One of The Kids

“Budd Daniels, age forty-seven. Cold-blooded killer. You kill fifteen victims within two years. Dismember their corpse, there are indications that you even chopped them while they were still alive. Then put them in a black plastic bag and throw them in the trash. You don't even feel the need to make an effort to cover your tracks, fingerprints, DNA, or even your blood left at the scene. What makes you want to be arrested so badly? Have you felt lonely?” Sam asked, looking deeply into the man's eyes.

The man flattened his lips, and the smile that had been forming for a long time was slowly gone.

“What do you mean I'm lonely? Do I look lonely? I enjoy whatever I do. You guys police have worked hard day and night looking for evidence of murder in ridiculous ways. All that little bit of evidence that means nothing. I save your time, so you don't have to do anything unimportant and just focus on me. That's my good intention."

Sam looked at the man. He closed the file in front of him, smili