While they waited for an interview with Mark Twain, Erica decided to take a breather. Her case was turning into some sci-fi movie, making every discovery scarcely believable. There was no telling which rabbit hole they were going to be led into. She looked at her watch. It was almost dawn. She was barely getting any sleep, less than she used to when she used to stalk the bastard.
Her head was tired from trying to make sense of what was going on. Micheal joined her. He was tired too. They had had Pickford for hours but still had not gotten any important information to move the case forward or who the council was.
"I am handing in Pickford's hair for analysis," he stated.
Erica turned to face him and said, "You honestly do not believe his story?"
"The mayor died of a black hole on his abdomen. Let us keep our heads open," he said, surprising her.
"I never knew you to be superstitious," she replied.
