Furious, I rip months of work off my apartment wall. The yellowing paint comes off as I fling the paper across the room. I’d been on this case for so long, and yet, I was still at square one. I pace the small room trying to figure out what I was missing. There was one piece of the puzzle that just didn’t fit. I walk over to the small desk and scan through the police files. The killer used the same M. O. but nothing connected the victims. At first they were all males ranging from twenty to fifty-seven, but then his seventh, Jodie Stein, was an eighteen year old girl.
This killer had a very wide victim pool which made finding him all the more aggravating. Igrab the file about the first murder, Jared Reed. He was abducted from an airport in San Antonio and found two blocks away in a construction zone, his throat was slit from ear to ear. There were no blood splatters on the ground around the dump site which meant that he was killed in a different location. There were obvious signs of torture, and both his heart and eyes were missing. After Michael Foster, his tenth kill, he escalated. The bodies were found so mutilated that the families couldn’t even identify them.
I’ll never forget how horrified Michael’s wife was when she saw the body. The killing continued for a week after the tenth murder. Victims eleven and twelve were Jamie Kindle and Tammie Harris. They were taken together, but found at two different dump sites. Jamie was found in an alley by a McDonalds and Tammie was found in a motel room. Then the killings mysteriously stopped. Some say he was dead, others say he was jailed, but I knew he was still out there. That’s what led me here. It has been three months since The Slicer had disappeared, but just last night he made a reappearance.
Twenty-one year old Jenna Herrings was abducted from a nightclub in Houston three days ago, and was found late last night on the side of the road. Her organs were spilled out around her, and her throat was slit. Her heart was taken along with something else. Her hand was missing as well. I’m still flipping through the files when I hear my work phone ring. I read the number and answer it. “Detective Stein,” I say annoyed. “It’s Jordan, we may have found some new information about the case. ” “I’ll be there in ten. ” Tend the call, and grab my keys.
I tuck the files neatly into my bag and leave the room. I walk swiftly down the narrow hallways and to the elevator. All I can think about is the case. How can a man take so many innocent lives and not blink twice. What makes him think it’s okay to torture and kill college girls. I know it’s not good to put emotions in front of a case, but every time I try to pretend it’s a normal case a wave of guilt crashes over me. The families of the victims need, no deserve justice, and without my determination I’d give up on the case. I can’t do that to the victims or their families.
These killings are on my head and it’s my job to catch the killer. When I reach the police station Jordan welcomes me with a cup of coffee. Gratefully | take it and enter the plain brick building. The station is bustling with detectives, officers, and FBI all running around answering phones and going over the evidence on whiteboards. The noise hurts my ears and I’m grateful when I reach my office. The FBI had just arrived this morning, and their involvement in the case infuriates me. I know we need them in order to solve the case, but they love working alone.
Which means they’ll do anything to keep me out of the case. I drop the files onto my desk and throw my hair up into a messy bun. Just as I flip to the first folder I hear a knock on my door. Jordan peeks through the little window between the door and the wall and smiles. I wave my hand letting him know that he can come in, but when I see who he’s with I immediately regret my decision. Jordan walks into my office trailed by a tall FBI agent who doesn’t so much as give a smile in my direction. She’s wearing a tight gray pantsuit and a pair of dark red glasses that point upwards on the ends.
I match her cold hard stare with one of my own. Jordan shrinks at the awkwardness in the room, and the FBI lady clears her throat. “Right, so the FBI want a workspace of their own to work on the case,” Jordan says quietly. “You can use the conference room,” | say through grit teeth. “Oh one more thing, we need all the files that you have on the killer,” she says, a tone of authority coats her voice. “Yes ma’am. ” I sav mockingly. She turns on her heel and exits the room. “Do you have to be so rude to the FBI,” Jordan asks disappointed.
“This is my case Jordan, not her’s. “Yeah, but they might find something that we could’ve missed, this is their job! We’re just trained to give DUIs and speeding tickets. ” Ilean back in my chair keeping my mouth shut. Jordan sigh says he says, ‘We found a partial footprint at the crimescene. That’s what I called you in for. ” With that he leaves the office and closes the door behind him. I know that I should just leave this case to the FBI and help when they need it, but I just can’t, and because of that I’m letting everyone down. Topen the door and walk to the railing.
When I spot Benny I ask him to bring the files on The Slicer to the conference room. I drag my feet to the conference room, and when I finally gather the courage I enter the room. I’m greeted by four cold stares. I immediately realized this was a mistake. Evidence and crime scene photos decorate a large whiteboard, and box after box of case files are scattered around the room. Even more files are scattered around the table. Each agent has their iPad out scrolling through the news, and digital photos of the dumpsites. “Um, well I just came in to see if I could help you in any way.
You know where my office is so, if there’s anything I can do, just ask,” I say embarrassed. I’m about to leave the room when the agent in the black suit says, “Actually, you can. Can we borrow some police vans to check out the crime scene, and we think it would be helpful if you came with us to show us the exact spots. ” “Oh, um sure,” I say flustered. “Great, let us just finish up here, and we’ll meet you outside in ten,” he says with a smile. With that he turns back to his team and starts talking about possible connections between victims. I hurry out of the room, and run to find Jordan.
I finally find him by the coffee machine talking to Benny about the craziness in the station. “Jordan, we’re going to the crime scenes grab the van. I’ll be right behind you,” I say. Without a word he walks away toward the parking lot. It’s obvious that he’s still mad about our earlier conversation. I look back at Benny who shrugs his shoulders and takes a sip of his coffee. “He’ll get over it,” Benny says. “Jordan,” I start, but before I can finish three of the five agents pile in behind me. It’s a silent drive on the way to the first crime scene. The agent in the black suit talks quietly to the agent in the red pantsuit.
The third agent seems totally uninterested in the conversation, and is instead reading something on his iPad. I look at myself in the mirror. A smile grows on my face and I start humming the song that got stuck in my head. I found her at a nightclub, it was a shame she has to go, she was fun. I’m sure however she died was unworthy of her. I grab my razor from the kitchen sink and slowly caress my face with the rough edges. The color of the shaving cream reminds me of her, and for some reason my heart becomes heavy. She was as pale as they come, which is obvious for a ghost, but it almost seems like she knew others.
Ghosts don’t know they’re alive, and they don’t socialize with the others until I help pass them on. Once you can see them, they are easy to find. They hide from the crowd, standing or sitting in a corner usually. Most ghosts aren’t pale, it usually just depends on how long they have been dead. I didn’t ask how she died, I scare some away by doing that. As I set my razor down, I become confused. I look at her heart that sits in its jar. I need to remember her name. I need to go to the cemeteries, they heart has to be buried with them in order for them to pass to the correct place.