Anton often wondered when they’d start getting serious about the murders– yeah, everyone on the force was having a conniption over each new body that ends up, regardless of their presence and their strategies. He wonders when the FBI or some special task force starts coming in and try their hand at stopping him.
But, now as he glances over to the other, he tries to focus on the rest of the crowd. Everyone had the same concerned and frightened look as this man– hey, he wondered if this guy was a father too? “You got kids? My daughter’s thirteen…I know all the girl’s this psycho’s killed were…were a lil’ older, I think but…” Anton’s head shakes and he visibly shivers. “I’m too afraid to even bring her near the beach, in case this killer’s near, you know?”
What he fails to mention is the recent break in the case the authorities made only last week. That this so called Coney Island Killer isn’t just carving open college girls but also was linked to a number of middle aged men being burned alive as well– Variety is the spice of life, right?
❛ No, I don’t have kids. ❜Drew shakes his head, which ends up tilted to the side in thought. ❛ Just me I guess. ❜ His loneliness would strike him right then if it weren’t for his friends and co-workers, the bar being the only place to call a real home. It’s been a while like that.
❛ The world’s a dangerous place nowadays, no one is really safe. That saddens me as it does plenty of people too, I’m thinking everyone standing here has a mixture of sadness, anger and frustration. But anyway, what’s left is to be cautious. ❜
This man seemed like he did, have a mixture of feelings, most of them anger against authorities - the ones checking at the scene beyond the tape - and Drew’s eyes fixed themselves a little bit too long at the guy’s features. He didn’t mean to stare, he never does, but alas it always happen and he gasps deviating his look towards the horizon.
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