"Alright. . . What the hell am I looking at?" I asked Jack as I picked my way slowly to the fridge to pull out an energy drink. I was going to be addicted to this stuff by the end of the investigation.

"It's notes. I don't know what most of it means, they use a lot of shorthand and codes that I just can't understand, but they are connecting these deaths to deaths eighty years ago, like you heard earlier. They think it's a copycat killer because this is noticeably different. One, it's been eighty years, two, the victim profile is completely different, and three, there's only one every month," Jack explained.

"Okay, so other than eighty years, explain what exactly is different about everything else," I commanded as I took a sip of my drink, letting the battery acid like taste coat my tongue. I slowly moved around papers until I had joined Jack in the circle that was clear of papers, a small pathway leading from the circle to the corkboard and another leading towards the couch where a computer sat with the file I had e-mailed over sat open.

"Before there was no discernable victim profile. They all looked like opportunity killings. Now it seems like they were attacking girls between the ages of sixteen and twenty five. This was the first killing of Caucasian descent, the other two had darker complexions. They all died in exactly the same way, alone in their rooms, no sound until a loud shattering sound. Before bodies would be found anywhere from bathrooms to empty parking lots. There have also been three killings in as many months, well, when this happened last time there were around four killings every month for almost three years. They suddenly stopped one day with no explanation," Jack said.

"Was there a pattern in the killings before?"

"All killings in that month all happened on the same day, then twenty nine days exactly would go by before he killed more, all in one night."

"And the newer killings?"

"Same thing, but only one per twenty nine days."

"Shit. What does that mean? Did this ghost suddenly get some sort of need to justify? Is it a weird dead people sexual thing?" I asked to no one in particular.

"I don't think that this is the same person. I think this ghost finished his goal and passed along the knowledge of how to do what he did. I would guess that the method was passed on, which is why they seem so similar, but the reason for killing is completely different. I would guess that any parallels we draw are necessary for this type of murder. It's safe to say that anything that's different from before is what's going to help us catch this person," Jack reasoned as he held up a paper with all the similarities between the two killers.

"So what did the killer do that he didn't have to do? Kill women, kill only one woman per month, and kill them in their bedrooms," I listed out. "That doesn't give us much to work with."

"It gives us more than you think. I would guess that this killer is doing this out of some misguided ethical dilemma where before he seemed. . . Maybe spiteful? Angry at the living? I don't know, but there is a reason now. We just have to find out what it is," Jack said, his eyes read and wide with lack of sleep.

"What about the bigger picture? Did the locations of the older killings have a pattern? Could we predict where the next killing would have occurred if he hadn't stopped?" I asked Jack as I looked around for maps.

"I didn't see any. I used google maps to mark the points," he said, rushing over to his computer and changing tabs to show a map filled with markers. "There were almost one hundred fifty the first time, this was down in Florida."

"Fuck, I don't see anything," I wined as I dropped onto the couch next to Jack. The dots were grouped up in tight bunches of four or five at a time but they seemed to be all over the state and up into Georgia in some cases. "So where doesn't matter? What about now, is there a pattern? You should be able to find one with three points."

In response Jack zoomed out and then moved up before zooming back in on our city. One was on our apartment, another was on the other side of the city, and the last one was south of our apartment and east of the other killings. "That one was fist, then he went west over there, then the last one was Kaylyn, obviously."

"Can we like, triangulate or something? And why twenty nine? Does that number mean anything to you?" I asked Jack.

"I don't know about twenty nine, that doesn't mean anything to me, but I can try to triangulate," Jack said. He started messing with the computer, pulling out a dry erase marker and making marks on the screen with it.

"That's not how they do it in the movies," I remarked with skepticism filling my voice.

"Well, I'm guessing and you aren't much better. It looks like in the middle of all of these points is. . ." Jack zoomed in on the spot he had placed a fourth point. "The parking garage at the hospital. I don't think I did this right, none of them were there that day, I have no idea why that would be the place that connects them."

"I think this was a dumb idea anyways. A ghost doesn't need to have a base of operations like a person does, they just have to go somewhere and be inconspicuous. I assume that they didn't drag the ghosts off, especially to a hospital, those places are swarming with ghosts. He probably just wanders around until he sees someone he wants to kill on the twenty eighth day and he follows them home," I reasoned. We kept trying to solve this like a regular murder but it was most definitely not a regular murder. Dead people don't play by the same rules as regular people. "He could have followed her for miles and she would have never known."

"Damn it, you're right. So this guy could be anywhere, hell, we could have talked to him and never known it. Until we find out how this person is doing the things they're doing we'll never be able to identify anything that stands out." Jack put his head in his hands, rubbing his eyes.

I hadn't thought of that either. Every time we get more information we realize we were overlooking something crucial. In a world where everyone shows signs of anywhere from brutal to quiet deaths nothing really stood out. Except for crossed items. They were rare, so I didn't know much about them. The few I'd seen, a glass from the diner and a pair of shears when I was a kid, hadn't done anything to the real world with their presence. I ruled it out, but what if, with some ghosts power, the item could access the real world. But perhaps only every thirty days.

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I pulled out my phone, googling "every twenty nine days". I got a lot of sites explaining the regularity of a menstrual cycle.

"Jack, it's saying that a woman's period comes every twenty eight days. Do you think this killer could be a woman? Maybe their powers are determined by their period!" I said suddenly.

"Maybe. It could also be a jealousy thing now, killing living women because they're still alive!" Jack exclaimed, jumping up off of the couch and moving the laptop to the side.

"I also think that this may have something to do with crossed items. It's hard to explain, but sometimes when an item gets broken or destroyed it crosses over into the spirit world. I think an item that can be passed down is how this is happening. I don't know what that could have to do with menstrual cycles, but it's a start!" I said, joining him in standing. "Okay, but why did you make such a mess? This isn't that much information that you needed this much paper, was it?"

