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My cell phone rings on the table beside my armchair.

It's him again. Just calling to check in. He sometimes says,

I consider checking to see if the call recording application is up and running,

but decide it isn't worth the trouble. I've tried to capture his calls

dozens of times without success. When I play them back, I can hear my voice on the recording,

but any response I receive is nothing but a wall of static.

The call log on the phone never shows I received a call from him after we hang up.

My cell carrier also has no records when I call to check.

For an old man, his technology skills must be top notch.

When I retired from the force six years ago, he remained a suspect in my oldest

and most frustrating, unclosed cases. I call him the mimic.

He kills three victims once a month for three months, using the modus operandi of some of the

most infamous serial killers in history. Once his cycle is complete, he vanishes for nine months.

The cycle would start over in a new city across the state. Sometimes he vanishes for a year or two,

but he always comes back. He never stops calling either.

Tension mounts at my temples as I accept the call and put the phone to my ear.

Hello? Mary Christmas Detective Coats

says the calm voice on the other end of the line. He calls multiple times a year,

and I dread every one of them. His tone always sounds like that of an old friend.

How have you been? Is retirement treating you well?

...