SNIPPET - MURDER MYSTERY
In this story, detectives are following a serial cannibal. A man whose desire to eat flesh clashes with his need to care for his victims. The victims are all the same, targeted for their youth by a sick individual who believes consuming their flesh will give them an extended life, curing them of their cancer.
The killer is Detective Moran, one of the men assigned to solve the case.
Sample:
The body. It replayed in her mind, torturing her out of a good night’s sleep. Every time her eyelids fluttered closed she would see that same street corner. Her feet would carry her through the dark and into the alleyway and there it would be waiting for her.
She could smell the blood like metal. The sticky feeling beneath her feet before she realized what she had stumbled on. Then the thud as her foot hit something soft and heavy. Maria would remember the racing of her heart as she looked down and familiar, lifeless eyes looked back at her.
Finally, she had found the young girl that they’d been searching for. The entire city was on high alert for the missing girl, and there she was as if delivered. Maria wished she hadn’t looked longer, but how could she have looked away?
This was abnormal, even for a murder. Pieces of flesh had been sliced away with almost surgical precision, open, gaping wounds left behind. Judging by the blood, it had happened right where she was lying, and while she was alive.
It was that thought that bothered Maria most. So many apartments around and nobody heard a thing. What had happened to her, and why?
Then there was the mark on her face, left behind by a bloody glove. Finger marks on her cheeks as if whoever had done it had given her a careful caress, turned her face to look them in the eyes.
*
“You look terrible.”
The voice of Detective Moran echoed behind her as she entered the building.
“I feel terrible,” she responded, not looking back at him.
They never really got along, but they worked well together. Two opposite ends of the spectrum when it came to their personalities. Moran cared about appearances, neatness, and health. Maria cared about getting the job done, the rest could follow if she had the time.
“Did you get any sleep last night?” he asked.
“Did you?” she retaliated.
“No,” he answered, his voice lowered. “Something about this bothers me.”
He handed her a warm cup of coffee and for the first time that week, she felt as though she was happy to see him.
“I’d like to go back to the scene,” Moran said. “I want to check again if we’ve missed something. A weapon, a scalpel, anything.”
“The forensics team picked that place apart,” Maria answered. “That’s a waste of time.”
“Then let me do it for my piece of mind,” he said. “I know they do a good job, but until I have seen with my own eyes that nothing was left behind, I cannot rest.”
Maria stopped and sighed, clutching her coffee as if it was the very thing that kept her tethered to reality.
“Fine,” she said. “But meet me back here ny lunch. We have the ever-so-exciting job of interviewing the family.”
Moran went pale. It was his least favorite part of the job, and yet she always made him do it. She was his superior, and if she was going to keep suffering through his company to get the job done, then she was going to make sure that he was able to do all aspects of his job well.
“And you’re up,” she reminded him.
“Please, I’ll do anything if you handle this one,” he begged.
“You’re a detective.” Her head was pounding. “This is part of your job. That dead girl doesn’t care if you’re up for it or not.”
“I know,” he replied quietly. “But this feels different. I’ll take notes.”
She had no energy to argue. At the end of it all, she didn’t mind him flaking out of it. Maria had questions that she wanted to be asked, and that way she could be in control. Which was precisely how she liked it.
As they walked, coffees in hand, the building around them buzzed with whispers and theories. Their case was becoming the case of the century, Maria could feel it in her bones.
“Excuse me, Detective Eaves and Moran?” a voice piped up behind them.
It was Charles, and he hardly ever carried good news. There was something different in his eyes that day, he wasn’t there to let them know of a meeting they’d missed or a call to the boss’ office. No, Maria knew that look too well and she knew what he would say before he even opened his mouth.
“There’s another body,” she said.
Charles gulped and she knew she was right.
