Billings, Montana is cold. I picked the worst possible place to stay at this time of year. The weatherman on the radio said sunny skies. But, I swear every cloud in the universe is hovering over this one town. I turn up the heat in the truck and rub my hands on the steering wheel and over the vents. The dark black leather seats are no help in this frigid weather. The necklaces clink from the mirror as I bump along the gravel road. The hotel I’m staying in is just up ahead. It's a rinky-dink place with an old hag running it from the front desk. When I asked for a key she told me that there weren't any and she didn’t know what I was talking about. A man who I’m assuming is the manager gave me a card and sent me on my way. I lock the truck and walk through the double doors into a dark lobby with red carpet and beige walls. The roof is leaking and metal pails litter the floor. The only sound in the room is the plink and drip of water hitting metal.
  The lady glares at me over her moon-shaped glasses. She has dark brown hair with streaks of white and gray throughout.

 ''Can I help you?’’ She asks. A raspy high pitched voice escapes her thin lips. She narrows her eyes at me.

 ''Just, heading to my room,'' I say. And slowly walk in the direction of the doorframe with the number 173 on it. I fish my card out of my pants and slide it into the slot on the outside. I turn the handle and step inside.
The bed is small and freshly made. The clothes I wore yesterday are folded neatly on the dresser and I slip off my boots just inside the door. I strip down and head to the warm shower. As the water heats up I turn on the television the eight o’clock news is on. The weatherman says it's going to snow overnight and the temperature is going to drop to 13 degrees. I climb into the shower and let the hot water wash away the tingles on my nose, ears, and fingertips. I put on some clothes and climb into bed. The TV is distracting me for now. But soon I have to find something to do. The snow and cold and lack of socializing are killing my nerves.
 The time ticks on. I watch the sun go down and rise again out the window. The maid comes and cleans. She brings me food. Eggs, bacon, and toast. She has dark brown eyes. The kind that changes in the light. Slightly but just enough to notice. I watch her take my dirty wet clothes and leave the room. She never pauses to say hello or good morning. A simple job for her. I eat the eggs burning my mouth in the process but am too hungry to care. Then I turn on the news again. As the light fills the room I zone out again. Reliving my last few years again.

The room is a mess.  Papers were torn and coffee spilled. My office chair is broken and my important files on the recent murder cases are missing. The window is broken and glass covers the dark carpet. There’s a note on my door pinned with a nail. The hammer used to nail it lies nearby. 

''I don’t know if you found Hannah yet but, time is running out for you officer. There are only so many girls and I believe your daughter is about the same age as little Hannah isn’t she? Nice office by the way. I like the name tag. Makes you feel special doesn’t it. Like you're important. Like you belong. But you know you don’t belong. Don’t you. No one thinks you're important do they? That’s why you are so angry with everyone. Your wife left you and little Hannah is gone now too. It’s only fair if Emmie leaves. I believe she told me she likes shiny things. Do you think she likes knives? Time is ticking, tick, tick, tick. Until next time. 

Sincerely, Burning Billy,''

I  change the channel and A man is talking about a murder just north of town. A girl with green and purple hair has been found dead in a gas station. She looks about seventeen and has big brown eyes. The security footage shows a man in a black jacket leaving and someone else entering. Someone with different colored eyes. Grey and Green. I changed it again. 

Later.

The man across from me is tall, he has blonde hair and green eyes. Or maybe they’re blue. The glass separating us has a fogged look to it. As if someone has been breathing on it for the past hour. He stares at me. His dark eyes penetrate my wall. The one that keeps me sane. Emptiness. A deep void of knowledge. What does he know? I scan his face for any signs of guilt. Does he regret it? His prison garb flashes under the luminescent lights and his shoulders sag. His chin is pointed upward supported by a strong jaw and large cheekbones. He remains motionless. Not foot tapping or glancing around. He stares at me. As if he only cares about the person in front of him. I wonder if this is how he looks at his victims. Completely innocent as if he has no care in the world. Does he want to help them? Or maybe they believe he is only conversing to be wanted. Needed. But, Billy has never been needed, I believe he said that once during an interrogation. 

