200

Dear Mr. Jacob Fisher,

My name is Lance McGraff. I am 15 years old. I live in Severna Park, Maryland. I attend Severna Park High School, 9th grade. I stay at home with my father and stepmother. I have killed 180 people. Can you stop me from reaching 200?

The best of luck to you
Lance McGraff

The letter contained a certain suspense that hung in the air, thickening it. Jacob gasped for air, sliding the paper across the desk and pushed the window open. Absorbing the cool freshness of the winter's breeze, Jacob let his head rest on his shoulder.
It's bullshit.
He told himself.
Just some dumb kid's prank.
Jacob grinned and pulled his head back in to exam the paper once more.
"I can't wait to catch your punk-ass."
He said aloud. He was focusing intently on the sheet in his hand.
"Whose punk-ass?"
A stern voice asked, startling Jacob out of his thoughts. He threw his eyes up at his good friend and partner, Marcus Wailberg.
"Hey Mark. You'll never guess what I just got."
Mark read over the note, and they revealed it to their superior.
"Do you think it's a lead? It sounds as if he wants to be caught."
Senior detective Lenny Stall inserted. Jacob shook his head.
"He wants to be chased. If there were 180 deaths near Maryland, it'd be huge news. And this is just a freshman. Limited transportation and access to specifics. It's either a hoax, or a very smart killer. Either way, we need to find out."
Lenny sat back in his chair, announcing loud creaks throughout the office. He sighed with disbelief and said
"Jake, we have very important cases that you could be assigned to. One's we know have a killer. Are you sure you want to chase a letter?"
Mark was about to step in, but Jacob cut him off.
"Yes sir, I do. We cannot let this go unanswered."
Lenny and Mark nodded.
"Very well then. Good luck, Jake."
They were on their way out of Lenny's office when he stopped them.
"Be careful, you two. Always carry your gun. Murder investigations can get really sticky."
They nodded and thanked Lenny, taking their leave and traveling down the flights of stairs toward parking, where they merged into Mark's car.
"Jake, I get that this case sounds big, but if it's a game then you'll look really unprofessional."
Mark warned as they emerged from the parking garage. Jake shot a smile in response and added
"Wether it's a game or not isn't the question. In fact, I'd be disappointed if there wasn't one. This guy is smart, I can tell, and I'm going to take him down. He won't get to 200."
Jacob was already sounding obsessive, but it was not unnatural. Jacob poured his every ounce of soul into his cases. He hadn't lost one. Not yet.