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remorseful. And if it doesn’t, don't worry, I’ll think of something else.
    She glanced back to the first note, thinking immediately that Sgt. Gale must be insinuating they were written by the same person. But they didn’t look similar. In her note, the letters sloped to the right and in the first note, the letters sloped to the left. Plus the sizes were different. But there had to be a reason for all of this.
    She held them both up and looked at Sgt. Gale. “Were they written by the same person?” she ventured, hating how small her voice sounded.
    “The handwriting expert says yes.”
    Kara looked back at the two items in her hands and tried to make the comparison herself. The way the "I" looped was kind of the same. Her eyes traveled over the other letters looking for more comparisons and found none. But she wasn’t going to argue.
    Sgt. Gale took the second note out of her hands and replaced it at the end of the table, then walked slowly back to her. She jabbed her finger at the first note. “Over the past ten years four women, that we know of , have had to deal with this dirt bag.” Deftly, she gathered four pictures and placed them on the table directly in front of Kara. “Amber Lansing, Tiffany Stewart, Cassie Russo, and Margaret Timmons.”
    In her mind’s eye, Kara could see a fifth picture at the end of the line. Her own.
    Sgt. Gale stopped for a moment as if she sensed this too. Then she pushed on. “Ten years ago, Amber received twenty-two notes over the course of a year and a half. Then she moved away and we don't know what has happened to her since. Tiffany received only six notes, but the last one was this one.” Sgt. Gale plucked the first note from Kara’s hands and held it up. Your boyfriend is a piece of shit. “ Along with a note came four pictures.” Sgt. Gale placed the note back down on the table and snatched a pile of pictures off the table, thrusting them into Kara’s hands.
    Kara’s heart felt sluggish in her chest. Her whole body was heavy with apprehension, but she had no choice but to look. Her eyes crawled over the photographs as her hands shuffled them. The pictures showed a man standing next to a barstool, his entire body between the legs of the woman sitting on the stool. His arms were around her waist, and each picture showed something slightly different. In one he was whispering in her ear, and another he was kissing her neck, in the next he was raptly listening to her, and in the last their lips were locked together.
    When Kara reached the last picture, Sgt. Gale took them from her and held them up as she had the note. Her eyes flinty, she said, “This was her boyfriend, Tim Hardy, and a day later he disappeared. His missing person's case is still pending.”
    Kara grimaced like she’d been sucker punched. Sgt. Gale noted the look with her cool gaze and pressed on. “Cassie,” she said, tapping on the third picture. “She received eighteen notes over a seven month period. One night she was assaulted and raped after leaving a friend’s house and she never received another one. The rapist was never caught.”
    Kara’s eyes flicked to the picture of the last woman. She touched her own cheek lightly as she realized that each of the women looked similar. All had dark hair and cat-like eyes that stood out as their most prominent feature. Like my own , she thought.
    Sgt. Gale’s eyes also settled on the last picture. “Margaret received fourteen notes over a six-month period. Her uncle was a cop and he was the first one to make the connection between the previous three cases and hers. He got her a concealed carry permit, installed an alarm at her house, and took her to gun and self-defense classes. He also began to escort her most places she went. Still, one day after work she was assaulted by a masked man in the parking lot and she managed to get her gun out and shoot him in the left arm. He took off and she never received another note. It was raining heavily so they