On Wednesday morning I went to the Pawtucket Police Department to look through the “suspicious female” database. It was interesting. The parameters were set so that it displayed any black female between 18 and 27, but it seemed like the majority looked to be about 18. Many of them were crying, others were trying to look anywhere but at the camera. Mixed in with the pictures of the girls were the occasional picture of a guy or items that were stolen.

“The guys are there because of the way the database filters things based on the police reports,” the detective told me.

“There’s probably even a few ‘he-shes’ in there,” said the detective at the cube next to ours. “And maybe some ’she-hes, too.” I mention that I’ve seen it all in the pharmacy and that nothing surprises me anymore and click the button that displays the next batch of pictures. Right in the middle of the next batch of girls is a photo of a dead girl laid out on the autopsy table, buck naked and pale.

“Oh man, that’s not supposed to be in there, you don’t need to look at that one,” one of the detectives says.

“Don’t worry, I’ve seen worse, I took a forensics class in highschool and got to see the results of the Brendel killings,” I reply. “Besides, at least I can guarantee that she’s not a suspect.”

Eddie found my pink teddy bear on Tuesday night, however we found one more thing missing. Whoever broke into our house took a cheap Bic lighter.