Based on the vague memory of her neighborhood he began scanning blocks along the train route he remembered using until the one from inside his head matched what was on his laptop screen.
He just wanted to talk to her, get closure. He didn’t understand what he’d done wrong to make her stop seeing him. It didn’t make sense.
This is what a serial killer might do.
The voice in his head made him push back from the desk. Why am I doing this? What am I doing?
He shook his head. No. No, I’m doing nothing wrong. I just wanna talk. I would never hurt her.
That’s what the authorities call manslaughter. It’ll start out innocent until she won’t listen to you and your anger starts bubbling without having realized it. Besides, why should she listen? Her decision was already made. Let it go, before you open a door you can’t close.
The voice was right.