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*Vrrrr vrrr*

"What happened to you? I thought you died! I'm sure you've heard about what happened. The chief wants you on the scene as soon as possible." The familiar voice rung through Lucaster's ears. Taking nothing in and staring into space, Julian forced himself to give an occasional "hmm" to make it seem like everything was all right. It wasn't.
"So I'm guessing you want me to go to the scene, right Delassi?" Said Julian, blindly.
"Did you even hear a word I just said?"
"I'll take that as a yes, then. Bye." With that, Julian hung up, leaving a flabbergasted Delassi on the other end.


After that phone call, Julian was on "flight mode" so to speak, metaphorically as he was in shock and literally because he was on board a private jet heading to Honfleur. I wonder what the chances are that this plane would crash. Thoughts engulfed his vacant mind as the plane prepared for take off. Would anyone even miss me? I could just disappear and no one would know. As these thoughts possessed Julian's mind, time flew by. Almost halfway through the flight, Lucaster's mind is spinning and spiralling into the depths of despair.


After landing safely, Julian feels slightly better. Perhaps the feeling of having your feet on solid ground has helped him take his head out of the dull and gloomy clouds.

The scene is about an hour drive from Honfleur airport, meaning that, by leaving now, he will arrive around 14:55.

Feeling empty and lost, Julian gazes out the window of the vehicle. Nothing but luscious countryside and endless emerald fields. Unfortunately the idyllic scenery does nothing to change Lucaster's mood. 

Why can't I get this? Getting increasingly frustrated, Julian spirals. I've had this case for years and I just can't crack it. What if I never do? There must be something I'm missing. Anything would be useful at this point. All we know is that someone dies everyday at 7:20. No doubt about it. Running through the facts in his head, Julian doesn't realise the time. Rolling up to the scene, he is still in a daze.

Expecting something different, Lucaster is directed to an alleyway. Much like the one where he saw that distraught woman.

"Where is the victim?"

"Right down this way." Entering the victim's resting place, on a stretcher, under covers. This mildly shocked Lucaster as he thought that the least this poor soul deserved was an adequate resting place, however temporary it may be.

"What time roughly did the crime happen?"
"Of course it did..." Muttered Julian. "Can I lift up the covers?"
The other officer nodded, not that any of this affecting him like it did Julian.

Making his way over to the stretcher, Julian's stomach turns endlessly. Let's see who I couldn't save this time. The person lying under there was the last person he expected. The name tag still pinned to the uniform. Hélèna Coudard.


Hélèna. Why her? How did she get from Toulouse to Honfleur so quickly? She must have left straight after we talked. That must be why she left so abruptly... But why Honfleur? If she had family, why was she found dead in an alleyway? Lucaster ran the all the facts in his head for well over an hour. There has to be a valid reason for all these murders. What I find most peculiar is that I was connected in someway to the murders. If they even are murders. We still have no leads... Okay. Let me run through the facts once more... I'll start from when I was a witness to one. Leonapoli, in Toulouse. He was a chef. Coudard was a waitress. Maybe people working in restaurants or in that area are being targeted? I'll have to keep an eye on that...

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