“Over the past two years,” he says, “four prostitutes have had their throats slashed. The first one was in a hotel room, I believe, but the rest were all in alleys and such. The last one was about a month ago and someone apparently called 9-1-1 with the description of the vehicle. It was either a black Cadillac or a Lincoln. Minneapolis PD sent a teletype to all of the law enforcement agencies across the state, and what do you know I see this big black Lincoln ahead of me. The eyewitness also said there was a bumper sticker on it too, something about if you can read this blah-blah-blah. Well, this Lincoln also had a bumper sticker: Honk If You Love Jesus. Or something like that. He was driving north right on this road here, going exactly fifty-five.
“I radioed in to the dispatcher and gave her the twenty-eight—that’s a license plate, if you didn’t know. Know what she said? The car was from Minneapolis. Holy shit, was my heart beating. I told her what I thought I had. She didn’t believe me. Not at first, anyway. What were the chances that this guy would be all the way up north here?”