"It just seemed thematically appropriate," Jack said sheepishly, his excitement gone in a flash. I brought a hand up to hit him lightly in the head.

"You're gonna clean this up, then you're going to sleep. I know you need it. I'll pull the all nighter tonight, and if I have to I will force you to sleep and do nothing," I said, taking Jacks shoulders and holding him in place after smacking him upside the head. I let go and led him to the door, making sure he left his computer plugged in in my room.

"Fine, I'll sleep. Just. . . do something while I sleep. One of us has to be working on this all the time so we can catch this guy," Jack said as I pushed him out the door. He let he regardless of the fact that he was quite possibly twice my size and could have easily stopped me in my tracks.

"I promise. I'll find a pattern, I'll find the next place the killing will take place, and I will stop this killer from roaming free. But I can't have you dying on me. Especially not when it's because you were just too damned stubborn to sleep," I said as I pushed him the last few inches across the threshold. I closed the door without waiting for a response. I was starting to get annoyed with having him in my ear all damned day, but I couldn't get mad because I knew this was coming from a place of love.

I turned back to the room. "Fuck, I forgot to make him clean up." I picked through the room to the spot I had left my energy drink half consumed and picked it back up, sitting on the couch and looking out of the window. The tiniest sliver of moon was barely visible as I thought.

An item would make sense, more sense than reaching the living world being a skill that could be taught. My guess would be that the item had to be wielded by a woman, the item would sink with their cycle or whatever and then it would only work that one day out of the month. The dead didn't have cycles, and in fact most women forgot that they ever had periods after a few hundred years. They were almost impossible to understand at that point, but a few tried to keep up with the changes just to keep them busy.

That didn't assume that they ghost knew of the connection. Perhaps they tried to kill a lot of people and it only worked on one night, or maybe the item drove them to only kill on one night. Taking the souls could have something to do with it too. The souls powered the ability to kill and gather more souls. A closed circuit that didn't go anywhere. One soul was used to gain another soul.

"What the fuck am I doing?" I asked the air.

"Gazing. Perhaps pondering if you're feeling fancy," said a feminine voice behind me.

I lazily rolled my head back to see the upside down image of a ghost standing on the papers without so much as disturbing the air around the pages. "Uh, hi. You know, it's customary to introduce yourself," I mentioned to the misty little girl in a Victorian dress.

"I'm Silence. Yes, that is a given name. Not all womanly virtues were flattering back in the day," she said. She was quite eloquent for someone that seemed to have died at maybe nine years old.

"I'm Conrad. I've got to say, you hold your composure quite well. Most people get weird for the first little while after they find out I can see them," I mentioned before rolling my head forward and taking a sip of my drink.

The little girl strode back into my view, taking a delicate seat on the couch next to me. "I was looking for you. I heard you were asking questions about a song that everyone seemed to know without knowing it. Well, I do know it. I thought it had been lost to time, but clearly someone has heard of Marques De Devli'er Branchouste. He was known for playing the zither, something most ghosts have never even heard of. You see, I think we can help each other," she said in a faintly condescending tone, but it was clear that the condescension was pointed at someone outside this room, though I couldn't fathom who had earned that ire.

"How do you mean?" I asked, suspicion dripping from my words.

"We find Marques De Devli'er Branchouste! He was everything to me in life. I sent him love letters and he wrote me songs-" I cut her off.

"Okay, what? You were like nine when you died, was this musical genius also a kid?"

"Of course not! I was fifteen when I died, I just. . . bloomed very late. Of course, Marques De Devli'er Branchouste was into his early twenties and a musical wonder. He wrote pieces for all sorts of instruments, but his true love was the zither. That's what all the songs he sent me were played on, and that piece was a very specific one. Far from my favorite, but definitely an oddball in his gentle and warm songs," she said wistfully.

"Okay, what was the song called?" I asked.

"I don't see how that matters, but I am asking you for help. Let's see, it was. . . 'Fighting Fate That Parts' I do believe. He explained that it was about how he had to be so far away all the time and every time he would try to reunite with me he would be pulled away, no matter how hard he fought. Quite fitting, though a little spiteful for my taste," she explained with a sour expression.

"Okay, so we find this dude. . . and then what? Does he know how my friend got murdered?" This was getting ridiculous. This kid had been a lovesick teenager for centuries and I felt sorry for everyone who had to deal with her.

"Your friend. . ? Why would he know how your friend got murdered?" she asked as if I was the dullest spoon in the shed.

"That's why I wanted to know about that song! Everyone was whistling that the day that a ghost tore her soul out and took it, or destroyed it or something!" I sputtered out.

"Ah. I don't think we have much to offer each other then. If you do find him tell me, I will continue my search without you. I don't know who killed your friend, but it wasn't my lover. Someone else is using his music to blame him, I'm sure." she said as she stood to go to the door.

"I don't think it's your lover. It's a woman, I'm sure based on the death cycles every twenty nine days. It's a period thing," I said getting uncomfortable. "In fact. . . It could be you. . ." I trailed off. I had never considered what I would do if I did catch the killer. Ask her to stop? Follow her around for the rest of my natural life to try and save everyone she tried to kill?

"I have heard of ghosts that could effect the living world, although I don't know how it works. I've heard you need a specific kind of crossed item. I've heard they are pretty obvious once you see them, and I clearly don't have any. Plus, the menstrual cycle works every twenty eight days, not twenty nine. Keep trying though, I'm sure you'll get it," she said.

"Well fuck, that threw everything off. Who knew you couldn't trust the internet?" I said as she walked through the door in a puff of mist.