Casey’s gaze darted up and down the block. Tree-lined sidewalks. Low-rise brick buildings. A local deli. A few small restaurants. A produce store. A stream of people arriving home from work. Some were hurrying inside their apartment buildings, ready to call it a day. Some were walking their dogs. And some were carrying bags of groceries they’d stopped to pick up for dinner. Everything seemed so normal, just as it probably had last year, when a homicidal monster was living here without a single person’s knowing it. A bone-chilling reality. Ryan’s comprehensive background check on Fisher had given the team—and Hutch—the big picture on what the killer was about. The original stats the cops had provided last year had listed his age as approximately thirty-two or thirty-three. As it turned out, he was older—thirty-nine to be exact—with a trim physique, close-cropped hair and a smooth-shaven face that made him look a lot younger than almost forty. Professionally, he was a CPA in a medium-size accounting firm, where everyone pretty much operated autonomously, the only interaction among them being in the coffee room.
