WA6 Rough Rough Draft

I lowered my gun in utter disbelief.  After months and months of searching we had finally found him.  Late night stakeouts, scanning file after file, record after record, photo after photo.  I mean the guy had been like a ghost, no fingerprints or hairs were ever found at the crime scene.   There were only two things that were ever constants; was the cause of death.  All of the victims were choked judging by the marks left on their necks the murder weapon was always the same beaded rope. The second thing was a small trinket stolen from every victim.  Nothing valuable, just something the victim had for memories. Other than that we didn’t no anything about him, we didn’t even know his name, heck we didn’t even no if he is a he.  I think my partner was beginning to lose his mind.  He couldn’t sleep at night.  He wasn’t eating.  This guy was getting into my partners head like no criminal ever should.  My partner was becoming too emotional, he was frustrated and in effect, he became sloppy.  He missed way to many opportunities.  But there was one opportunity that was not missed.  It started about a week ago when an anonymous caller wanted to leave a tip about the “ghost” murders (that’s what this case was called, can you believe that?).  This was nothing new we had gotten so many false tips on this case that we almost ignored them completely.  Whether it was a drunken high school punk claiming to be the “ghost” or just a random idiot using a corny movie line like “Breadcrumbs, follow the breadcrumbs” we had heard it all.  However there was something different about this caller.  I don’t know what it was but if I had to guess I would say it was the voice.   It was a low raspy voice that spoke cautiously, like it was tiptoeing in a minefield.  It said, “the ghost is dying” It paused and then said, “If you wish to catch him, you must let him come to you.”  There was a click on the other end of the line and my conversation was over.  The next day I received another call, but this time it was from a more familiar voice, my partner.  He told me that the investigation was being called off, and marked as a cold case.  It was because of lack of evidence and other leads.  In immense frustration I went home and took the next few days off.  I needed a mental rest after realizing I had spent the past 5 months wasting my time on an unsolvable case.  After my break I was walking back to the station when my partner called and said that they had been sent a necklace that matched the marks found on the victims necks.  The most valuable on the necklace part of the necklace were the fingerprints of several victims, and an unknown set.  We checked to see if the computer had a match for the unknown pair.  Sure enough the fingerprints belonged to Mr. Henry Lannes.  He had committed small crimes but more importantly had lived in an insane asylum until about three weeks before the first murder.  We looked his address on the criminal database.  Rushing to his apartment we saw him sitting outside weaving a bead necklace.  It was so easy.  This couldn’t be him.  This wasn’t him.  I lowered my gun in utter disbelief.