for me, Mazurka?" Harlowe answered with a dry tone.

"The answer to your question," Mazurka replied while backing out of the parking spot. "I've discovered the identity of your mysterious vagrant. Brace yourself for this one, it's Dylan Kirkwood. That's what Quayleigh, the Liebman's clerk, was hiding. He's staying with her for now, which explains why he never resurfaced at Caldwell."

"But that doesn't make any sense. How the hell does a rich kid like Kirkwood end up in a homeless camp on the far side of the Downs?"

"That's a good question," he replied with a tone of cynicism as he turned out onto the street. "All I know is that his memories have been messed with. He doesn't remember hardly anything, including his own family."

"So, what's the connection between him and the girl? I find it hard to believe that even a woman like her is desperate enough to shack up with a homeless guy, especially one that comes across as creepy and unstable," Harlowe spoke his mind.

"She claims to be his grief support sponsor, but I don't buy that story for a second. She's lying about how they met, but I can't figure out why."

"Could she be the reason his memories are a mess?"

"Possibly. As much as I hate to admit it, I half suspect her of the same thing."

"I doubt she's registered, but she could still be a practitioner."

Mazurka paused; he knew he had said more than he had intended and began to hastily refute Harlowe's accusation.

"She's not. She's not a practitioner. At least not from what I've observed. Her knowledge is extensive though, and she may have given information to Dylan that lead him into a situation that caused this. We both know who his mother is, so there's no reason to believe that he couldn't be responsible for this himself either. Look, I don't know how all of this is connected yet, but there are too many coincidences. The timing, the picture on the victim, their proximity to the store, Dylan's situation, and his arrival on Caldwell. Of all the camps to end up at why that one? There are at least three between the Grove and the Downs, so what lead him there?"

"Are you in a position to find out those answers? Can you stay close to the two of them?" Harlowe asked as Mazurka made his way across the bridge into Freetier Park.

"Yeah. Dylan's expecting me to show up tomorrow after my shift, as long as there are no complications."

"Then I'll make sure any complications that arise, don't affect you," Harlowe responded with a light chuckle. "You on your way home?"

"Yeah."

"Good, swing by the precinct, Ginny dropped off those files you requested, along with an 'added bonus' as she put it. Turns out she did some more digging on that clerk for you. Turns out her story didn't end well after all."

"Great, I'll see you when I get there."

"I'll be waiting," Harlowe remarked as he hung up the phone.

Mazurka finished his drive back to the precinct deep in thought and joined Harlowe in their office once they arrived.

"Bit surprised you stuck around," Mazurka said as he took a seat at his desk.

"Wanted to finish going over Muggs Autopsy report for the first of the group victims."

"Anything unusual?"

"Aside from a high amount of adrenaline in his system, absolutely nothing. No residual magic either," Harlowe stated as he slid the file towards him. "Same as all the others."

"So why did you stick around?" Mazurka queried knowing full well that it wouldn't have taken more than a few minutes to read over the report.

Harlowe leaned forward on his desk, rubbing at the bridge of his nose as he set down his reading glasses.

"Hayden Folsten, one of the profilers that Clairmont loaned to the task force, has established a timeline. She says if our killer sticks to his pattern, he will strike again tonight, then he will take a break for five days before killing again."

"But we have no way of knowing how that group of five is going to affect his pattern."

"It also means that we're missing a body."

"Just one?"

"If the pattern holds true, yes. But if there isn't a break period every third kill, as the confirmed TODs suggest, then we could be missing five, possibly more since Folsten insists that we haven't found his first victim yet."

"It's not like the killer has gone to great lengths to hide what he's done. What is Folsten basing that on?"

"Simon Wilton and Stephany Addie were found to have died two days apart, but there is a five-day rest between them and when the next three victims were found, and the pattern continues until the group two nights ago. She believes that we haven't found the one before Wilton because of the pattern that follows."

"Reasonable enough assumption, but it's rare for serial killers to establish themselves so quickly and why this specific pattern? I think whoever's doing this, is toying with us. We're only finding the victims he wants us to find, and before this is over, I think we're going to find a lot more."