'' What do you want?’’ he asks glowering at me from behind the glass. The fog hides his thoughts, his ticks, his emotions. I wait.

  '' I asked you a question. If you think you can wait me out and aggravate me. Get me to talk, your wrong.’’ Smart. He’s done this before. 

'' Why would I wait for evidence I already have?’’ I ask. This question seems to confuse him. I will write it down. Wiping my sweaty hands on my dark pants in the process.

''The only evidence you have is what I have given you. You think you know me, don’t you? Think you can read my body and tell me exactly what I’m thinking. My own mother couldn’t tell you what I’m thinking.’’ he sighs and relaxes into the chair. His arms rest against the sides like he is comfortable. Comfort. The enemy of progress. Billy smiles at me. His charm puts you at ease. And he seems to know that.

''Do you have a family?’’ he asks, his smile broadening as if he is watching a rerun of his favorite movie. I know not to reveal personal information and he knows I can’t so I wonder why he is asking. 

''Why?’’ I answer.

 ''Well,’’ he says, smirking. ''Won’t they miss you?’’  I stare at him for a moment. He likes to have fun. I play along.

 ''Does your family miss you?’’ I say nonchalantly. He laughs, An empty selfish laugh as if he doesn’t care what I or anyone else thinks.  

''Well?’’ I say. He continues chortling as if I told him a joke, I amuse him. He likes people. But, to him, they don’t matter. They are insignificant and soulless. As he said before. 

''People are nothing. They are beings of want and desire. They want, want, want. But, they never give. And when you take away what they want. They get angry. They want revenge. You take away their daughters, mothers, or fathers and you take away their sanity. People are driven by their deepest desires. And you say I’m the bad guy. The monster. The monster is in you. I just unleash it and you eventually realize what you have become. Someone just like me. Someone you claim you will never kill. Never take a life. But, when you do it, you feel like you have all the power in the world. And you realize that that version of yourself has been there all along. And it scares you. Just like I do.’’ He smiles as if he knows what I am thinking. The room has grown quiet. An eerie silence that seems to seep and engulf your senses. Billy seems to like it. He has stopped laughing and it takes me a moment to gather my thoughts. He waits. 

  ''Family, a strong word.’’ He says. ''You know I find it odd that I was my mother's favorite. I could strangle her and she was so out of her mind that she would have told you it was a hug. An embrace.’’ He pauses.

 '' Why do you want to know? You come in here every day. And for what? You ask the same questions.’’ He gives me a knowing look as if he already knows the answer. His eyes are penetrative, intimidating and they flash in the light. Almost as if he is trying to make me his pet.

 ''I can’t say I don’t enjoy our little chats. They give me something to think about.’’ He shifts in his wheelchair. His blonde hair is greasy and he has a brown stain on his left sleeve. He looks almost vulnerable. 

''How’s my boy?’’ he asks, staring at me impatiently. He wants me to leave. 

'' He’s doing just fine without you,’’ I responded.

 ''He’d be better off if he’d just listened to me. His own father.’’ The topic of his son always makes him tick. Talk. 

''Are you angry with him?’’ I say. 

‘’Why should I be, he did what I taught him to do. Kill.’’ His voice rises to an audible tone of pride. He scoots farther down in his chair. Then he leans forward again. His arms rubbing against his wheels. They seem brighter. Sharper. He notices me staring at them and he raises his eyebrows. He catches my eyes. One green and one gray. Different colors. Different emotions. 

‘’I could teach you too.’’ He smiles again and tilts his head slightly to the left. His gray eye hits the light. You don’t notice the difference at first. His eyes are blurry through the glass. The fog. Perhaps the fog represents his wall. His hidden secrets. No one gets to see his secrets. How can they? Those eyes. I’ve seen them before. But, where?