A flash of recognition entered my mind. The television had said something about a serial killer. Serial killers, as I remembered were pretty sick bastards. They
usually did weird things like collect things from their victims, or.... ...send them flowers. I almost screamed there all by myself. What could I do? The police
wouldn't believe me with the evidence I had, and even if they did, it would probably be too late before they got anything done. I would have to tackle this creep by
myself.