Damara’s taunting burned in his gut. The attack on Germaine, the rampage on Sherry’s home, the latest of many.  He doubted she’d intended or suspected her picture had been capture as she stood in the shadows at the murder of Darren Prichard and undoubtedly she was unaware he had a picture of her at Webster’s.  That moment was particularly telling for Randal.  Instantly, overwhelming feelings of anger and frustration nearly choked him.  See, this I can do!  You can’t stop me.  The feelings ran deep; they weren’t new, but deeply ingrained, possibly even obsessive he admitted.

Eight years according to the files he’d witnessed laying on his desk – a long- time adversary who’d consistently managed to escape.  He needed to go back, take another look, see if there were any indicators suggesting how she was pulling off evading him and the entire task force.  That was more than luck, it took skill.

As he lay there, he began envisioning others around him, good men and women who worked hard, were solid dependable and who worked cohesively as a team.  His team.  It was a guarantee, a certainty, and it baffled him.

He had a photographic memory.  The moment he’d joined the police force flashed before his eyes, the moment he’d met Germaine, the moment he’d met Sherry, all clear as day! No doubt no equivocation. But so was this other picture. Neither overlapped, they just were!

 

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