Bill snorted a little in laughter. A one-beat sound that corresponded to a brief rise of one side of his mouth. "I don't know. Hate to say it, but it's not exact. All I see is what the spirits show me. They don't have the same ideas about what's important as we do... I could try, though. Here's the trouble. Kinda flies in the face of normal police procedure." He stuffed his hands into his pockets. A harsh breath was let out, "I need something he interacted with. Something that won't go to an evidence locker... because I need to burn it. I talk to the spirits through a fire. It's Native American magic. Family's been studying and practicing since the first of us were turned. Even a few generations in, I still gotta fill in a lotta gaps."
He pulled a hand out, and pushed his glasses up his nose. "Now like I said... It ain't exact. I can't make you any promises. All I know is there's someone out there, and he's a killer. I'd wanna stop him even if I wasn't a cop. The spirits put me on his trail, maybe we can find him. Put 'im under observation. Watch him enough to get some real evidence." He didn't fill in the unspoken... The 'If we find and catch him, maybe we can kill him and prevent him from killing again.' Yeah, he was cop enough to prefer an arrest. But he also knew that sometimes, even the spirits admitted that someone just needed a good old fashioned Killing.