"Or we've already found our killer," Harlowe muttered under his breath.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Like you said, there are just too many coincidences. I also failed to mention that Mr. Scarlett told me that Towel had a habit of leaving his box at night, once every few days, and THAT sounds like a familiar pattern to me."

"Even so, that isn't enough to bring him in on anything. We need more to go on."

"I don't disagree," Harlowe replied as he leaned back in his chair. "If only we knew how he selected his victims."

"Well, I have a theory about that," Mazurka replied as Harlowe smirked at him.

"I take it your conversation with your favorite clerk was fruitful?"

"Ah," Mazurka's cheeks darkened as he looked at the top of his desk and scratched awkwardly at the back of his head, "well, she… she gave me a lot to think about. No doubt about that." He took a moment to regain his composure. "She also raised some interesting questions, one in particular that I want to follow up on."

"Which is?"

"The possibility that this could have happened before. Perhaps in a different city or country. She suggested that this might be a part of a generational ritual, and that made me wonder if the victims themselves aren't connected, but maybe their families at one time were."

Harlowe bobbed his head as he took in the information. "If that's the case there may be something more at play than just a pain in the ass serial killer. There may be a purpose behind what's happening, and damn if that isn't a terrifying proposition. I'll brief the taskforce with this possibility tomorrow at the meeting. If nothing else, it will give the research department something to get busy on. Did she happen to tell you anything else that may be of interest? Like whether she's available for dinner next Friday?"

"I haven't asked…" Mazurka groaned as he set his head on his desk causing Harlowe to smile and laugh.

"You're slipping Yechi. Go home and get some sleep."

"Yeah, yeah. Before I go though, she did mention one other thing that might be a possibility; Death magics. She couldn't say anything more on the subject though, since the MET has everything to do with it on complete lockdown. I doubt even Ginny could get us in to speak with someone about it."

"Look kid, you keep digging into whatever it is you're digging at, and leave dealing with the MET to me. I've got an old connection on the inside that stills owes me a favor. About time I cash in on it."

"Just be careful Harlowe. The more we go poking around in this direction, the more attention we could be drawing to ourselves, and honestly, that gives me a really bad feeling."

"You aren't the only one kid."

Reaching over Mazurka grabbed the top file from the pile that had been left on his desk.

"Timothy Kesling? Why does that name sound familiar?" he asked as he opened up the file.

"That's the bonus file I mentioned. Might be a bit before your time, but it was a pretty big case with lots of media coverage a few years back. He was convicted on a bunch of pedophile charges, child endangerment, that sort of sick shit that makes even my stomach churn. Turns out, your clerk was his victim for more than two years while living as a foster under the care of him and his wife. He's currently serving a life sentence down in Torghan. Any mention of the girls name was supposed to have been sealed because she was a minor at the time of the crimes, so how Ginny found out about it, or how she came across it, I wouldn't ask if you know what's good for you."

"Shit, as if she hadn't been through enough. Well, if he winds up dead, at least we'll know for certain that she's more involved in this than she's letting on. Until then, I'm not going to jump to any conclusions just because things appear to point in Dylan's direction and she's currently allowing him to live with her."

"Yeah, you keep your feelings in check. If this all leads back to Dylan, you better bet she's neck deep in this too. Don't get attached Mazurka. Even if she's innocent of everything, she's damaged," he said as he pointed towards the file he was holding. "Nothing good will come of it."

"I'll keep that in mind," he replied as he stood up and stretched. "I'm off for the night. Here's hoping our killer takes a break too. I could use a solid eight."

"See you tomorrow." Harlow said as Mazurka picked up the files and left the office heading out to his car.

It was a short drive back to his home, and when he arrived, he took the files up to his apartment and set them on his kitchen table. Changing into something more comfortable, he grabbed a bottle of water from his fridge, picked up the Kesling casefile, and headed over to his favorite recliner where he stretched out, turning on his reading lamp. Cracking open the bottle, he took a drink as he opened the cover of the file, saying, "Alright Timothy Kesling, let's see what kind of a scumbag you are."